When I was in the 7th grade, I broke my arm because of a grasshopper. I hate grasshoppers. My contempt for them goes back as long as I can remember – when they would land on and cling to my pant leg as we were riding through the soy bean field searching for weeds to eliminate. Their sticky feet have a very distinct feel and you knew it the moment they landed. To this day those beady eyes and clingy legs send a shiver down my spine just looking at them. So in junior high, when one of the boys shoved a grasshopper in my face, I leapt back, tripped over a classmate, and ultimately slammed my arm against the corner of a concrete slab.
That incident lead to me wearing a hot pink cast for six long weeks. I even received the pleasure of sporting a make-shift sling that Mom crafted out of a kitchen towel. Yeah, I felt about as cool as you are imagining.
One of the things that I remember most about the experience of having a broken arm is how it felt to finally have that cast removed. For six weeks, my arm had been protected. I had been unable to move the way that I wanted. I couldn’t sleep the way I wanted. For crying out loud, I couldn’t even shower like a normal person. So yeah. When at last the day arrived for that cast to be removed, and I could finally go back to doing the things I wanted, you could say that I was excited.
Back in school the next day, though, I didn’t run and play the same as I had pre-cast. I continued protecting my arm. Its vulnerability had been exposed. The extra sensitivity to air moving across my skin provided an acute reminder of the agony that could be caused by something as silly as a grasshopper. And I would have done anything to prevent myself from having to endure that kind of pain again.
As we stepped into the adoption process, there wasn’t a single person who expressed anything but joy and excitement. Lots of questions, sure. Some rude and inappropriate comments, of course. But no one – not even once – advised us against this pursuit or suggested we should be afraid.
And yet even in the midst of our own excitement, it took a conscious effort to participate in the happy dance that broke out around us. While everyone we knew and then some gleefully moved to the tune of anticipation, the two of us began swaying – optimistically, yet ever so cautiously. Aware of our own vulnerability, and with extra sensitivity to the possible agony that comes with wanting, we gripped our dreams loosely with arms held in closely maintaining a posture of protection.
Facing the initial home study visit, we longed for the fortified barrier of indifference. BUT GOD provided loved ones who confidently pointed out how uniquely fit we are to love and nurture the kiddos He already knows by name. By the second visit, we were certain that disappointment was imminent, and feared the damage that could cause to the marriage we had diligently worked at making strong. BUT GOD revealed the ways that He had lead us to this precise endeavor, and has equipped us to handle adversity as a cord of three strands – one not easily broken. Each step of the way, we’ve cautiously stepped forward with uncertainty and worry. BUT GOD has affirmed the decisions we’ve made, and has provided a peace that passes all understanding.
Somewhere along this journey, we found ourselves dressed in hope. Not the cross-your-fingers kind of hope. Real, confident that this-could-actually-happen hope.
It is something we haven’t slipped into for a very long time. And it is painful. Like skin freshly released from the shelter of a cast suddenly aware of the subtle movements of air, it physically aches to be wrapped in the susceptible fabric of desire. The cloak of resistance beckons…
BUT GOD meets us in our apprehension and reminds us that when hope hurts, we aren’t called to despair. We are called to dependence. To walk by faith, not fear. To surrender our desire for control and comfort, and to willingly stretch out our arms in a joyful dance declaring our confidence in Him.
The questions and what ifs remain. BUT GOD, in His providence, supplies so much more than answers. He provides blessed assurance. And when we look back at the story He’s has written for us, we clearly see those echoes of mercy, those sweet whispers of love woven through every detail.
-m
