Today I take out my sign. The one that plainly states, “You break, You buy.” I dust it off and I hang it around my neck. Because today, I need to be at least one arm’s length away. At least. Today, trust is the choice I’m making. Trust… My rusty bucket slowly wobbles down. It creaks and shrieks its way deeper, in search of the cool pool beneath. It barely makes it to the fresh water dwelling in the darkness. Just barely. Because today, I hurt. So, I plunge my bucket in and I wonder if the water is deep enough to satisfy. I choose. Trust.
I got a call today. One of those calls. And the voice on the other end spoke of a brother belonging to her. A baby brother. One year’s old. Belonging to the daughter I adore… The daughter that came through another phone call on another day. The one I had been waiting for. I signed papers for. I raised my hand and swore for. The one that came home with nothing but a red bag that read, “Macy’s”. A red bag carrying nothing but a couple of diapers and a couple changes of used, mismatched clothes. And now, Flesh! Blood. Brother. Hers! But this brother, her brother, is being adopted. Another mother had waited. Desperate to sign. Desperate to swear. The voice on the other end thought we should know. One year later.
My heart screams.
“WHY AM I JUST FINDING OUT ABOUT THIS NOW?”
Why just now?… Did you not think of her? The one that someday, somewhere will long to look into eyes reflecting hers. The one that will want to touch skin that blends with hers. The one that will live in wonder. She came with nothing but a Macy’s bag… And now, a brother? Where was our call? You had our number. Why didn’t he come home? Did you not think of her? Her arms that would hold him. Her lips that would kiss him. And what about me? Did you not think of me? My arms. My lips. Because I already know those eyes and that skin. I already love those eyes and that skin. He could have come home. There is room here. I have room.
Just an oversight, I guess. The voice says. It shouldn’t have happened this way. But, the family is a good family. They love him… Just thought we should know.
Overlooked. Disregarded. Forgotten.
The dial tone strikes and the phone drops. And I sit at that table of mango wood. The one that hears everything. And I hurt. So bad. With each question, a tear falls and breaks on that wood. They come too fast. And with each tear, I lower that rickety bucket a little further. I move from daylight to darkness and I expect for his water- his sustenance- to meet me down there.
Because he’s prepared me for this moment. The moment where deep hurt and loss and confusion take a dive into his grace. A trust fall into his grace. He’s been preparing me. My God doesn’t forget me. He dials my number. He gets ahold of me. Grabs ahold of me. Tears too fast, I look over my shoulder. I look behind. And I remember… I have been the child he has carried in the desert (Deut. 1:31). Yes, he has brought me safely here. What need have I that he has not supplied (Phil. 4:19)? Yes, I have never been in want. When have I been abandoned (Heb. 13:5)? No, he has always been with me.
Protection. Provision. Presence.
Yes, I’ve been prepared for this moment. So, I plunge deeper. With hurt and questions spilling over. The journey downward is no easier this time than it was the last. But, this is where I choose to go. Trust. He is deeper.