Grieving

I’ll be honest. I started to get my hopes up a little yesterday. I started to think really practically. We know that ICBF (the Colombian Institute for Family Welfare) has a high number of cases right now because similar to America- Covid has caused a lot of kiddos to enter the system. Therefore, to me of course, they have a problem with an identifiable solution. Get the kiddos home that have been matched via humanitarian flights so that it frees up space in the group homes and within foster families for more children.

Well, it is official. ICBF  has said there will be NO exceptions to the international flight ban. Families with matches will not be able to travel until September at the earliest.

This is not edited and you are getting me pretty raw and I apologize if I seem dramatic but I want to be real about this process. I don’t just want to look back and only remember the joy after the grief but I want to remember how God met me in the grief. When I first read the email I cried, showed Matthew, cried some more and then forced myself to suppress my feelings because I had work to do (grading). I see people, especially men, able to do this all the time. Just put their feelings into a box and save it for a later conversation so I tried. I had work to do so I did as much as I could then decided to make some homemade ice cream thinking it would relax me and be something yummy. I started throwing pots and pans around and mumbling under my breath and Matthew just helped me in the kitchen and waited patiently. I got really angry/upset and started crying and he held me. There just really wasn’t any words ya know? We are both devastated. I think I said something about not getting to see her learn to crawl or laugh. We pulled ourselves together finished the ice cream and went upstairs to bed. I tossed and turned most of the night.

In the morning, I tried praying but kinda gave up after a couple of minutes of no thoughts coming to my head and I was starting to tear up again and I didn’t have time for that. Dropped the kids off at school and got in the car just in time to ball my eyes out again before heading home. I got home and was just feeling so guilty. Guilty for not praying very much in the last 12 hours, for my anger, for my doubt, for my grief. Guilty that we have so much to be thankful for- our four healthy kiddos, jobs, a foster family that we are building a great relationship with and that is taking such good care of Millie but I am still just angry/sad. Usually naming thing I am thankful for helps me to refocus but it just didn’t.  After a little bit of stalling, I opened my Bible to where I left off the day before. Samuel meets Saul and tells him that he will be King> he also reminds the people that it was wrong for them to ask for a King. I took some notes prayed and thanked God for his sovereignty and how he cares for his people but still just felt empty, guilty, and disconnected.

I was just flipping pages in my Bible, not reading words, and I honestly don’t know how long that lasted However I was gently reminded that through the hardship of my pregnancies I had always clung to the story of Jesus and the father in Mark chapter 9. Jesus says “All things are possible for one who believes.” Immediately, the Father of the child cries out “I believe; help my unbelief.” And the boy is healed. In 2012 on the side of these verses I wrote: “Don’t be afraid or angry with doubt; God honors the fight.”

Then I saw a post someone had made of an old Village Church sermon series in Romans 8 and I decided to read through it a couple of times.  “For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear but you have received the Spirit of adoption. …The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God…fellow heirs with Christ provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.” I think I read that about three times and could not believe the comfort I received. I no longer felt ashamed to approach the throne in frustration and in doubt because the Spirit bears witness that I am a child of God. Am I still upset? Yes. Am I still grieving all the missed moments with my daughter? Yes. Her first crawl, her first babbles, her first foods. Yes, Yes, and Yes.  Am I crying while writing this? Most definitely. Yet simultaneously, I am reminded of and believe the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness. –Lamentation 3:22-24