That (un)Peaceful, (un)Easy Feeling

I'm sure you've heard the phrase, "that peaceful, easy feeling" before. While I'm not sure that it is a direct quotation from Scripture, certainly the Bible discusses feeling at peace about things as we endure them. Being a Christian since I was seven, there's always a few things that really stick out in my mind of basic truths I learned about my faith. One of them was about peace. I can remember Bible Drill days where memorizing verses was the norm, and one that always stills strikes a chord is Phil 4:7 (NASB) "And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." I think I've struggled off and on throughout the years to really identify what "peace" means for me personally in my relationship with the Lord. I'm not a huge "feeling" kind of person. What I mean by that is this: I feel emotions but am not often swayed by them. It's one of the things that I actually like about myself---stressful situations rarely get the best of my emotions, I tend be about the same mood all the time, and I don't feel captive to my emotions day in and day out. In the counseling world, I see so many people who are so tied to their emotions all the time that logic tends to go out the window. That works for some people, but it rarely does for me. So in thinking about experiencing God's peace in my life, it isn't always tied to a feeling I have...I don't feel stressed and then suddenly feel completely at peace. I might have just outed myself as being a weirdo, but I can handle it.

Anyways, there have been a handful of times when I have been driven by feelings moreso than thinking. In our summer session Bible study, we've been learning about how faithful God is, how abundant He is, and now we're studying how true He is. Beth Moore spoke on her video portion this week about trusting your "spiritual gut." I honestly struggle with listening to my spiritual gut at times because of the doubt that tends to creep in. (She spoke on this aspect as well, so I at least I felt validated that I wasn't the only one that struggles with this.) Anyways, Satan always tries to cast doubt on what I'm thinking or feeling when I tend to want to follow my spiritual gut. I will say this relates mostly to big decisions that I feel either I need to make or big decisions that Hudson and I need to make together. So, here's a recent recap of how this has played out.

In May, I attended our adoption agency's spring seminar---great refresher on adoption issues, good information about the timeline of adoption, and a great way to connect to other adoptive families. One of the agency's leaders stood up at one point to discuss a particular subject (I don't remember what), and mentioned that she would be calling on several of the waiting families about an unusual potential adoption on the horizon. I had "that" feeling. You know the one where you know that if you could just fast forward the next 2 months or so, the outcome you "feel" comes true. I "knew" when she said this that Hudson and I would be one of those families and that we would be picked. I can't put my finger on it, but with really big things in my life, I sometimes get a glimpse sometimes into how it will turn out. Not always, but sometimes. This was one of those times where I momentarily questioned what I just thought, but it quickly turned into a pretty strong assurance that we would be picked.

Fast forward one month and I was right. We got the call in mid-June that we had, in fact, been picked by the birthmom of this particular situation. While I'd love to say that I was excited when we got the call, I just had a feeling in my "gut" that wasn't right. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what "it" was, but it stayed with me nevertheless. I was working at VBS one evening when we found out. I texted Hudson (he was in a different class) the word "chosen." Several hours later, when we were walking out to the car, he said to me, "what was that text about?" And then looked at me and did the whole, "Ahh, now I get it" look. We had driven separate cars and Micayla wanted to ride with Daddy, so I got 20 minutes of prayer time to myself. I really prayed that God would give us wisdom and discernment in the next few weeks and that we would feel at peace. And yet, even after that prayer, I didn't feel at peace.

I would like to believe that most of my hesitation stemmed from our failed adoption last November. Or that I was just scared about the potential circumstances that surround this particular adoption experience. (I can't really go into many details but the adoption was for a preemie born at 25 weeks and would likely be out of the hospital this fall.) We really had little information other than what I just wrote...we didn't know much about medical history, or medical circumstances currently. I'm a planner that likes to know the most information possible, and in this situation I felt like I had the least amount available. Our agency was great about trying to provide us with info, but they too were at a bit of a roadblock because the birthmom had already given birth and the hospital was very *understandably* protective of any information going out about this little one. Anyways, Hudson and I were united in the fact that if this was something that God had chosen for us, then we needed to be faithful to His plan instead of trying to orchestrate our own. Yet, despite our prayers and talks between us, there was something in me that just didn't give me the full excitement and confidence that we've had in the past with adoption experiences.

