If this is my cup

There is an older(ish) song with a line that states, "If this is my cup I'll learn to drink it."  

 Recently, we have been offered a cup that I wanted to refuse.  My response to what God had allowed to transpire was a resounding, grievous, "NO!  I can't do that, I won't do that.  It hurts too bad and I'm totally incapable of such a task.... again."

We were asked, surprisingly and suddenly, to be ready to let go of a little one that we love ever so deeply, every so passionately, ever so completely as one we believed would be our forever little girl for quite some time now. 

Loving a child desperately, only to let go is the hardest thing that I, personally, have had to endure on this earth.  Though it pales in comparison to what others are called to do in obedience to God's leading, it is, nonetheless, the sacrifice that we have been asked to make in our ministry of fostering and, Lord willing, adopting.

With our first foster son, A, we didn't know if we'd ever get over the pain of loss ... the pain that almost left us rejecting this whole "leading" thing after all.  We didn't "get over" it; we will always feel anguish and shed tears over the good bye to our boy of 18 months.  But we did experience God's incredible comfort and compassion and realized what is required of those who follow Him.  His love is a love that takes risks and cost him greatly ... and so must ours. 

He brought another little one into our lives that we were told would be ours for a short while.  We knew the heartache that awaited us, so we clung to our moments with her ever so tightly, wanting them to last forever.  Such love, accompanied with such bitter knowledge, is a painful kind of love.  In one moment you get lost in the beauty of the laughter that escapes her sweet lips as you greet her in the morning... then comes the heaviness of knowing that this too shall end.  Tears flow freely and often and an ache within the soul accompanies every.waking.minute.

But, she was worth it, so we would endure with His strength.  What a miraculous gift and complete surprise we were granted at the end of that long, painful valley.  She would be our daughter forever, never to be removed.  That moment was my most rapid ascension to a mountain top from a dark valley that I have yet known.  And the next, my most rapid decline.

Our little "Elle" entered our home a short time later, while still basking in the glory of the view from our mountain top. Within several months, we had adoption papers in the works and approved by the state.  She became our absolute joy and delight and proof to us that God does immeasurably more than we could ask or imagine.  We hadn't planned on a fifth child, but His ways are greater than our ways and we remain so grateful!! 

When court proceedings began, just a short while ago, there was a surprising, horrific decision to give "more time" to the birth mom, giving her the opportunity at this late date to try (once again) to win back custody of her child.  It didn't make any sense to anyone.  The shock was widespread and I could barely breathe.  I scurried out of the courtroom just as quickly as I was able, gagging and choking as I went.  The pain of that moment was some of the most intense I have known - the thought of losing our girl left me curled in a ball on the floor of my van wailing away uncontrollably.  It was there that I cried out to God, "NO!"  I didn't want this cup to drink.   I remembered Jesus asking his Father in the garden, "Please, if there is any other way..." 

But there was no other way and Jesus walked in obedience, no matter the cost.

The past month has been a challenging one - God has asked me to show love to another in a way that goes against every fiber in my being.  There is hurt, there is pain, there is confusion, there is anger, there is a passion to protect sweet "Elle" from any further harm or trauma and yet, I must put on His character and act in love towards her birth mom.  We are also being asked to love again with that painful love - the kind that comes with no guarantees of a reward in the end, the kind that could potentially result in utter heartache and loss.  How grateful I am that He says, "My grace is sufficient for you.  My strength is made perfect in your weakness!"  There are few times in life that I have felt so emotionally weak and feeble.  We trust in His sovereignty, we depend upon His strength, we hold tightly to His promises.  A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows is God in his holy dwelling.  God sets the lonely in families.  (Psalm 68:5)

If this is our cup, we'll learn to drink it.