wait

*This is an excerpt from Oh My Soul: Encountering God in Honest, Unconventional (and Sometimes Messy) Prayer, available for purchase at Amazon and anywhere books are sold. *

wait: a post about being [not so] patient

There’s a child in our dining room sobbing over math, over eight times four. But it’s okay, I’ve got this – step aside, folks, stand back – I’ve done this before:

“Make it smaller,” I tell him. “What is eight times two?”

“Sixteen.” Sniff.

“Great! Now, what is sixteen times two?” I check to make sure my super hero cape is ruffling in the wind, like it’s supposed to in the movies.

“Thirty-two…oh!” He writes down the answer, and I think he’s got it figured out…

…until ten seconds later, and he’s sobbing again…about nine times four. Good grief.

We try it again. “What is nine times two?” And then, thinking of a new strategy, I ask him, “If eight times four is thirty-two, what is nine times four? What is four more added to— ”

WAIT!” he interrupts, trying to think. He’s already on the trail, but my chatter was in the way. “Thirty-six!” he yells, victorious.

It reminds me of that scene in Finding Nemo. Let us see what Squirt does, flying solo

There is no work in life so hard as waiting, and yet I say wait…All motion is more easy than calm waiting. So many of My followers have marred their work and hindered the progress of My Kingdom by activity.

– God Calling, edited by A.J. Russell

When we get to the point of truly waiting – we’ve listened, we’ve obeyed, we’ve taken the leap – it is hard to not interfere. I want to hurry things along; I want to read too much into the situation. I want to yell at God for being a Big Meanie. It’s like peeking at the popcorn while it is popping, though – at best, we delay what we’re already waiting for, but at worst, it blows up in our face.

For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

– Romans 8:24-25, ESV

And so I’m learning to wait. Apparently He thinks I need lots of practice at this.

The next time there was sobbing over multiplication, I was prepping dinner. We really need to enforce the “math before mental shutdown” rule.

“Mom, can I get the abacus?”

“Nope, you can do this.” Let us see what Squirt does, flying solo…A few minutes passed, sprinkled with wailing and moaning while I sautéd onions.

“Mo-oooo-om, can I get the abacus?” I hope you’re reading this in the whiniest font imaginable.

Wait. I will not overtry your spiritual strength…All your toil in rowing and all your activity could not have accomplished the journey so soon. Oh, wait and trust. Wait, and be not afraid.

– God Calling, edited by A.J. Russell

“I already said no.” Wait, and be not afraid…and I’m praying in the moment, but these poor onions. They don’t deserve what I’m doing to them at this point.

“Mom, can I get the abacus?” And, hey! I didn’t answer him again. See? This is me, waiting. This is me, not interfering. This is me, not letting my chatter get in the way. Patient Mommy…gooood Mommy…

“Why can’t I use the abacus?”

And then, it must be confessed, I flung the hero cape to the ground. Patient Mommy was done.

“Because I am a BIG MEANIE.”

See? I told you I need lots of practice.

without ceasing button

This is day 12 of Without Ceasing: 31 Days of Relentless Prayer. Find the other posts here. To get new posts right in your inbox, subscribe here.

without ceasing: 31 days of relentless prayer

without ceasing: relentless prayer (31 days series from Copperlight Wood)

*Most of this series is now found in Oh My Soul: Encountering God in Honest, Unconventional (and Sometimes Messy) Prayer and is available for purchase at Amazon and anywhere books are sold.

day 2: every second

day 3: gentle dynamite

day 4: lighting a fire

day 5: prepared for us

day 6: stirred, not shaken

day 7: this peace is for you

day 8: storming the castle

day 9: battleground

day 10: leap, and trust

day 11: give me a sign

day 12: wait

day 13: aloud

day 14: a union full of grace

day 15: before Jericho

day 16: turn it over

day 17: tell me where to go

day 18: a path which few can tell

day 19: steadfast

day 20: all things for good

day 21: on our watch

day 22: for a generation to come

day 23: about time

day 24: behold, we live

day 25: patience with joy

day 26: finishing well

day 27: filling the house

day 28: grace note

day 29: epic: when God redeems your story

day 30: called: who we are at the end of our story

day 31: redirect: He speaks in the surrender

not alone

It’s all the same. Whether your assignment is to give a kitten a bath, dose them with de-wormer, or remove their head from a tight spot they’ve gotten it stuck in, you follow these directions (or a close variation) every single time:

Collect a few towels.

Put a fresh box of bandages nearby.

Arm yourself with your widest range of Christian-approved profanity.

And get ready to rumble.

Or, take the alternative to all that: Wait until your husband is home, and make him do it.

But I went with the first option, and learned that God made kittens adorable so you could forgive them when they draw blood with their little-bitty meathooks. All over my right hand, between fingers, around the side of my palm…only two of the gashes were in a spot that could actually be covered. An awkwardly-placed band-aid protected the awkwardly-placed wounds, but a good part of the damage had to be exposed because to cover it would cause more pain than it was worth.

not alone: first aid for adoptive families (Copperlight Wood)

There’s no one-size-fits-all process with kids, with adoption, or with special needs, though. No quick-fix band-aid covers the bleeding, and when we hide all the wounds people assume there is no problem in the first place. We walk a fine line between transparency and privacy, praying that people remember that they can’t see it all, even when so much seems to be public and on display.

Many adoptive and special needs families feel alone. They are misunderstood. Frequently under attack and struggling with depression. Often churches, family members, organizations and professionals make well-meaning attempts without really knowing how to help. It feels incredibly helpless and frustrating when the resources that are in place to help families actually end up causing more pain out of ignorance or pride. Or both.

A lot of these families – more than you might think – eventually quit going to church. It ought not to be this way.

Some of the damage has to be exposed because covering it causes more harm than healing.

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Last spring I wrote a series about this, and every day during the weeks it went live I received emails from adoptive parents, family members, and organizations about how it was impacting families working through attachment.

They realized they weren’t alone.

They realized their situation was common, but rarely talked about.

And they realized there were different ways to communicate their family’s very special needs to the communities around them that they desperately needed support from. In turn, some of these communities started to understand adoptive families a little better, and they began rallying around them with advocacy – while respecting those oh-so-important boundaries that were in place for their child’s healing, of course.

The blog series turned into an eBook, revised and expanded with resources and links throughout. Not too expanded, though – it still sits as an easy read at 49 pages total, all in one place.

It’s called Upside Down and it offers hope for adoptive and foster families (and the lowdown for those who love them) in roughly 100 pages.

Because you are not alone. We are covered, but we don’t have to be in hiding.