One day this past weekend I came downstairs this afternoon after snuggling my two babies to sleep, and my heart was full.
As I was lying between them, I’d told myself, “This is what you were made to do.”
This return home has not been without its hard times. Our original 3 are all working through the adjustment to having another child join the family, and we’ve seen some jealousy, some big feelings, some good (and not so good) conversations, and some world class tantrums. Jet lag is so intense. Matt and I are working through how to do marriage as parents of four and how to support each other in the midst of this new reality. I still have the last little bits of unpacking to tackle. This past week and a half has been immeasurably intense.
And in the midst of that, I’ve been so thankful for the encouragement of friends. A sweet friend of mine from Chicago, whom I don’t see nearly as often as I’d like but who is still such a blessing in my life, texted me the other day and said, “The gifts God gave you are an unusual mix – smarts, common sense, discipline…exactly what you need to do what he’s called you to at this time.” Those words of life-giving perspective were just what I needed in the midst of that afternoon.
I need to remember that parenting is good work. It’s work that God has called me to, it’s work for which He has and is equipping me, and it’s of the utmost importance. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that. Parenting isn’t generally grandiose. But the hearts and souls of these little people whom God has entrusted to my care are so precious, and the ways in which I interact with them matter. It’s easier to be peaceful and joyful in those interactions when I have a precious toddler sleeping on either side of me; harder when one of those toddlers is going on minute 25 of an intense tantrum. But whether a sweet moment or a challenging one, I am trying to remind myself that the time I’m spending investing in these little ones is important, and it’s the main work God has given me for this time in my life, and He is with me in every minute of it.
I actually thought I’d be less emotionally intense about the entire adoption process and the adjustments when we came home, having been through it all before, but that has not been the case. I was emotional while in China, and I’m emotional now.
That applies to the good and the bad. We got to go to church on Sunday morning and worship God as a family. Even up until the night before, we weren’t sure we’d attempt it. FangFang exhibited some pretty strong “mommy shopping” tendencies in China, but that has diminished some since we have come home, so we thought it might work for all of us to go and just to keep her close, and I think it went pretty well!
We sang the song, “Rejoice” by Dustin Kensrue, and as I sang the lyrics, I couldn’t help but reflect on our adoption journey:
All our sickness, all our sorrows
Jesus carried up the hill
He has walked this path before us
He is walking with us still
Turning tragedy to triumph
Turning agony to praise
There is blessing in the battle
So take heart and stand amazed
Rejoice, when you cry to Him He hears
Your voice, He will wipe away your tears
Rejoice, in the midst of suffering
He will help you sing
Rejoice, come and lift your hands and
Raise your voice, He is worthy of our praise
Rejoice, sing of mercies of your King
And with trembling rejoice
It’s such a blessing to be home with all four of our babies, and I know that God’s hand was in this whole process. I think of the health obstacles, the emotional obstacles, the financial obstacles, and everything else we had to work through to get to FangFang and bring her home, and I think of how it all came together with what in so many ways is perfect timing, and I know we couldn’t have done it all on our own. In the midst of the good and the bad, in the midst of sleeping babies and intense tantrums, in the midst of enjoying reconnecting with Matt and not really enjoying nights full of interruptions to our sleep, I’ll rejoice, thanking God for this work He’s given to me to do and thanking Him for bringing us to this place.