Alone. Abandoned. Disappointed. Isolated. Forgotten.
This is how waiting often feels.
Waiting through a holiday season can be particularly difficult. For months I had a imagined celebrating Christmas with a new baby, or at least the promise of one soon to come.
I’m not only talking about Christmas 2020, when we were waiting for an adoption match. The same feelings of disappointment and isolation also clouded several Christmases in years past, as we prayed and worked and longed for a baby of our own (read part of that story here).
No matter what you are waiting on – a baby, healing, a job, a spouse, a fresh start – feelings of being abandoned and forgotten can creep up on you, overtake you, steal the joy from every corner of life. I know. I’ve been there, more times than I like to remember.
But I have good news, friends: Waiting doesn't have to feel this way!
This Christmas season wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. We were busy in a great way, filling our days and evenings with as much holiday cheer as a pandemic world would allow. Honestly, our Christmas wasn’t all that different from other years. We’ve been so fortunate to maintain our small family circle this entire time, save a few weeks of quarantine here and there. We were able to continue many of our traditions, and our kids are at such great ages to really embrace the magic of Christmas, so this Christmas season really was a joyful one.
It wasn’t until my birthday, which falls between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, that sadness for our waiting really hit me, and it followed me into the new year. I was listless, and as I tried to focus on positive plans for 2021 I found it hard to think of anything wasn’t connected to “if/when we have a baby”.
One morning I watched a devotional video from my Dear Mushka newsletter. It was great, but what struck me most was the next video that auto played. It was a video from a few years ago of Katie, founder of Dear Mushka, answering some general FAQs about adoption. I was curious so I began watching, agreeing with much of what she said about the logistical side of applications, home studies, and costs.
As she talked about how they raised the funds for their first adoption, she encouraged people to not be afraid of adoption, even though the process and price tags can be overwhelming. She said something along the lines of, If God calls you to it, He will hold your hand the whole way through.
If God calls you to it, He will hold your hand the whole way through. That threw my thoughts into a whirlwind that landed on But I am all alone. God is not holding my hand right now. I thought He would be, but somewhere He let go.
I was overwhelmed by loneliness.
As I often do when I’m overwhelmed, I grabbed my journal and just starting scribbling without thinking. Here’s what I wrote:
I feel alone. I feel like God brought us to this place, then let go of my hand and said, “Wait here, I’ll be back.” Maybe He’s going to prepared the way. Maybe He’s going to be with our baby and birth mom. I feel forgotten. Not led astray, really. I still am confident we are supposed to be on this path to adoption – although I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to tiny doubts creeping in.
Then I paused. I put down my pen, and just took a moment to be still and listen.
In the stillness, I found truth. I found hope.
I found that God hadn't really let go of my hand: I had let go of His.
In the bustle of life and the holidays, I had stopped diligently seeking Him and praying for our child. After so many disappointments – so. many. rejections. – I’d become detached from the process. I lost much of my enthusiasm for new cases: what was the point, when it was just going to be another rejection? I’d become very impatient, frustrated that my efforts weren’t bearing results, and frankly a little annoyed at the whole thing.
Why had our journey lost its sparkle? Because I took my eyes off of Jesus. I dwelled on the disappointments, and wallowed in the waiting. I began to doubt what I had been called to do, simply because it was taking so long.
It’s like Peter walking on the water towards Jesus. Peter stepped out of the boat in faith and was elated when he found he didn’t sink into the sea. But then he felt the storm. It was only when he realized the wind and waves that were bigger than he anticipated, when he shifted his focus off of Jesus and onto the storm, that he started to sink. What made Peter sink was focusing on the storm around him instead of Jesus right beside him. (Read this story in Matthew 14: 22-32)
Here's the good news: Jesus is always near, stretching out His hand
to catch us up no matter how big the storm gets.
No matter how many times I lose focus, no matter how many times I question myself and His plan, Jesus will be there each time I reach out to Him, gently asking, “You of little faith; why did you doubt?”
It wasn’t the storm that made Peter sink. The storm was there all along, and it didn’t change. Jesus knew exactly what He was asking Peter to step into. My “storm”, my waiting, hasn’t changed either. It’s very different than I thought it would be, but God is not surprised by my wait because He knows the end of this chapter. He already knows when, where, who, and how this baby will bless our family and others. And if I choose to focus on His plan, His timing, instead of how it’s not going my way, then I can see that He truly is walking beside me through the storm.
Instead of feeling alone, abandoned, and forgotten, I feel encouraged that God does go before me without ever leaving me. (Deuteronomy 31:8)
After feeling disappointed by another “no”, I anticipate that waiting faithfully in my storm leads to growing endurance and steadfastness to make me whole and COMPLETE. (James 1:3)
Instead of feeling isolated, I draw nearer to God to feel Him drawing nearer to me. (James 4:8)
Connection. Hope. Anticipation. Peace. Love. COMPLETE.
This is how waiting can feel when you focus on Jesus instead of the storm around you.
Let me encourage you today with a few of the songs that encourage me most.
These are not my songs, but I find that the easiest way to turn my focus away from the storm is music. Here are a few I have on repeat right now that remind me that God is with me in the storm.