And here is where I struggled. God's will for our lives could include this adoption, or it couldn't, and I didn't have a good feeling about it either way. Was my uneasiness, my "unpeacefulness" if you will, a sign from Him? Was He allowing unease to be the way He directed us? (Let me back up by saying that I was hesitant to actually have our profile shown for this one, but my husband felt we should and that my hesitancy more came from going through the process again after November. So I followed my husband's lead and prayed that God would give me peace about having our profile shown.) Except that peace never came.

There were some other big details regarding this particular adoption that never sat well with me. One of them was regarding the name that the birthmom had chosen for this little one. She was fairly insistent that the name she gave him would be the name that he was called by. Our agency requires the adoptive family to take one of the names that a birthmom gives her child and incorporate it into the name that we have chosen. Except that there are rare circumstances where the birthmom wants the child to be called a certain name, and the adoptive family doesn't get to truly bestow their own name on that child. I didn't love the name she picked, and didn't like it. I couldn't picture myself rocking this baby and calling him by this name....And I prayed hard that God would remove my own selfishness regarding giving a name to this little one that we had chosen and allow me to love the name she had picked. I truly chalked it up to my own selfish, sinful ways that barred me from liking this name. But no matter how much I prayed over it, and prayed that God would either allow me to love it, or allow the birthmom to compromise with us about keeping that name, by allowing us to give him a name that we would call him by, it just didn't change that feeling in my gut. Names are a big deal to me--we picked Micayla's carefully and it has a lot of meaning for Hudson and myself. We both have names that mean something to our families, to our heritage, to us. And when I was thinking through all of us, the pity party in me really wanted to cry out that since I already don't get to have babies the "normal" way, that at least I could give an adoptive child a name that we pick and that has a lot of meaning to us. (And the pity party did come out a few times...I'll be honest.)

Anyways, after much discussion with our agency, and after having set up a first meeting with the birthmom (but it hadn't occurred yet), Hudson and I talked late several evenings, prayed hard together, I prayed on my own time (all day long really), and read by Bible and tried everything I could to be "at peace" with all of this. When it came down to it, Hudson called our agency, shared our concerns, our "unease", and they shared with us some guidance that we needed. We'd talked with a few friends, a few family members, but for us, we struggled with several things and we needed to hear from the people that organize these adoptions and have been in the ministry of adoption for 20+ years. And what they told us was so helpful...they reminded us that God speaks to us sometimes in our circumstances by not necessarily putting roadblocks, but by giving us that "(un)peaceful, (un)easy feeling." While I don't advocate for making all big decisions just on whether or not your gut feels at peace or doesn't feel at peace, this was one of those times that we needed to figure out what our spiritual guts were telling us. We needed to see the Lord's discernment and prayed for wisdom often. And He gave it to us. But not without some major questions that we had to answer to ourselves first.

One of the questions that I struggled with that we might be taking ourselves out of the picture of having another child. While I have no guarantee that we'll be able to become adoptive parents again, our desire is to do so...and since Hudson has always wanted to have more than 1 child (he's an only child), we prayed, turned in our paperwork for baby #2, and we wait. (We've waited about 18 months at this point.) So if we choose to pull out of this potential adoption, there was a scary thought in me that I would be turning down the only opportunity that God was giving us to become parents again. Yet, again, my doubts appear. I know for a fact that this isn't the only opportunity for us to be parents again--we had the opportunity to do so in November, we just had a failed placement. Opportunity was there, completion was not. I struggled that my own selfish desires, whether it be about the name, or about his medical future, or (insert all of them here), was impacting my normal "clear-headedness" and causing me to work solely off of emotion. I struggled with knowing that one of our options was to pull out, and doing so willingly pulled us out of an opportunity to adopt. Yet, in adoption, there are no guarantees. Much like November, moments before we got in the car to go pick up that baby boy who we thought was joining our family, we found out that the last 7 weeks of meeting and connecting with a birthmom doesn't guarantee any outcome. And we grieved over that loss. And we prayed (and still do) that we don't have to experience another failed placement. I'm guessing it is the closest we'll ever come to knowing what a miscarriage or stillbirth is like---to plan for a (short) while, only for your hopes to come crashing down. While I don't doubt God's sovereignty over that situation, it's hard in the moment to not always reflect on what you've been through when you are going through something else. (And honestly, we're feel at peace about the failed placement...it took a while, but we know that truly, it was the best thing for that baby, and the best thing for our family.)

