One ordinary life...: Trauma (Psalm 61:4; Matt 18:21-22; PS139:13-16)

So, friends - you probably noticed that I stopped blogging quite a while back. I'm just not sure this medium is still relevant in the era of facebook headlines and livestreams and video. But for me, it's relevant. Writing is a process, and when I'm writing, it helps me process. So know, then, that I write for myself more than for y'all. But I still appreciate you, dear friends - for your kind words and prayers.

Today's topic is trauma. Or forgiveness. I'm not sure which - because they are so closely related

Doesn't her mouth just say it all? The worries of the world on this one.
And this was a sunny day at the park.

Matthew 18: 21-22

21 Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”

22 Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."

Much has been said and written about this verse. It's not hard to get the general idea - we have to forgive more than we ever thought possible. Forgiveness is the cornerstone of lasting relationships.

But what about when the person you have to forgive is not your brother or sister, but someone you've never met? Someone who you are unlikely to ever meet? Someone with whom you don't want a relationship? What if their sin continues to impact your life?

This is my struggle - and the struggle of so many parents who have adopted through the foster system.

No child is placed in the foster system without trauma. That's not how it works. You don't take happy, well-adjusted kids from caring, well-structured homes and put them in the system. Our children, our girls, came from a background of physical and emotional abuse. From food scarcity. From a place without consistency or care. Although I don't know for sure, it's likely the abuse started before they were born. Poor pre-natal care and/or drug & alcohol abuse while they were in the womb may have affected their neurological development. They were born with more obstacles to overcome than most of us will ever face.

And yet... the Bible tells me that God knew.

Psalm 139:13-16

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that well.15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

Curled up in our bed, hiding from a world that's too much.

So maybe it's God I need to forgive? Maybe I need to be mad at the God who saw the days of suffering ahead and allowed them to be "knit together" anyway? The simple fact is, I don't understand. I don't understand why our babies have to go through this. I don't understand what "greater purpose" could be served by the gallons of tears. But I learned a long time ago to trust Him and His plans.

And, I know we live in a fallen world. I believe, I trust, I know, that God did not intend for my babies to suffer. That is a direct result of the prince of this world (the devil) influencing the life of their birth-mother. And who knows what darkness she may have faced. The trauma probably didn't start with her. Still, I have faith that He will bring something good out of this suffering. Something amazing out of the lives of these wounded little birds.

And the ripples. Oh, the ripples.
Every bout of trauma touches so many more people. So many more who wonder why our girls have so much to endure. So many who won't ever understand the whole story.

And... it gets harder and harder to explain to the non-believers around me how I can still believe in an all-powerful God when there is much hurt and pain. I get it. I get their confusion. Right now, I can't answer those questions. I can't. I just trust. I trust and I cry and I move slowly forward through the muck and the pain and the suffering.

So, I keep slogging onward. And praying. Praying and praying and praying. For the girls (to be well, to feel God's love). For their daddy, their momma, and their step-dad (to be strong, to trust God). For their siblings - each other, and the other siblings out there. For their friends, teammates, and teachers. For our broken world and it's ignorant leaders - like the one who said just this week that people with intense medical needs must not have led good lives (my girls are 11 and 13 - what "lives" have they led?!). For other families who are suffering... because my own empathy grows stronger each day we endure.

And I look forward to the eternal rejoicing. The heaven we were promised. Where, after this earthly race is run (and we are completely exhausted with the running), we will get to sit at the feet of the Lord and be amazed at the beauty of the bigger picture. I long for that day.