Call it the dark side.
Call it whatever you want...
But I'll call it being real, being honest, being naked.
Maybe that makes you uncomfortable....
It's where I am.
It's this space, and I'm wrestling, quietly battling the lies of Evil One.
I've been standing when it seems there is nothing else to do, hearing the continual whisper of the One who tells me that...
To live is to die...
To lose is to gain...
To be forsaken is to be known...
But here, right now, it seems there are no guarantees.
I don't feel the promises when she cries from the other end of the phone, Mommy, please let me come home.
Knowing I cannot whisper hope into her ear.
I don't see the satisfaction when the families for whom we fought seem back in the space where they began, void of beauty, empty of faith.
Unable to do a thing.
I can't remember His truths when one child sets her teacher's floor on fire, another punches a kid in the face over and over, and another spits in an adult's face and says, You don't deserve forgiveness.
It feels like a heavy fog.
Yet I rose today and faced the broken symphony once again.
|Photo Credit: gpd.org|
Because He touches through me, using my nasty, gnarled hands.
|Photo Credit: Depositlyrics.org|
He whispers, I am so grateful because now my Son can begin.
And when there seems to be no seam, no tidy bow...
Only edges unraveled and frayed...
He reminds me, Don't look through your eyes. Look through mine. For your hands do not labor for this world, but for a kingdom being brought to earth with every tear you wipe, with every nightmare through which you rock, with the endless meetings and appointments, and plans that never seem to come to fruition.
You are mine.
You see, if I did this foster care thing for me...if the purpose was for my self-promotion, or gain, or competence ~ the end of myself would be the death of myself.
But this tapestry I am a part of is so much grander than me, than us...
It's a fabric of redemption being woven through time.
So each moment I reach the end of myself, the true beauty is only beginning to unfold.
And our abandonment to that space...
Is utter worship to the only One who is worthy of our broken symphony.
Because of Jesus ~