Two hours. That is how long I have been typing. And then deleting. Typing. And then deleting. Typing. Annnd then…? Yep! You guessed it. Deleting. Why can’t I seem to find the words? It’s never this hard. But as I sit here, deleting the original post I had planned and started to write. And now obviously struggling to write this one? I hear a voice whisper in my ear. And it says, “just write it from the heart.” Uh? But don’t I already do that? Don’t I always write from the heart? And I do. Every single post is written from that place. But can I be honest for a second? I don’t always write to you about the moments when life gets hard. Or when I feel overwhelmed. Or stressed. I don’t always share with the world when everything seems to be turning upside down. Or when I am fearful and worried. Or when my heart feels like it could shatter at any minute. I just don’t. I don’t always find it necessary. But tonight? I’m going to listen to my inner voice. And I’m going to write to you from the heart. My heart. And friends? Right now? It’s a scary place. Because lately, it won’t stop staring at my circumstances. And it won’t stop whispering words of fear. And worry. And heartache. Because when I stop writing for a second. And I listen to my husband read a Bible story to our foster princess in the next room? I think about our court hearing tomorrow. And I become filled with anxiety at the fact that in the blink of an eye, she could go home. Or be placed with a relative. And just like that, I won’t need to add macaroni and cheese to my grocery list this week. Or the next. And the pretend sandwiches I have gobbled down for breakfast, lunch, and supper for the past 16 months? Won’t be brought to my lap. Or those boo-boo’s she asks me to pray for every night? Will no longer be said. Or at least by me. And lunch for two with Queen Elsa on the front patio? Will become lunch for one. And it’s hard. Goodness it’s hard. But life is hard. It’s not easy. It’s painful. And it hurts. But life today is no different from how life was for me two days ago. So why is everything all of a sudden so unbearable? And what’s the cure for my anxious heart? And how can I find my way back to hope? Or get back to the place where my faith is so strong that I not only believe I can climb over my mountains? But throw them? Because let’s be real for a second. Trouble will always be present. Doubt will always arise. Fear will always come. And worry will always want to wrap me up like a warm blanket. So how? How can I protect my heart in this season of uncertainty? I don’t know. But these questions eat at me. Because shouldn’t I know? Shouldn’t I have the perfect Sunday school answers at the end of my finger tips? I feel like I should. And maybe I do. But maybe I can’t take my mind off my circumstances long enough to remember them. Which is likely. Because in this moment? I honestly can’t think of anything else but the uncertainties of tomorrow and the months to come. And I can’t see anything else in my mind but an empty closet where she once hung her clothes. Or an empty bed that she once snuggled inside. I can’t. Or can I? Because as I pause from writing this to wipe away my tears. I look up on my wall. And I see it. There it is. My cure. And it is written on the glass of an old, beat up window frame. And it says…
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God…~John 14:1”
So tonight, as I turn out the lights. And I close my eyes. I will rest in the cure. And I will stop allowing my heart to be troubled by thinking and envisioning the moment I no longer have lunch with the Queen. Or the day I don’t get to eat a pretend sandwich for breakfast. Or the first night I am not able to pray for her every boo-boo. And instead, I will trust. I will trust in His wisdom. In His protection. In His love. In His faithfulness. And ultimately, in His perfect plan. Because I know she isn’t just my little princess that I would do anything to protect. But His little princess too.
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