I hope your days yesterday went as well as possible and that God's strength was celebrated and displayed in our weakness. I pray that you all had "God sightings" yesterday.
As expected, I didn't do so well in church. I didn't even make it in to the sanctuary before the tears started coming. The greeters were happily greeting everyone with "Happy Mother's Day" and then suddenly they'd get to me and say "Uh, well, hello." They weren't unfriendly and I appreciate that they didn't say "Happy Mother's Day" so I don't fault anyone...it just started the day off in exactly the mood I was expecting. It didn't help that I was alone--DH was picking my brother up at the airport.
The service began with a recitation of portions of Proverbs of 31 specifically dealing with motherhood and the tears kept coming. I sat through the worship songs because I couldn't sing through my tears.
Then they read the scripture passage--it was the passage about Moses being placed in the basket. The pastor got a few words in and I decided that I wasn't going to be able to remain quietly composed so I excused myself. I'm really disappointed I missed the message because the one piece of the story of Moses, his mother and Pharaoh's daughter is adoption. But I just didn't trust myself to not sob loudly. I'm really hoping that the mp3 goes up in the next couple of days so that I can listen to it now with full privacy to fall apart if I need to.
My mentor followed me out and we just sat and talked--time with her is always precious, however I can get it. After the service ended, our dear sweet Pastor came directly to me and hugged me and encouraged me, followed by a few other ladies who know our story. A good friend gave me a card to encourage me. So that time was really precious but I couldn't help feeling foolish at being the center of attention on a day designed for an honor I don't even qualify for. Busy-ness for C's son's wedding this week took the rest of the time and was a nice distraction.
As I was trying to explain things to the people who asked, the strongest emotion I was feeling was the emotion of missing our children. I wasn't really prepared for that. Though I've never met them, it feels unnatural to be separated from them. I did have some feelings of grief and loss over the biological loss and the concept of "never," but the fact that this was the first Mother's Day with any real kind of hope, made it almost harder. In previous Mother's Days, our children were always just a concept--something obscured, far on the horizon. So there was no urgency and Mother's Day was really no different than any other day. Now they've taken on an identity in my heart.
The Proverb says "Hope deferred makes the heart sick." That's how yesterday felt. I was truly heart-sick. Never before have our children been "so close, and yet so far" as the song says. The inability to reach out and touch them, hold them, see them, was drowning. I think I was just unprepared for that. I was unprepared for DH being upset, too.
And at the end of the day, I'm not sure I would have had things differently. Yes, I would like to have heard PJ's message and maybe not been such a blubbering mess, but my love for our children, wherever they are, grows every day so I would not have liked to not miss them, if that makes any sense.
We spent the rest of the afternoon having a nice lunch with MIL and then we were off to small group.
We gave this necklace to both of our moms, and I have one too:
It serves as our Ebenezer. I love that word. Not only does it come from one of my top 5 favorite songs (when they don't change the words), but the word is rich in theology and significance.
Samuel took a large stone and placed it between the towns of Mizpah and Jeshanah. He named it Ebenezer—"the stone of help"—for he said, "Up to this point the Lord has helped us!" —1 Samuel 7:12, NLT
Gary Parrett writes in a Christianity Today article that I frequently think about,
This single word ushers the worshiper into both the biblical episode and the greater narrative of God's redemptive dealings with his people. It points us, also, to Robinson's dramatic conversion three years before he penned the hymn, inviting us to reflect upon our own stories and to remember God's faithful dealings with us. By removing the word from the hymn, we likely remove it from believers' vocabularies and from our treasury of spiritual resources.
(Robinson is the writer of the hymn, "Come Thou Fount.")
Our Snowflake necklace reminds me of God's faithfulness and protection in giving these children genetic parents who are choosing life for them, of His faithfulness in making His will for us in this regard clearly marked and well-protected, for His generosity of provision of people and resources to support and equip us, for His restoration of our hearts that were not so distantly overwhelmingly broken and darkened with grief, and for His renewal of hope as we dream of the family He has for us!
Today is a new day and hope, though still deferred, is renewed with the dawn. I'm still weary from yesterday, but just knowing it's behind us does wonders.
Our next homestudy visit is tomorrow. As of tomorrow night, we're also half-way done with our classes. The check list is whittling down!
