Mile Two
Sunday, May 19. Brent's birthday. Exactly two years ago, Brent and I stood in hot little room. I don't remember my emotions that day. That day that we changed their names and signed the papers. Maybe I shoved them down to the pit of my stomach. Maybe I was too scared to feel anything. Maybe I was too scared to know I was scared!
After only spending approximately 14 together over a period of 3 days, they gave us custody of 3 little brown Mowgli children. A thought almost laughable, if it wasn't so serious. I sort of thought there would a judge sitting high above asking us to prove that we were qualified to be parents. That was the case for us. We had "people" to do that for us. But what could tell the judge anyway? I already I wasn't smarter than the 5 year old who had to walk down the street at 3 to get her food. I already knew that when the 10 year fell asleep in the car minutes after getting in that he was coping with all that was churning inside him. I knew the 2 year old was as independent as her big sister.
What I didn't know was: what happens next? What do we do with 3 kids? I'm sure I lived minute to minute in those days. There was no planning ahead. At some point after that, we must have moved to living from hour to hour, to day to day, and now I think we are week to week. Two years seems short and forever all at the same time. I was sure we would cross some sort of invisible line at the 2 year mark and that some magical moment would take place. The happily ever after music would play and we would all dance off into the sky like Prince Charming and Sleeping Beauty. Then it came. There were no flashing lights, no music, not even a cake. Instead, it passed by quietly, almost unnoticed, even by me, until the ride home from Kroger.
I almost lost it in Kroger. Pushing the cart down the aisle, my arms were leaning against the cold metal, I really just wanted to sink through the floor. I was tired of the whole scene. For the second time this month a certain brown Mowgli child was acting out in a grocery setting. Why? Why can't things just be normal? (I am sure my idea of normal is quite different than yours) I didn't know what to do or to say. I don't want to fight anymore. I just want peace. But there is much fight left inside this Mowgli child. I wonder how long or if ever the fight inside will leave.
I called Brent, shouting and little ears listening. I texted him after I called him, angry, complaining and really just needing a bear hug. Poor guy and it was his birthday. He was heading to a graduation 3 hours away.
We passed under the trees that make a canopy across the road and I remembered, it's been two years. Two years and some days I feel like we are back square one and life is upside down again. It felt like failure. Two years and not much to show. This marathon is all uphill and I'm only on mile two. Where is the happy? This manna we've received is really hard to chew and sometimes impossible to swallow.
Today I read the following from Ann Voskamp:
Matthew 6:9-15
After only spending approximately 14 together over a period of 3 days, they gave us custody of 3 little brown Mowgli children. A thought almost laughable, if it wasn't so serious. I sort of thought there would a judge sitting high above asking us to prove that we were qualified to be parents. That was the case for us. We had "people" to do that for us. But what could tell the judge anyway? I already I wasn't smarter than the 5 year old who had to walk down the street at 3 to get her food. I already knew that when the 10 year fell asleep in the car minutes after getting in that he was coping with all that was churning inside him. I knew the 2 year old was as independent as her big sister.
What I didn't know was: what happens next? What do we do with 3 kids? I'm sure I lived minute to minute in those days. There was no planning ahead. At some point after that, we must have moved to living from hour to hour, to day to day, and now I think we are week to week. Two years seems short and forever all at the same time. I was sure we would cross some sort of invisible line at the 2 year mark and that some magical moment would take place. The happily ever after music would play and we would all dance off into the sky like Prince Charming and Sleeping Beauty. Then it came. There were no flashing lights, no music, not even a cake. Instead, it passed by quietly, almost unnoticed, even by me, until the ride home from Kroger.
I almost lost it in Kroger. Pushing the cart down the aisle, my arms were leaning against the cold metal, I really just wanted to sink through the floor. I was tired of the whole scene. For the second time this month a certain brown Mowgli child was acting out in a grocery setting. Why? Why can't things just be normal? (I am sure my idea of normal is quite different than yours) I didn't know what to do or to say. I don't want to fight anymore. I just want peace. But there is much fight left inside this Mowgli child. I wonder how long or if ever the fight inside will leave.
I called Brent, shouting and little ears listening. I texted him after I called him, angry, complaining and really just needing a bear hug. Poor guy and it was his birthday. He was heading to a graduation 3 hours away.
We passed under the trees that make a canopy across the road and I remembered, it's been two years. Two years and some days I feel like we are back square one and life is upside down again. It felt like failure. Two years and not much to show. This marathon is all uphill and I'm only on mile two. Where is the happy? This manna we've received is really hard to chew and sometimes impossible to swallow.
Today I read the following from Ann Voskamp:
"Doesn’t God call His people to a non-discriminating response in all circumstances? “[G]iv[e] thanks always and for everything” (Ephesians 5:20 ESV).
This is the hardest of all.
If I only thank Him when the fig tree buds — is this “selective faith”? Practical atheism? What of faith in a God who wastes nothing? Who makes all into grace?"
(You can read the rest of her blog containing this excerpt by clicking on her name above)
So now what am I to do? Grumble and complain like the Israelites or make like Moses and head for the Tent of Meeting?
Mostly, I grumble and shout complaints. I spit manna on the ground.
When I will I consistently head for the Tent? When will I force a swallow of manna and pray for the strength to keep it down.
Jesus said:
"Pray then like this:
“Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our debts,...."
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our debts,...."
Matthew 6:9-15
Give us our daily bread, our daily manna.
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