Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Fireflies


One year ago sitting in hot, Haiti traffic if I closed my eyes and imagined our one-year-from now life, let's just say that not many specks of our present reality would have made their way into my daydream.  To say we never expected to be in this location with this set of circumstances piled high and heavy on our laps would be like saying Madonna was semi-popular in the 80's.

Yet here we are in what must be the longest running limbo I have known.

Very few life stories are void of sudden shifts and shocks.  This isn't the first time the unexpected has abruptly knocked on our door.  It's simply the longest this unwelcome guest has ever had the nerve to stay.

A child whose broken soul is falling out all over our house and consuming it.  Financial stress.  Attempting and failing to balance being a "working mom" and motherhood.  Learning to let the laundry pile up and realizing cereal for supper does not kill children or make them fat.  At least not immediately.  This is my new world. It's like I moved to the moon.

There are moments.  Short ones.  When I think of my old life.  The one with enough money in the bank to never think of it.  The one with the tall, yellow house, the shiny car...when parenting was hard but easier and exactly none of my children required therapy.  Those memories flash through my mind.  Brilliant.  Bright.  Warm.  I'm tempted to reach for them.  To run barefoot through the dark in pursuit of what once was.  Catching my old life in my hands like a firefly on a perfect summer night.

But I don't.  I stand still and lovingly watch that flashing light gently fly away.  It's beautiful.  Yet strangely...unwanted.

There are only brief moments when I am tempted to feel sorry for myself.  Or angry.  Those feelings come in waves, but the waves are small, so I simply feel nudged instead of knocked over.  In this place of limbo there is peace in what is and hope for what will be.

Even though it seems I must be living someone else's life, I find that I'm happy.  Hopeful.  I feel creative and alive.  There is laughter and focus.  I have friends who remind me that we serve a God who is kind and loving.  He's at work even when we feel forgotten.  There's grace on the days when the most faith-filled action I can accomplish is to keep truckin' along with a smile on my face and a heart that trusts there is a reason for all of whatever this is.  And that reason is part of our family's ongoing rescue.  It feels kind of nice to not really care to know exactly what that reason is. I have no energy or desire to figure it out, dissect it, or label it.  For now, I rest in this: if only good can come from a good God's hand, then this strange place we reside is better than the one-year-from-now place I imagined on my own.  It's better than the three-years-ago place too.  When I actually find time to look around at this strange life, I am surprised by how overwhelmingly grateful I feel.

12 comments:

Marla Taviano said...

Oh, girl. My heart is breaking for your little guy. I can relate on a small level with Gabe struggling for the past 3 months with debilitating anxiety and panic attacks. And I can also relate to the God-is-so-good-through-it-all stuff. This is NOT how 2012 was supposed to be. Except it was. According to God. And I'm gonna trust him with the next 8 months of it too. Hugs to you tonight! Praying for you all.

salvant7 said...

Praying for you dear Hendrick family. God will provide! Hang on to His promises. xo

mbs said...

Praying for you. Wishing I could give you a big hug.

Katherine Willis Pershey said...

I'm holding you guys in prayer. I continue to be so grateful for your faith. You inspired me when you were in Haiti and you inspire me a year later.

Kris said...

"A child whose broken soul is falling out all over our house and consuming it" - what a beautiful way of expressing the ugliness of life. I enjoy reading your blog and completely sympathize with you. We are a little older and a little further along this parenting/adoptive journey, and my heart aches for your heartaches. Praying!

Debi Stoll said...

Love you Hendricks!

Amanda Jones said...

Heather, I'm so sorry for what your family is going through.

Anonymous said...

Heather,

My 14 year old son said the other day that he wishes everyone had the chance to go through something difficult in their life because it makes you stronger and teaches you empathy. I agree.

Jeanie

Alanna said...

"A child whose broken soul is falling out all over our house and consuming it. Financial stress. Attempting and failing to balance being a "working mom" and motherhood. Learning to let the laundry pile up and realizing cereal for supper does not kill children or make them fat. At least not immediately. This is my new world. It's like I moved to the moon." -- Been there, am there, feel all of this deeply.

"In this place of limbo there is peace in what is and hope for what will be. For now, I rest in this: if only good can come from a good God's hand, then this strange place we reside is better than the one-year-from-now place I imagined on my own." -- Absolutely. Praying that Grace be yours in all the moments that make up this tapestry of life.

Sarah said...

Can I copy your last paragraph and glue it into my journal...and pretend your words are my words??

Love your honesty and perspective...trusting our good God right along with you in my own 'whatever this is...' season.

God is GOOD.
He has a plan.

Kim said...

*sigh* In my first week of firs t-time parenthood to two small broken boys, and I get this. Yesterday I was lying on the hardwood floor while one slept, and I thought back to my previous life....traipsing through Paris in cute dresses with cute boys. Concerts and fun whenever I wanted. I felt nostalgic about it for a moment, but then I didn't want to return there either. Like you I am happy and hopeful. Thanks for sharing these words.

Danelle said...

I posted Fireflies on my blog Salt &Light because I loved the lesson behind your words. Good writing!
Danelle Carvell