Courage

People keep asking how we are doing.

After the first week, I felt... mostly normal. Sad, a little angry, but peaceful for the most part. I attributed it to the amount of prayers being said on our behalf - like I wrote here, I felt protected by so many.

And this past weekend, I admitted to two different sets of friends that although I am still sad, and don't understand why this happened to us, I was surprised that I wasn't bitter.

I expected to be bitter if the adoption failed. In fact, I told Matt the week before the baby was born that if this didn't work out, I knew my faith would suffer - I knew I would be angry and bitter at God. Given the four years of struggle to become parents, I also knew I would truly question the foundation of my faith if it didn't work out.

And it failed and I was so hurt. But I didn't question the foundation of my faith the way I thought I would. I didn't experience bitterness the way I thought I would. I had moments of being truly heartbroken, feeling alone and angry, but there were also moments where I felt fine, hopeful even. 

I hadn't spent a lot of time with God in the last few weeks because I didn't know what to say, or do, but I didn't feel that ache of a hardened heart as I thought about my relationship with Him.

However, the minute I walked into church on Sunday morning, that all changed. The congregation was singing, people were smiling and I immediately wanted to turn around and run out of the building. Instantly, my eyes welled with tears, my heart started to race, and I heard hateful, awful things fly through my head. 

The entire service I didn't want to listen, I didn't want to sing, I just wanted to leave.  Finally the service ended. I hugged my friends, made small talk. On the ride home, I admitted to Matt that I couldn't worship or listen. It hurt too much. Matt squeezed my hand and said, "That's OK, baby. God understands."

Obviously, I am in denial. All that thinking I wasn't bitter, all that feeling fine, was just pure avoidance of the situation.

I don't know how to "deal" with this exactly. I know I need to face this, but I'm afraid and tired.  I beat myself up all Sunday afternoon for not dealing with my grief, for feeling bitterness towards God when I had just admitted to friends that I didn't feel it.

But then, as I was catching up on my blog reading (and avoiding thinking about all this emotional junk) I ran across this amazing quote on my friend Audrey's blog:

“Courage, it would seem, is nothing less than the power to overcome danger, misfortune, fear, injustice, while continuing to affirm inwardly that life with all its sorrows is good; that everything is meaningful even if in a sense beyond our understanding; and that there is always tomorrow.”

- Dorothy Thompson

I read it again and again and my heart quieted a little. I talked about my grief with friends on Tuesday night, and a teammate on Wednesday, and my parents last night. There is no manual for this, no map, no right or wrong. I need to remember that "blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted". I need to cling to the fact that I will not always feel like this.

I need to cling to the idea that life with all its sorrows is still good. God please give me some courage.