Tuesday, January 20, 2015

For His Glory

"So that I can respond for His glory."

"My whole world is about to come crashing down."

That's what I wrote before I called our facilitator. In the course of ten minutes I'd missed two phone calls and a couple of texts. My body went numb. What could be so urgent? She'd changed her mind? She didn't want to place her child with us anymore?

Why would this happen? I asked. Why, when all the details had fallen so perfectly in to place would this happen? And all at once it came to me and I said aloud, "So that I can respond for His glory." Like a rushing wave I felt His presence. Then, just as soon as I'd known why all of this would happen, I knew that my world was about to come crashing down. So I wrote the words. And then I picked up the phone and I called.

She didn't want to tell me because Troy wasn't here. I told her she had to. I needed to know what had happened.

Oh how I wish her mother had changed her mind, had decided to parent her after all. Because then sweet Kate would still be alive.

I don't know why I feel compelled to write. Maybe because I've written the whole thing--told the whole story--and pouring my feelings out through my fingertips is the only thing that feels right.

I loved that baby. I love that baby. Her body is in a hospital in California and I am here and more than anything I want to scoop her up and hold her close and tell her that I'm sorry I wasn't there. I want to hold her mother and tell her I'm sorry I wasn't there. I want to go back in time and fix it all. I want to wake up and have it all be a lie.

That's what I wrote last night. Before I lost it completely and couldn't write another word. Before my grief grabbed me and made me hurt worse than I've ever hurt before.

I've led a charmed life. A life where the only people close to me that I've lost have been elderly. A life generally unmarked by grief. Not now. Now I hurt and I'm so sorry for what we've lost.

I'd bought these necklaces. The tiny one was for Kate. The circle was for her mother. I still plan to give the one to Kate's mom. But the tiny one--the one I bought on a short chain for a tiny neck--is around my own neck.

Because she will always, always be in my heart. I'll never see her or hold her or tell her how very much I love every inch of her. But I will never forget her. We are planning to go to California and hoping to be able to hold a small service for her. My friend sent me the most beautiful quote. 

"How very softly you tiptoed into our world, almost silently, only a moment you stayed. Oh, but what an imprint your footprints have left on our hearts."

Friends, I hurt. But I know that I know that I know that God is always good. And I know that, above all, I must respond for his glory.


  1. There are no words in any kind of order or combination that have ever or will ever be "right" in times like these, but I feel compelled to reach out. Michelle and I will grieve with you, cry along side you, and pray for you.

  2. I'm so, so sorry for your loss. You don't know me, but I've been reading here for a while - no idea how I found your blog, but I have enjoyed your writings and have followed your adoption journey with joy and anticipation. My heart is breaking for you, and for sweet Kate's birth mom. May you, your husband, and your sons find the peace and comfort you need as those who love you hold you in the light.

  3. God in His grace will give you what you need when you need it. Love you.

  4. My prayers are with all of you as you grieve. May God show His presence in a special way as you walk this road.

  5. Dear Friends, I have nothing to say to lessen the pain you feel in your hearts. But please know how very sad I was when I saw your Mom's post on FB. I'm sending prayers and hugs.

  6. My soul groans within me and my eyes respond. No mere words seem right. Heart to heart I care.