Her precious shoes.

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So it’s past 3:00 am and I’m awake. It’s my long awaited night to rest and Jordan is up with the baby. Yet here I am… a sobbing mess.

What’s up, you ask???

Today was a long day. I was excited to jump into my empty queen bed for a night of blissful slumber. While I was brushing my teeth my mind began drifting towards our adoption process, as it often does. And then… God wrecked me. I could hardly finish brushing before the tears began to uncontrollably stream.

In order for me to experience one of the greatest joys in my life, someone is going to have to experience a heart-wrenching loss that most likely includes their life.

While yes, there are some elective adoptions out there — and, no, I am in no way insinuating that giving up their child for adoption is an easy thing– but my future children’s mother is most likely going to have to die. DIE. DIE?!!?! How has this escaped the joy that fills my heart? Is it American consumerism at it’s worst? Am I going on some huge shopping spree for additional family members with no regard to the labor it took to place the merchandise before me? Is it my sin- a narcissistic entitlement complex of the flesh? Oh Lord forgive my selfish soul!

I sunk down onto my bed in tears. As I rocked back and forth I began to cry out to God. I let my heart proceed to that place that it didn’t want to go: “Her shoes.” The ones that are probably at this moment going about their ordinary day, not knowing that these days are shortly numbered. Not knowing that her last moments of breath will most likely be filled with panic. Her children. Where will they go? To the streets? To institutional care? Then what? To a family that will capitalize on them and abuse? She obviously knows not one person to financially take them on, or else they wouldn’t end up in my arms in the end. Her babies. Her little ones she felt kick from the inside. That she bore with great labor pains and nursed throughout the night. The sweet little cries that she learned to differentiate between. The ones she can’t bare to leave this world without knowing where they will go and what will ever happen to them. Oh LORD! Why must this happen?! Stop this. STOP! STOP IT NOW!!! My heart cannot stand beneath the weight of this understanding!

I finally found myself crying out, “Lord, I have no words to pray. I have nothing.” 

The tears continued as I buried my face into the blankets. I began praying for peace for her in those final moments. And that’s when the Lord reminded me that His spirit can give a peace that surpasses our understanding… and that includes hers. But that peace cannot come unless she attains His Spirit within. 

Here. This is what He wanted me to see. I am to pray for her to find Him. That is the most loving thing I can do for her, next to taking in her children and loving them as my own. And in her finding Him… and with His help, me raising her children to find Him too… we can one day rightfully unite them for eternity. A love restored. 

So that’s it. Please friends, will you pray with me? Will you hold me accountable to the fervent prayer that God wisely chose to only reveal once my own mother’s heart could fully identify? This is my biggest request far beyond any check of support you could hand me. I’m asking you to write it on your bathroom mirror… to place it on a bookmark or your journal… put it in your echo prayer app… just something! DON’T LOSE IT IN THE HUSTLE AND BUSTLE OF YOUR DAY-TO-DAY GRIND. Pray that my babies’ mother finds rest in Jesus, both in her death and eternal life.

Have thoughts? Leave a comment below.