By the next, I was chomping at the bit again.
There are children who belong to my heart and until they are here, in person, a piece of me is missing.
Then the news was officially confirmed the afternoon I shared that post.
Our case worker took a new job. And there is no one to take his place. Yet.
A visit to our home, from him and his supervisor, left us with guarantees that all the piles of paperwork, already done, will not be allowed to expire. That there will be someone able to replace him by mid-to-late September. That this is not a done deal, simply a delay.
"I don't have time for a delay!" part of me shouted internally, even as externally I remained professional and accepting. "These are our children we're talking about here!"
In the moments of their departure, before the emotional meltdown took hold, the Counselor and Comforter spoke truth to my heart.
They are His children before they are ours.
And Shiloh is His heart before it was ours.
And our times are in His hands not ours.
And our life stories are all being written by Him not us.
There is peace in that.
I have my sister-friends who speak truth to my emotions when I share too, confirming His gentle counsel. Reminding me of their own stories and how each delay all made sense in looking back because it's how they got their child who hadn't even been born yet at the time of their delays that made them want to scream with impatience some days. That this is a part of the story. The time doesn't match up in my logic but oh! It sure matches up in the heavenly sense of "time".
And there's that other truth speaking to my emotional, waiting heart.
This is not all there is.Mountains are launching pads.
Problems are the perfecting.
Earthly delays are heaven's divine orchestrations.
When I live with only an earthly view everything is flat. When I remember that there is another dimension to my life -- to my family's story -- everything has so much color and meaning. Ripples here, are waves there and the impact goes further than I comprehend.
I'm seeing puzzle pieces bit by bit even as the final story is already laid out on heaven's timeline. And this delay is part of the path to get to the end. It's how it's planned. It's how it's ordained.
Shiloh is His. He's going to do Shiloh His way.
If I had my way, we'd be picking a baby up from the hospital today, and adopting for forever tomorrow. But I'm not God. So I surrender to the One who is. Because He has an infinitely wiser and better way than I do. He witholds now, to give me better tomorrow. Life has already taught me that, and I must not deny this wisdom, in my tendency to pout and tantrum because it's not moving on my time table.
There is so much more going on in the eternal Kingdom than I can wrap my mind around.
I have to trust this. I have to fall into this. And I have to offer the sacrifice of awed praise and worship that this is our truth. Shiloh's truth. The truth of all of us who will become a family together.
That the delays are the facet to the diamond of who we are all meant to be as a family. The cutting of waiting, part of the beauty of us.
The more I wait, the more my heart loves. As one friend shared, from her own lessons in delay:
They need you now to pray for them.......and as much as you are missing them, they are not prepared, and neither are you. Eventually you will be and it will be a divine appointment! Just as my child was not born yet when I was crying over him, yours might not be either......or they need some growing to do. But they will eventually be in your arms. You won't even forget this precious time of prayer for them. IT will cleave you to their hearts.....FOREVER!
The waiting cleaves our hearts together because of the agonized prayer that rises up in the meantime.
And so the love I sometimes fear I won't have enough of, grows with the anticipated longing and intercession, and when the day comes, it will be a rush of tear-filled love, as it was at the moment my Miraclegirl and Bubbles were laid on my still contracting body and looked into my eyes with knowledge that I was Mama.
And that is worth every agonized, waiting moment now.