The other night, my husband and I finally had the opportunity
to watch Philomena. The film was deeply moving, but one scene in
particular stood out to me above all the others: when Philomena has the opportunity
to confront the nun who hid the truth about Philomena’s son.
Philomena’s response to the elderly nun: forgiveness.
And Philomena’s reporter-turned-friend is angry at
her response. How can she forgive the woman who kept Philomena from her son for
so many years?
Because, Philomena replies, not forgiving, living life full
of hurt and anger, is exhausting.
Exhaustion. Isn’t that something so many women can relate
to? Exhausted due to work, parenting, relationship struggles, a sick relative,
personal illness or addiction, financial issues…the list of possible depletions
is incredibly long.
And we all have our thing or two that we carry with us,
always, that works diligently to take from us.
For me, it’s my full-time, forever and ever disease. It is
by far the greatest stressor in my life. It is emotionally, physically,
spiritually, mentally, and financially difficult. Even with good insurance and
a five-star specialist, even with all my knowledge of medical terminology and
nutrition, even with a tremendous support team (my family)---this disease is
really, really, really hard.
I wear it well. I don’t look like a stereotypical diabetic.
My doctor praises my efforts. I don’t often complain about my blood sugars. I’m a warrior. Survivor. Fighter. Every
single day. And even on my dark, hard days, I’m still going, because I refuse
to give in or give up.
But fighting every day is exhausting. It takes so much
energy not only stay alive, but to have a good quality of life.
I didn’t choose this disease.
But in other things, I do have a choice.
My second greatest battle, one common to many women, is a
spiritual one.
You see, I love information and hearing the experiences of
others. I love seeing an ever-changing FB and Twitter feed. There’s always a
great blog post to read, a video clip to watch, or a headline to mull
over. So many ideas, so many
experiences, so many thoughts and questions and possibilities.
And overwhelmingly, so much negativity that takes up too
much space in my mind and heart.
We each only have so much inside of us each day. We choose
what we give that to. And unfortunately, we can give it away to things and
people who don’t appreciate it, or even to strangers who don’t even know you or
your family or your fears or your triumphs. We can also turn on ourselves,
which can be debilitating.
Take parenting for example. There are so many how-to and
how-not-to blogs and forums and articles. A person who reads enough can’t
figure out which way is up. Worry steps in. Uncertainty. Fear. Discouragement.
The world tells us, we are never, ever good enough, therefore, we are
failures. It’s not only overwhelming, it
can be all-consuming.
Adoptive parenting, in particular, can be a challenge. There’s
not only the parent and child, but biological family members, social workers,
lawyers. There are questions from adopted children that will bring you to your
knees. There are feelings of elation followed with guilt stemming from personal
joy. There’s heartache, a lot of heartache, when an adoptive parent comes to
the realization that adoption is so messy, so bittersweet, and so inherently
and deeply flawed. There are seasons
where we feel completely unequipped and unworthy of the children we adopt. There are times of mourning followed by
moments of triumph.
As a Christian, I have often taken my concerns and personal
conflicts to God, having conversations with Him as I sort and battle. And every
time, He speaks peace and understanding into my heart. These things evolve into
wisdom and discernment. He puts people in my path to guide me. He has blessed
me with a family who is incredibly supportive and encouraging.
He also reminds me that in Him, I never have to reach a
certain level to be “good enough.” I am already redeemed. I am already free. He
reminds me of who I am in Him. He also reminds me that all things will align
when I am standing on His foundation, not the world’s sand.
You see, the world loves drama. Unhelpful, deteriorating, quickly-offered criticism
stemming from personal pain. Recently, one of my children was being bullied.
And after handling the situation with the help of the school principal, I had
shared with my girl this simple truth: hurting people hurt people.
Distraction. Judgment. Anger. War. Fear. Selfishness.
Pride.
God is the opposite. He is peace, joy, redemption, and the very ultimate Love. He is never-changing, always, certain. Freeing. Confident. Wise.
God is the opposite. He is peace, joy, redemption, and the very ultimate Love. He is never-changing, always, certain. Freeing. Confident. Wise.
As a parent, one who had adopted three times, I have found
myself caught up in doubt, focusing on the wrong people and things, listening
to voices that seek to tear down and infect me with everything God doesn’t want
from me. Reminds me of the Bible story I was just studying with my girls: Adam
and Eve. EAT THE FRUIT, the world tempts.
This is not what God wants. He wants NO competitors. No idols. He wants all of my heart, not the
leftover parts after I’ve given everything else away.
Anxiety isn’t from God. Distraction isn’t from God. Burning
anger isn’t from God. Revenge, confusion, those aren’t from God either.
Exhaustion: you
guessed it. Not from God.
As this season of thankfulness and giving quickly
approaches, I am choosing no exhaustion. And to do this, I must reject the
things that lead to exhaustion: listening and obeying distractions.
I choose to focus on the people and moments God puts before
me to help me learn and grow. I choose to focus on progress, not perfection,
because perfection is God, and I am not Him. I choose to focus on the path at
my feet.
I choose to focus on the three precious children I have the
honor of parenting. The kids who can’t
stop saying, “Look, Mom!” at every freshly fallen, colorful leaf, at every new bicycle
trick, at every scampering squirrel, at every new trampoline jump. The kids who
constantly offer humor. The kids who desire cuddles and kisses and soothing,
encouraging words. The kids whose soft hands rest on my cheeks. The kid who
cannot read enough books, eat enough homemade cookies, or have enough kitchen
dance parties. The kids who call me “Mama” when they are happy or “MOM!” when
they are frustrated.
I choose to listen to my village: the supportive,
encouraging, heart-challenging individuals who love my family and want the very
best for us.
I choose to fight for ethical adoption practices and
adoption education, through my writing and my interactions, because I think it’s
what God wants.
I choose to pursue my passions and use my gifts.
I choose to love God with ALL my heart, soul, and mind.
Unapologetically. Relentlessly. And to
teach my children to do the same.
I choose to remember David and Goliath. David won. The
victory is already mine, because God is the stones.
I choose to be reflective, like Mary, who pondered the
things God shared with her.
I choose empathy, listening to my children and giving them
what they need, when they need it, and how they need it.
All else will fall into place.
http://www.aholyexperience.com/ann-voskamp/ |
Me and my husband are waiting to adopt and I was having a really hard day with all the messiness today. God sent me to this article. I am grateful to Him and to you for writing it. Thank you! Ana
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