PART 7 - MONSTERS IN THE CLOSET

  It was about ten o’clock when I settled in for the night. After a long day, I was relieved that my husband and my mom were doing well and hopeful that this journey would soon be over.  I had not seen my girls all day. My sister-in-law had taken them to the “jumpy place” for the day (Thanks Aunt Da!!).  I was just getting ready to tuck them in and get some sweet little hugs and kisses when the hospital called.  

  It was a nurse from the ICU letting me know that there were some concerns with Ed. Although he was doing well, the kidney was not “producing” anything.  This couldn’t go on very long before they would need to take some action. 

  It was a kick in the gut when I least expected it.

Just when I finally felt like I could breathe again. 

I struggled to hold onto my peace. Father please help us…

  

  I hung up the phone, pushed down the concerns and went in to kiss my girls good night.  The room was dark, but I could see that Claire was already asleep. Ella was not.  I leaned in and noticed a worried look on her face.

  

 Sometimes a struggle with faith has less to do with feeling fears and more to do with the fears you are afraid to feel and deal with.  The ones you can’t even speak out loud.  The ones you keep locked up way down deep only to have them creep up in weak moments.

I had been keeping three locked way down deep. 

     I was afraid of losing my best friend. 

         I was afraid of not being able to support our girls alone.  

                But my biggest one was that our girls would lose their Daddy.

 It is not the first time they have lost a father. 

  Being adopted, they have already experienced this loss once in their young little lives. It is a thought that most people don’t usually consider when they think about adoption, but as an adoptive parent it is never far from my mind.    

  The first time I held Claire was one of the happiest moments of my life, but it was also mixed with the sense of overwhelming loss that she had already been through that had led to her being held in my arms. I remember the day we sat on the plane ready to leave her hometown. She was in a cute little red checked dress that I had bought for her and new red shoes that the orphanage had given her. I looked out the window and tried to blink back the tears realizing that as the plane took off, every tie she had with her birth family, her town, and her country would be gone.  

It is a loss every adoptee faces. 

I couldn’t bear the thought that being adopted into our family might lead them to another loss like that.  And so, I kept this fear pushed way down like a monster locked in a closet.

And that night, as I looked at Ella’s face, somehow I knew she had a monster too. 

“Ella, are you okay?”

“No Mommy, I’m not”  

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“My Daddy is sick. I’m afraid he’s gonna die and I won’t have a daddy anymore.”

She had said it.  

What I couldn’t even acknowledge.

That big, scary monster had just jumped out of the closet.

I couldn’t breathe.  Jesus help me…

And then out of the corner of my eye, I saw it.  I had packed it in the suitcase at the last minute. It was a new Bible we had been using with the girls. It had scriptures concerning different issues they might face marked.

Desperately, I grabbed it like it was my only hope at defeating this “monster”…

                 like it was my…

                                       sword.

  Together we read every scripture marked on fear and healing and trusting God. At the end of each verse, her face would light up with remarks like “I’m feeling better already” and “ I believe that’s true!” and “I know God will do that for my Daddy!” getting more and more excited with each verse until by the end she was jumping up and down on the bed.

I sat there in awe of what I was seeing-
                                       this amazing transformation from sadness to joy.

It was a monster-busting joy.

It was childlike faith.

I wanted it. I determined to walk in it.  Forgive me Lord…help my unbelief…

She took my hand to pray as we usually did when we finished reading, but this time she wanted to do it by herself. 

And then I sat and listened to my 6 year-old touch heaven. 
Yielding her sword, she spoke the Word that she had just read over her Daddy, with faith believing, that it was done.   
Then, she kissed me goodnight and went to sleep. 

No more monster.

^"Out of the mouth of babes and infants, you have established strength because of your foes, to still the enemy and the avenger." Psalm 8:2 (ESV)

  I was awakened the next morning by the phone. It was the nurse calling to inform me that somewhere in the night, an adjustment was made and the kidney was now “producing”.  Producing so much that Ed was well enough to move to a regular room but unable to because it required a full-time ICU nurse just to handle the “production”! 

No more monster.

Pin It

Tweet

Pin It