As The Dust Settles

credit: Vladamir Konavalov

We want our lives to be blue-sky beautiful. We expect them to be predictable like that, at least in mundane ways. We wake up each day with the expectation that we can rely on a few certainties - the sun will rise, the dishes will need cleaning, the dog, his walk.

And yet, this is all a ruse. There are no certainties. It's just that some, through luck or good fortune, experience a life relatively free of major tempests and upheaval. Oh, they have their moments of dis-ease and disquiet, their days of loss and times, too, of cloudy grief, but it all seems to follow a gentle timetable, an understanding between them and their creator.

But some of us are dealt a very different itinerary. It feels aberrant, or at least uncomfortable. It doesn't look like everyone else's and everyone senses the deviation, but no one talks of it. Well, they talk of it only when it can be couched in humorous maxims or catch-phrases. 'Wouldn't want to have her life.' or 'What a soap opera!' I know it's human nature to cover over what's uncomfortable with humor. But can we be honest for a moment?

We do not choose our storylines, friends.

Let me repeat that:

We do not choose our storylines.

When I set out find my daughter's sister, at her request, I did not do so to invoke a hellstorm in my life. I took that step out of Love. I started than journey for no other reason but that my dear, precious hurting new little girl longed for her sister. What was a mother to do BUT say yes?

And when every door slammed shut in my attempt to adopt her sister, was I supposed to take that as a sign? Give up? Move on? That is what many people told me to do. Love told me otherwise.

And when she, my daughter's beautiful sister, was aged out of the orphanage and living on the streets and needed more financial help than I could give, was it then I was supposed to stop? Give up? move on? That is what many people told me to do. Love told me otherwise.

And after years of letter writing, campaigning and outright begging the authorities to allow Anya to finally come home to us, and we were told by the embassy at the last minute 'It will never happen.' Was it then I should have stopped? Given up? Moved on? That is what dozens told me, wrote me, urged me. Yes, dozens. Love told me otherwise.

And when the loneliness and poverty got too much for Anya and she decided it was better to take her own life, and she called me weeping and begging me 'Come help me, Mama.' Was it then I should have stopped? Given up? Moved on? That is what even some people closest to me told me to do. 'You can't go over there.' and 'you need to think of yourself.' were their excuses. Love told me otherwise. and I went.

We do not choose our storyline. We do, however, have the power to choose how to respond to it, and I'll be damned if I'll choose fear over Love.

I won't. I haven't, and I never will.

Choosing Love makes the storyline more scary, less predictable, and far more complicated than it otherwise could be. Choosing Love sometimes puts us in the direct path of emotional tornadoes and spiritual tsunamis. But it is what we are called to do. We are called to choose love, but too many miss the point. They mistakenly think their choices are to keep their storyline in place.

They don't want to rock the boat, cause themselves or others discomfort, upend the status quo. They don't want the hurricane. They want life to make sense -- money in the bank, roof over their head, ducks in a row. The problem is these seemingly innocuous choices towards ease and safety have grave repercussions for the world. Like the pebble in the pond -- there are infinite circles of effect that move out, to infinity, from every single decision we make. Every single one. And to what end do we try to stay on the safe side anyway? So we can arrive, safely and in one piece, to our own inevitable death?

I have been sad lately. Yes, very sad, and overwhelmed. But that doesn't mean I am incapable of what God set before me. That does not mean I chose wrong. There is no need to abandon Anya, forsake Daniel, or turn my back on the children of orphanage. The problem lies in my penchant for trying to weather the storm alone. I don't do it intentionally, but it does seem to be a habit throughout my life to try to carry the burden by myself. And sometimes it takes my back breaking from the weight of what I'm carrying for me to stop and see clearly what I've been doing wrong. Sometimes it takes a category 5 hurricane. This was one of those times.

My storyline is God's business. He, not I, has chosen to fill my life with a great many chances to help others and, in turn, to suffer the burden of seeing how deep and wide and oh-so-impossibly-unmeetable is the need. He doesn't force me to answer the call, I make that choice myself, and I do it out of Love.

My problem is not that God dumped too much on my plate. My problem is that I lose perspective.

I forget that not only does He love me, but He has my back. I don't have to carry the burden of these sorrows all by myself -- He is there to carry it for me. I just have to learn to let go. Let go, let go, let go. I need to stop trying so hard to do it on my own, and just allow the grace He offers in every moment. I forget that.

Over and over and over again I forget that.

I am so grateful to the dozens of you who chose to write and offer words of Love and Support yesterday. Your words, and the Love your words carried to me, were a wonderous blessing. God's hands and feet. God comforting me through you and your willingness to reach out to a soul in pain. It is great to know souls of such kindness and generosity of heart.

And to the one person (Miss anonymous commenter from Henryetta Oklahoma) who chose to incite fear instead of offering love, I say: take a step back and see what unspoken hurt in your own life caused you to respond in judgement, instead of Love, to my sharing. I didn't deserve to receive a comment that was so unhelpful. (And to be honest, it was very cowardly of you to say such things and not include your name.) I'm choosing to believe you are simply so ignorant of true grief that you were incapable of writing anything else. I hope that is the case.

So, the dust is settling after the storm. And, as with any storm of merit, the air is clearer and so much debris is washed away. To walk through a storm like that and talk about it is a very brave thing. I don't think this, I know this. But how else to help the next person who finds herself caught in an equally terrifying storm? They have a right to know how others have weathered it! They have a right to know where to seek shelter.

And so, to gently remind those who may be heading into a storm, I find my shelter here:

'But now, this is what the Lord says, He who created you, O Jacob, He who formed you, O Israel: 'Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name. You are mine. When you pass through the storm, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.' ~Isaiah 43:1-2

and

'The Lord is good, a shelter in times of trouble.' ~ Nahum 1:7

And to Anonymous from Henryetta, OK: You can stop obsessively checking my blog and my comment thread every few hours. I will not be posting your comment. I will never post anonymous comments that are not kind, supportive, or helpful...unless it can be a teachable moment. Please find another blogger to 'rescue.' I do not appreciate your judgemental attitude. And your obsessive visits, google searches on my past posts, and checking in here all day long do not speak well of your stability.