There are dark times. This is one of them.
This year I have lost both my daughter and my mother, four months apart to the day. The woman I came from and the someday-woman I bore are both gone from me, and that makes me wonder . . . where do I go now? What do I do with my life? How can I now make them proud? What would they expect from me? What do I expect from myself? And most importantly, what does God expect?
I could say this was the most devastating time of my life. But it isn’t. Of course, it’s painful. It . . . twists in me. But it has also been a time that I have seen most clearly the faithfulness and providence of God. As I was going through my mother’s papers, I found a letter I sent a few years ago to encourage her and in it I wrote how God knew what was happening and He had control of it. Reading it over now, I thought to myself, How could I have possibly known that then?
The truth is that, although I had been through some difficulties, they were nothing like what was to come. Nothing like this. At the time, I was telling my mother to wait upon the Lord because He had said to do so in His Word. Now I have seen Him prove that He will sustain. That mourning lasts for a night but joy comes in the morning.
So I can’t count this as the worst year of my life, even though the humanity in me wants to. Because I recognize that if it weren’t for what has happened, I would not have known God as I am learning to know Him. I wouldn’t have seen firsthand the beauty and sweetness and goodness that He gives. I wouldn’t have known the deep wonder of sufficient grace. In this time of brokenness, I am reminded that He makes me whole, and I am enraptured, enamored, and unfathomably indebted.
Tags: Barbara Sue, hope, loss, Natalie Grace, providence, trust in God
2 Corinthians 7:9-11
This post means a great deal to me… I was adopted at a young age, and I used to wonder as a child, what my mother was feeling during that time. How it must have felt, and what the reasons were. If she was concerned or indifferent. I still wonder these things, but there’s no way to really know. Thank you for your insight.
Thanks for your comment. I guess I can speak to the feelings that a birth mother may have, but I myself wonder sometimes about the feelings my daughter might have eventually. Would you feel comfortable sharing with me what your own feelings were about your adoption?
My adoptive parents were always up-front and transparent about the fact that I’m adopted, mostly. But my birth mother asked not to be kept in contact – No cards, letters or calls… And now it’s anyone’s guess as to where she even lives.
I was born out of an adulterous one-nighter, my mother being separated from her husband at the time of the mishap. Which, I sometimes I can’t decide whether I should feel resentful or sympathetic about. It certainly should not make me less of a person, but at the same time, I feel a deep loss of heritage. Like an orphaned child born as a “Mistake”, and simply given away. No family to welcome you as long and lost.
I envy my adoptive brother for being able to have a free and open relationship with his biological relatives… He often calls his grandmother, and it’s known that his mother gave him out of selflessness and sacrifice, knowing that he would have a better life in the hands of a true family.
But I can’t conclude that this is my case. So, as for this point in time, there’s nothing to do but to wonder the circumstances… You can know the facts, but until you know the truth, it’s wrong to judge.
All-in-all, it’s just one of those things I’ll have to cope with and come to terms to, one way or another. And in the end, is knowing even important? Should I focus on my future and ignore what happened in the past?
They say it’s not where you come from, but where you’re going that matters.