I snapped this shot a few nights ago as the sun was going down in the West behind the clouds. There was the most beautiful silver lining behind the clouds, and it reminded me of hope and a beautiful light at the end of this tunnel leading to the children God has for us.
Hope is what I'm clinging to today. Yesterday, we found out that the birthmother took a fall over July 4th weekend and had to go to the ER on Sunday night. We're being told via phone messages that the baby is fine, but that it was twisted and had to be repositioned in the womb. We're also told that the cord was wrapped loosely around the neck and are in the process of obtaining ER reports to take to an OBGYN appointment next week.
To be honest, my heart was already struggling with the unknowns of this, and my peace and courage took a nosedive yesterday. I felt angry, angry that just when I get my arms around the difficulty and uncertainty of this process, something else comes along to shake me. I poured out my heart to God about this as I walked outside, because I know He can handle my strong emotions, my questions, and my doubts. He remembers that I'm human, and I have limited understanding.
"With Hope," a Steven Curtis Chapman songnreminded me of hope being our anchor. I looked up that verse this morning, and I found these words to encourage my heart.
"For when God made a promise to Abraham, because He could swear by no one greater, He swore by Himself, saying, "Surely, blessing I will bless you, and multiplying, I will multiply you." And so after Abraham had patiently endured, he obtained the promise... we might have strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold of the hope set before us. This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which enters the Presence behind the veil, where the forefunner has entered for us, even Jesus, having become High Priest forever."
No matter what Satan tries to rob from me in the midst of the waiting, he can't rob me of my hope. Hope is my anchor, when the winds and the waves are beating against me. Yesterday, my spirit was fleeing to find my Rock and hide in the shelter of His wings. Today, I'm at home, sifting through my emotions and letting God walk along beside me and listen to my silent hurt and my questions and minister to my weariness.
Father, as your word says, speak comfort to me, cause me to sing, and lead me through this valley I'm in through the door of hope set before me.
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