This morning I had a mini breakdown over an email that was returned as undeliverable. Through welled-up eyes, I struggled to make out the letters to double check that I had typed the address correctly. I just kept going over it, one letter at a time, again and again. As though somehow staring long enough would create an error where there hadn’t been one before. Normally, I’m not one to will into existence an error on my behalf. But in this case, at least if I had made a mistake, I could have corrected it.
There was no mistake. I had already tried calling, but just reached a recording instructing me to send an email. I had called two more times – yes, during business hours – just in case somehow I had missed the prompt to leave a voicemail. Nope. Sending an email was the only option. So I just sat there. Completely helpless. Crying like a child ill-equipped to cope with being told they can’t have their way.
Two weeks ago, we shipped off a sizeable packet of paperwork and have been anxiously waiting to hear back. It’s just another step in the process that will lead to more paperwork and an appointment or two, but the current status of standby is really starting to wear on me. Curse you, Google, for making immediate gratification a part of my daily life! Curse you, Amazon, for making me believe I can get anything I want in two days. Moments before attempting to send a follow-up email, I had shared with Kel that I was starting to get a little frustrated about the silence on the other end. I didn’t even get through that entire sentence before shrugging it off, saying that I knew better than to blame mankind when I should be trusting God.
Not an hour after that truth came out of my mouth, and there I sat, sobbing on the floor. Already I was reverting back to frustration and blame. It’s what happens when we feel our grip on control slip away.
Trusting God is always a little easier when I am in the field working next to him. Keeping my hands busy at least offers a feeling of control and satisfaction. But being still? That is not something I’m good at. Trusting that He has it under control behind the scenes where I can’t participate or even see what He’s up to? No thank you. Not my cup of tea.
From birth, we are wired to chase after what we want. We are taught that if we want something bad enough, we just have to work hard for it.
We plan.
We chase.
We make it happen.
When obstacles prevent us from arriving at the desired destination, we calculate an alternate route with the intention of reaching the same destination we were aiming for from the onset. We may settle on the long way to get there, but we’re still determined to get where we want to be.
But God gives us a different message. He gives us the Gospel. A true north that points us in the right direction when our temperamental map is rendered useless. The catch? I don’t have to do anything. All I bring to the table is obedience and trust.
“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” Eph 2:8-10
It isn’t about going where I want. And it’s not up to me to get us there.
I think about parenting a lot. Kel and I talk about it often. Perhaps our biggest prayer is that we will continue to be intentional as we discipline and shape our children into the adults they will become. The Lord has been good to reveal all of these beautiful parallels between our Heavenly Father and our anticipated role as parents. I suppose I make it easy for Him to make those correlations by behaving like a child so often.
I know what is expected of me. I have disregarded boundaries and painfully learned they were for my own good. And yet, disobedience is my default. I still get lost in adamant attempts to do it for myself. I find it difficult to trust.
But God. He refuses to give up on me. He is faithful and true – undeterred by my stubbornness. So often when I’m done screaming and fighting, I surrender my ways and listen. And in those moments, He quietly whispers, This is My Plan A.
About two and a half years ago, we picked up our lives and relocated from the land of our deeply rooted heritage in Nebraska, to our current home in Middle Tennessee. You may recall that when we moved here, we didn’t know a soul. Although Kel had done enough research to know the demographic aligned with our future plans for our business focused on existing marriages, we were laughably unfamiliar with what we were getting into.
It was nothing more than an act of obedience. A reckless abandonment of fear of the unknown, and a stake in the ground declaring complete trust in the Lord. We had given up on trying to achieve the life we wanted, and followed His whispers to get here. We hadn’t the faintest idea just how divinely planned and purposed that move would turn out to be.
A few months after moving here, we began searching for a faith community to call home. We prayed that at the very least God would replace the meaty messages of the church we’d left behind. That He would satisfy our hunger for challenging Biblical truths to be presented verse by verse. God not only provided that, He really started showing off through His intricate displays of faithfulness…
We hadn’t even thought to include it in our search criteria, yet we ended up in a place where marriage ministry is prevalent. Not only is our marriage edified and encouraged here, we were also invited to participate in a 12-month training for husbands and wives to walk alongside other couples as marriage mentors. In case you missed it, one of the primary reasons we felt called to moved here was to serve husbands and wives. We don’t have the perfect marriage. But God equips the called.
The friendships we’ve built in just a year far exceeded any expectations we could have ever had. Our calendars now overflow with fellowship, both together and individually with men and women. Each engagement is uplifting and encouraging in our walk with the Lord. We are not, nor have we ever been Mr. and Mrs. Popular. We miss our family dearly. But God’s family is bigger and even greater than our genetic one.
And He didn’t stop there.
For the first several months at our new church, week after week, one word found its way into nearly every conversation. Adoption.
We weren’t the ones bringing it up, so how did this keep happening? How did we end up in a place where we were surrounded by so many of these beautiful stories? How did we go from knowing one or two to literally dozens of families who had been brought together through adoption?
We didn’t plan.
We didn’t chase.
We didn’t make it happen.
BUT GOD.
That statement ends with a period. Because it is complete.
Our family may not look like we had thought it would. I am reminded on a regular basis that I will not be the one who controls or determines the day we are all together. BUT when I stop fighting and simply surrender my ways and listen, GOD quietly whispers, This is My Plan A. (Job 42:2)
-m
PS. The “But God.” artwork will be available soon in our Etsy shop. All proceeds will help cover our adoption expenses. To be notified when this product is available, please send us a note here.
