On a Sunday in the spring of 2012, my hubby came home from church heavy hearted. I can recall the look on his face as if it were yesterday. He was holding onto something, and I knew it was something SERIOUS and BIG. He said that we needed to “talk.” Instantly my mind began to wander as I searched to recall what in the world had I done to hurt him so. But, little did I know, that his burden had not been caused by me.
With tears in his eyes, he shared with me how he felt that God was calling our family to adopt. He described it as if God had placed a ton of bricks on his heart. We had just come home from church, where we heard a piercing sermon on adoption. I could hear the words from James 1:27 echoing in my brain, “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress...”
But as soon as his words left his lips, all I could think of was “What about me?”
You see, I’m not the youngest chick on the block. Our youngest child was 8 at the time and I was thinking exit strategy. In just 10 years, we would become empty nesters. No more huge piles of laundry. No more taxi driving. No more responsibilities for lil’ ones. Life could finally be centered around me. Vacations to far away places, beach time, and coffee with friends. So, immediately, with no hesitation, my response back to Coby was “I’m not feeling it hon. My answer is no.”
I didn’t want to be that girl who said “NO” to God, and yet it seemed so easy to set boundaries on Him.
To seek comfort. To be selfish. To choose recreation. That’s what my flesh would choose to do.
Thankfully, that’s not where I ultimately ended up…so stay tuned for more posts to come.
