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In recent months I find myself vacillating between extreme thankfulness towards God and bitter pissed-off-edness at him. There are days, such as during the time when I had no income for the last few months, when we received two checks, out of the blue, for a total of $1500. Speechless. Then there are days when it feels like we will never return to a more normal life, when I have to put another bill on the credit card, when it feels like we will live in a basement forever. Speechless.

I feel like I’m constantly struggling to find that middle ground, that place where gratefulness can exist alongside my questions or doubts.

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As I mentioned earlier in the summer, one of our children has struggled mightily with anxiety since we returned from our cross-country trip. If we informed him of an upcoming event that he would need to attend alone, he would fret and worry about it for weeks. I’d find him reclined quietly on the sofa, eyes staring off into the distance, and I’d know that worry was devouring his peace.

So we stopped telling him about things coming down the road. We started communicating with him on a need-to-know basis only. A few months ago we signed him up for a science class at a local museum, but when we saw that just the thought of it was filling him with anxiety, we stopped talking about it. We stopped warning him that it was coming. We simply waited until yesterday, and fifteen minutes before we left I told him to get ready.

He still wasn’t happy about it, but it eliminated weeks of worrying. I’m sure the day will come when his anxiety lessens, but in the mean time, we’ll continue walking him through life and telling him about these things when he needs to know about them.

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Then I thought about God. I thought about how often I beg him for information on where he’s leading me. I thought about how this interminable period of waiting is driving me nuts. I thought about how I want to know the wonderful plans he has for me – I want to know them now!

But he doesn’t allow me to draw him into that kind of a dialogue, because he knows that if I knew the future I would simply stress about it. So he walks alongside me, and he nudges me here, and he whispers to me there.

And I find out about my life on a need-to-know basis.

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Similar posts include:
On Receiving Unexpected Checks in the Mail and My Lack of Trust in God
Leaving, Wondering if I’ve Been Forgotten, and Clinging to Promises

Only Flight of the Conchords would use hilarious interviews with children to write a song, the aim of which is to raise money for sick children.

“Why did you drink a container of bubble mixture?” he asks the little girl.

“Because I wanted to turn into a bubble,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone.

(Thanks to Tyler Stanton for pointing out this video in his Weekly Six.)

Today’s guest post is brought to you by Ashley Glick, one of the bravest people I know. Four years ago, after learning she was pregnant, she made the difficult decision to find adoptive parents for her child. Amber and Nate would fill this role for her, adopting her son B. Today she writes about the struggle to find a way to celebrate Mother’s Day in their open adoption.

Mother’s Day is a weird one in the adoption world. Like so many adoption topics, there is a fine line between black and white, scary and comfortable, giving and taking. It has taken Amber and I four years worth of balancing on the line for us to land in our own, unique spot. We have both reached a place in our hearts that is very matter of fact.

Amber is B’s Mom. I am B’s Birthmom. Even though each title holds a different meaning, the word “Mom” is still there. So of course, on Mother’s Day we celebrate the differences in the titles we hold in his little world. The list of similarities and differences is endless, but the most important is our unconditional love for B. He is the center.

I have come this far to understand that my own selfish desires have to take the back seat for my sanity, for Amber’s sanity, and most importantly for B’s stability. I prayed often that I would be able to fully hand over my Motherly instincts. This is so important to me, all I want is for B to grow up in a world full of love, functioning relationships, and a sturdy structure of support. I expected the hardships, anger, and frustration. But I wasn’t expecting Amber. Our talk on Mother’s Day melted my heart. For her to tell me that I am very much included in this holiday with her was beyond my wildest dreams.

I was fully prepared to watch from the sidelines and cheer her on with this special holiday. By sliding over and making room for me she gave back a small sliver of my heart that I handed over four years ago. Her greatest dreams and desires in life are to be a mother. I know how much she treasures her role. For her to honor me is redeeming, sacrificial, and shows her love for B. What else do you need in a mother?

Looking back on my fears and anxiety about Mother’s Day I have to laugh a little. It’s such a relief to not dread this holiday, but to celebrate it and be celebrated. I was determined to make Amber feel 100% B’s Mom which meant Mother’s Day would have to be all about her. Of course this left me devastated, but I wanted her to feel secure in her role. This past Mother’s Day we loved each other not only for who we are in B’s life, but for who we are in each other’s lives. God has sneaky ways of redeeming the fears and hurt that we lay at his feet.

As weird as it sounds Amber is a close friend, a mentor, and my son’s mom. When you can find a balance, establish roles, and ignore your selfish desires things start to fall in place. You can put aside the blurry line and actually get to know and love the person on the other side.

Don’t be fooled. We don’t always skip off into the sunset holding hands and gazing into each others’ eyes. But we are learning together. We always make these choices with B in the center. So it’s a breath of fresh air when something is established and we can focus on each other for once. Her Mother’s Day gift of honoring me cements the fact that she is selfless, loving, and perfect for B.

Please come back next week to hear Amber’s story. If you’d like to submit a post telling the story of a poignant moment that occurred during adoption or foster care, please email your 500-word submission to shawnsmucker@yahoo.com. Thanks!

Prior adoption and foster care posts include:

The Problem With Permanent Marker – A Foster Care Story With Jeffrey Lane
Fear and an Open Adoption – Adoption Stories With Rebecca Wenrich
I Saw Our New Son and the Voice Said, “Run Away” – Adoption Stories With Kim Van Brunt
Checking ‘Yes’ to Everything: Adoption Stories With Sonya Judkins
Because Someone Has To: Adoption Stories With Shar Halvorsen
Momma For a Moment: A Foster Care Story, With Tamara Out Loud

I like to blame the politicians because it’s supposedly their job, you know, to take care of the populace and all. I like to blame the Presidents for all the bad things that happen in our country – the unemployment, the poverty, the unrest. I like to blame the laws for allowing people to live lives I disagree with.

