My heart breaks a little. She asks another question and I try to hold back raw emotion. No child should ever wonder who they are or where they came from.
But, she does.
This is a hurt that I cannot take away, no matter how much I want too. I feel incredibly inadequate. Overwhelmingly unable.
We speak of God’s goodness and our broken world. We discuss God’s sovereignty, and how He takes what man planned for evil and uses it for good. We discuss a heart torn in two, between what is, and what might have been, and how our God is bigger than both. We affirm His love, His plan and how He never defaults to plan “B” because plan “A” ALWAYS works.
She smiles, satisfied, and I tuck her in.
Then I cry.
God, you are my God, and You are her God. You created her in her mother’s womb. You knit her together and planned all her days before one of them was lived. I believe You have a plan for her life that is good. I believe that she can wrestle these questions down, and that you will not leave her floundering. I believe that the answer to every question is You. May she turn to You. Make she seek You. May she find satisfaction in You.
Draw her near. Make her childlike faith come alive like never before. Reveal Yourself to her. You are enough.
Remove all fear and fill her with Your peace that passes understanding. Remove all doubt and fill her with certainty. May her adoption story be bigger than her adoption into our family, but include her adoption into Your family. May she see this as beautiful and precious. May Your truth penetrate her heart as Your glory meets her suffering.
And then I cry some more.
I am inadequate. Blessedly inadequate. But my God is more than enough. He is more than enough for me, and more than enough for her. And despite wishing it could be easier, despite wishing I could carry this burden for her, I submit to the will of One greater than me.
And it is well with my soul.