changing the chant

Lovey and Doug (who miiiiight be ticked when lovey tells him i wrote this?) are currently on their way to pick up their daughter in Uganda. Their 9-year-old who they began adopting something like 7 eons ago (fine. last summer. but we’ve been praying through their adoption process for more than two years so whatever).

the thing is, since we knew babygirl was theirs (since they got the confirmation in their hearts and the referral from the orphanage where she lived) I have had one battle cry in my prayers:

God, please, bring our girl* home.

A few months ago when she was sickasadog with who knows what, (and this will be the first time Lovey has heard this) I had nightmares that she was sick and dying, I’d wake up crying, and all I could say was,


Yes. I yell at God sometimes. I know it’s not the best thing to do but sometimes  it’s either yell at him or not talk to him at all, and I know he takes me at my worst. So if yelling is all I have, that’s what I bring.

There were times when, driving, usually (yeah, cause THAT’S safe) I would just be overwhelmed with longing and start to cry. I distinctly remember about a week before they got their court date (the date that said an end was in sight) getting just plain PISSED at God. No, it’s not okay to do. And I’m not making excuses. It would have been better to trust Him and rejoice always. But, like the yelling, pissed was all I had. I got pissed that she wasn’t home. I felt desperate. Like, why wasn’t He doing anything? Why wasn’t she here? There were no blocks, no more steps to take or paperwork to file or anything. We were just waiting. And like thousands before me, I saw no blessing in the waiting, and I was just pissed.

So yeah, then a week later we got the date. And started (metaphorically) running around like fools. We had the “babyshower” because when you bring a 9 year old home and only have a 4 and 2 year old, you need stuff! We planned and packed and plotted and prayed and now, a month later, they are on their way.

And truth be told, I still don’t see the blessing of the wait. I’ll probably get to glory and feel like a plumb fool (about everything but  I know this one) because I still feel like it was dumb we had to wait for her. But I know the truth: He is not a God who acts without purpose. And, blessedly, His purpose is ALWAYS for His Glory and our Good.

And now, as they are just hours from having her in their arms, just weeks from having her in mine, I am ashamed. Ashamed that I didn’t (and in many ways still don’t) trust him. Ashamed that though he keeps the world spinning and all things under his authority, I punk out and shake my fists. Like Job.

But he is gentle. And as I cry now, I cry another cry. A cry of thankfulness. A cry that knows I’ll never deserve his love or goodness. And I’ll never lose it. A cry that admits I don’t even know the depth of my sin, but i see the tip of the iceberg and it’s gross. And still, he cradles the muck, the distrust, the pissed, and his response is always love. Always healing. Always restoration. Always welcoming arms that never let go.

My cry is grateful.

He’s bringing our girl home.

*I know, it may seem weird that I say “our” girl but babyg,  isn’t just coming home with new parents and siblings. She is coming to a community that has been waiting for her, eagerly anticipating her coming home. I, “tia Ritz,” am part of that and seldom a day goes by that I do not pray that she is HOME soon because that’s what you do when your heart is torn apart that YOUR BEST FRIEND’S DAUGHTER IS HALF A WORLD AWAY FROM HER MOMMY AND DADDY. SO yes, she is their daughter. But she is OUR girl. I also say it as a reminder that she belongs to Lovey. She belongs to Doug. But she belongs first and most and always to God.


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