Change the laws! Change the leaders! Get out the vote!

But after coming back from Sri Lanka I wonder if a different majority shouldn’t be taking the blame. I wonder if there’s another group that’s held a lot of power that needs to bow it’s head in shame at the lack of progress that’s been made in this country. Not a political majority, but a cultural one. A religious one.

Namely, Christians. The Church.

In other words, Me.

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Maybe it’s time for Christians to finally take a back seat in the massive power grab going on in the United States. While we argue over policy, while we get in line for chicken sandwiches or explain the most recent natural disaster, another family spends the night hungry in Detroit or Lancaster City or Sri Lanka. While we fan a holy rage over an empty chair or “you didn’t build that,” a Sri Lankan girl quietly celebrates her birthday, limping around her back yard on a mangled leg, the result of a man who hit her with his truck and then kicked her into a ditch. Just another poor girl. Just another sad story.

The fact is, you can do a massive amount of good in this country without holding the majority in the Senate. You can do immense good in this world without having “your guy” in the Oval Office.

Why do we wait?

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I am a Christian. Part of the self-heralded “Moral Majority.” I guess.

While overseas with World Vision, I traveled around with a group of Sri Lankan Christians. They are working in a country that is 80% Buddhist, 19% Hindu and Muslim, and less than 1% Christian. These Christians have learned how to operate as a huge minority, and let me tell you, it was a beautiful thing to see. They were humble beyond measure, kind to everyone they met, and thoughtful in their interactions with the other religions.

They were not bullies – they couldn’t be. They were not boisterous or pushy – they didn’t have that kind of power. They simply dwelt quietly amongst the poorest of the poor, bringing water and food and dignity and hope to anyone whose path they crossed. Wherever they showed up, whether it be at a Hindu celebration or a Buddhist temple or a mud hut, they were greeted with smiles and bows and appreciation.

They were known, everywhere they went, by their love. People sought out their prayers. Children knelt, touching their feet, awaiting their hands of blessing.

I saw they way they worked, and I thought to myself, I want to be in the minority.

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I don’t want to be in the majority anymore. I don’t want to fight for laws that will force people to live the way I want them to live. I don’t want to manipulate with my money and my excess. I don’t want to identify myself with a donkey or an elephant. I just want to walk alongside people who are hurting and bless them.

And isn’t that what lies at the heart of this thing we call Christianity? Jesus had no concern with earthly power. Jesus was not in a law-making majority. His was no iron fist hell-bent on self-preservation.

Instead, he was in the minority. He led a group of men who offered hope to the poor and the broken through reconciliation with God.

That’s something I’d like to do. That’s something I’d like to be part of.

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This post is part of a synchroblog over at Andi Cumbo’s blog. To see all of the other blog posts on this topic, click HERE.

“This is one of the most painful reconciliations to make in the creative life…But maybe it doesn’t have to be quite so full of anguish if you never happened to believe in the first place that the most extraordinary aspects of your being came from you but maybe if you just believe they were on loan to you from an unimaginable source.”

“Don’t be afraid. Don’t be daunted. Just show up and do your job.”

– Elizabeth Gilbert

“I’m convinced that if I could somehow tie the stories of the poor people here in Sri Lanka to America’s favorite fried poultry that, perhaps more Americans might take a moment and just pay attention to what’s happening on an island in the middle of the Indian ocean. That perhaps a headline like “The Five Ways Chick-Fil-A Failed Sri Lanka” or “The Church Goes All Chick-Fil-A For Sri Lanka’s Poor People” might create enough viral noise so that people might engage a story or two about what’s happening in Sri Lanka.” (Matthew Paul Turner)

“When she was three, Afra was playing with the neighbor children in her village. A truck driver coming down the road swerved playfully at a friend he saw. But he didn’t see Afra. She was pinned up against a wall, and her leg was crushed and mutilated in the truck’s rear wheel. The trucker got out of his truck, saw the little girl and, thinking that no one was looking, kicked her into the ditch. To him, she was poor trash.” (Tony Jones)

“Then I stop. I stick my feet down into the flow of time and I will it to pause. Pause, darnit! I want to absorb the entirety of this moment and keep it for myself for later and for DanO to recount to him and for you, friends and readers (who are friends I just haven’t met yet) so that I can tell you what the face of a sponsored child – and a mother of a sponsored child – truly looks like, feels like.” (Allison Olfelt)

“Today I saw something I have never seen in the developing world before. I saw the end of poverty.” (Roxanne Wieman)

“We climbed back up the hill towards the World Vision vehicle and I looked down the road at the row of shaky, squatting huts.  Instinctively, I framed a photograph in my mind of the structures contrasted against the tall palm trees.  I raised the camera and thought, ‘this would make a beautiful picture.'”

“Shocked, I lowered my hand.”

“This is not a beautiful picture.” (Laura Tremaine)

“Denying aid to Sri Lanka because they aren’t helping us first is like telling the victims of the Joplin tornado to manicure the White House lawn before we will help them rebuild. Requiring a third world country to help a first world country is like telling a child sex slave that we won’t rescue them until they send Donald Trump $100.” (Joy Bennett)

“There is one major difference between Amila and myself. While I make about the median income for an American household, he worries about these things on an average wage of less than five dollars a day when he’s lucky enough to find work at all. To put that in some perspective, that means that it takes him almost six weeks to make as much money as I make on a normal day.” (Darrell Dow)

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World Vision is in the midst of this, forming relationships and leading communities out of poverty in sustainable ways. Please read more about what they do HERE and consider sponsoring a child.

(All photos by Matthew Paul Turner. Copyright World Vision.)