Post by: Jami
Our four-year-old son Sam is a riot. Perhaps because he is so much younger than our four biological children, he is used to being the center of attention. He is accustomed to his demands and commands being heard and implemented. We all roar laughing when he says, “Wisten to me, here’s how it’s gonna be…. I want a sammich and some juice box. Den I going to watch Batman.” And no, we don’t fully comply. Yes, we correct him. Still he says it.
I am really no different than Sam.
I think I am in control.
In the mass treasure trove of things God finds entertaining, I am certain I am on His play list. And no, I don’t think He sits on high with a jeweled remote control making me dance. I believe in free will, unfortunately not only do I believe I have free will I like to verbalize my free will in an obnoxious fashion.
When we started our foster-to-adopt journey I told God, “I will take in any child, as long as they are foster-to-adopt. I don’t want to get hurt and losing a child would hurt too much.”
And I have free will, no one is the boss of me and like a four-year-old I assert myself.
Here’s how it’s gonna be….
As we readied our home for two adoptable little girls, I prayed that they would be happy with us and I asked God to bless them. I told God that after their placement we were done. When my phone rang and I saw the caller ID I knew, my girls were finally coming. We would be a family of nine. I would be a super mom! We would adopt them and live happily ever after.
But the voice on the other end of the line informed me the girls were moved to another city and they would not be coming to us.
I got hurt.
A few months later we got a phone call, late in the evening, about 10:30 pm. The call was from our agency. An infant baby boy was alone at the hospital. He was injured very badly.
I questioned, “Is he adoptable?”
And the caseworker replied, “Well Jami, I don’t know, but he’s alone. And he is hurt.”
As I drove to the hospital I told God, “Here’s how it’s gonna be…. I will go sit with him. I will pray for him and I will cuddle him. I won’t fall in love with him. I don’t want to get hurt.” Later in the sterile hospital room, lit only by city lights and a beeping bedside monitor, I held the tiny battered cherub and read scripture to him. I told him about Jesus and prayed for God to ease his pain. I was overcome with love. And as we both drifted off to sleep I heard a voice, deep in my soul whisper,
“Here’s how it’s gonna be…. This is going to hurt.”
The journey was filled with anxiety and heartache, it was a rollercoaster of the unknown, and a division of my heart like I hadn’t known was possible. As much as I adored this boy, I wanted good things for his family. I didn’t want them to lose him, and I didn’t want him to lose them. I told God how to fix it and I told God what I would do. But no one is the boss of the God of Israel.
A few months ago our agency called. They had an infant baby girl that needed placement within the hour. We accepted and I went into the closet to “pray.” And I told God, “Here’s how it’s gonna be…. We will care for her. But we won’t fall in love and after this one, I am done.” And we loved on her and played with her and bought sweet little girl clothes.
Then I met her parents. Walking wounded, in love with their baby. Good and decent sinners, just like me. And I heard a still small voice deep in my soul whisper,
“Here’s how it’s gonna be…. This is going to hurt.”
I recognize my prayer life is no different than the verbiage our four-year-old son implements when he is telling us “Here’s how it’s gonna be….” My prayers are rarely prayers of submission. I believe I am in control. I organize and coordinate how I want things. And these aren’t really prayers. These are bossy demands.
A colossal contradiction to prayer in communion with a God that seeks to bless not curse. A God that delivers us from evil, and parts seas for safe travel. A God who brings the Savior of the World via a virgin birth. He is master of all that is creative and spectacular. He is the maker of heaven and earth.
Much like we laugh at Sam for thinking he is the boss of us, I picture my God on high shaking His head. A gentle smile and a sweet adoration for me, His girl. A booming chuckle escapes Him. And a small voice deep in my soul whispers,
“Oi vey, Jami, here’s how it’s gonna be. This is going to hurt. But you are mine, I will not leave you or forsake you. You will follow this calling I have put on your heart. You came to serve, not be served. You will be last, not first. I am right here, work with Me – chin up darling – let’s do this together.”
And my soul is well – with my God in charge of how things are gonna be.
“In the days of His flesh, He offered up both prayers and supplications with loud crying and tears to the One able to save Him from death, and He was heard because of His piety. Although He was a Son, He learned obedience from the things which He suffered.” Hebrews 5:7-8
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Jami Amerine is a wife, and mother to anywhere from 6-8 children. Jami and her husband Justin are active foster parents and advocates for foster care and adoption. Jami’s Sacred Ground Sticky Floors is fun, inspirational, and filled with utter lunacy with a dash of hope. Jami holds a degree in Family and Consumer Sciences (yes Home Ec.) and can cook you just about anything, but don’t ask her to sew. She also holds a Masters Degree in Education, Counseling, and Human Development. Her blog includes topics on marriage, children, babies, toddlers, learning disabilities, tweens, teens, college kids, adoption, foster care, Jesus, homeschooling, unschooling, dieting, not dieting, dieting again, chronic illness, stupid people, food allergies, and all things real life. You can find her blog at Sacred Ground Sticky Floors, follow her on Facebook or Twitter.
5 CommentsLeave a comment
[…] correct him. Still he says it. I am really no different than Sam. I think I am in control…. Continue reading on […]
Of course Jami, you made me cry….again.
Life is messy–Thank God we have a Savior!
Beautiful. I can relate.