I feel like I am rambling and no one is going to understand a word I am writing. I guess that's why this is more for me than it is for you. :) So Hudson and I faced with two choices: continue on with the planned adoption, accepting the name, accepting the large medical unknowns, or pull out of the planned adoption before we met birthmom. (And we weren't going to pull out of the adoption solely based on the potential medical concerns, we just wanted to know what we were facing.) Our agency was good about telling us that they have seen this enough times to know that something "better" always came out of situations like these. Whether it was "better" for us in the end to not be the adoptive parents, or "better" to learn to go beyond our insecurities and have faith that God would bring feelings to us that we weren't feeling currently, either way, they knew God was at work. They shared with us that while they would be disappointed in having an adoptive family pull out, they also know that while the temporary situation would be uncomfortable, when the "right" adoptive family came into the picture, they would be able to see how much "better" it would be for everyone involved when all is said and done. And frankly, birthmom could still decide to parent despite our choice, which might have been best for baby anyways...no way for us to know that. We were given an evening to pray further about it, and then we needed to let our adoption agency know our decision. We didn't want to go into meeting birthmom and then pull out--we didn't feel that would be fair to her. More than anything, we wanted what was best for everyone--us, birthmom, the baby.

I barely could keep it together...not being a crier, it's a pretty good sign that if I'm crying, I'm either seriously stressed (like the days before my LPC exam) or really upset about something. When Hudson came home early that day and hugged me and I fell apart because of the decision weighing on my shoulders, he knew. I shared all my thoughts and feelings with him, but the question he asked me made me want to sit down and beat the floor. I prayed for post it notes to fly down from Heaven with the words, "yes" or "no" written on them. I prayed for a clear sign to know how to proceed. I searched Scripture for a verse that convicted me either way. My spiritual gut said to pull out--that this wasn't what God had planned for us or for the baby. But pulling out meant turning away the one thing that I can't do--give a baby to our family. Hudson was so much more easygoing with this than I was---I felt alone because he didn't struggle with all the things I was struggling with. He even admitted to not loving the name, but felt he could be okay with it, but also understood that my job as a mother was going to involve a lot more bonding and attachment than his job as a father and provider for our family. He understood and put words to my concern that if I felt that I was going to struggle with bonding to this child, that maybe this wasn't the child for us.

I felt like I had been through a hurricane....whipped back and forth by the wind. One moment convinced we should stick it out and not "evacuate" and the next feeling like we should pack up and leave ASAP. So few times have I battled this strongly internally that I forgot the exhaustion that comes. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to love on our little girl, I wanted to prepare for our vacation, I wanted a decision to be made. Hudson asked me if we should pull out and I couldn't voice the words. I think the actuality was that if I was the one that said we should pull out, I knew I might feel regret...regret that I "cost" our family a child to accept and love on despite the challenges, regret that I made a decision that Hudson didn't feel as strongly with, regret that it might not be God's desire for us to pull out, but rather to stay in. Regret. I hate feeling regretful about things. We prayed, we talked, we stayed up late thinking things through. And then we slept. And then Hudson woke me up early and told me that we should pull out. And while I questioned our decision, my spiritual gut told me that this was right. And after he called the agency to let them know, he told me that he felt at peace for the first time about it all. And so did I. I finally had peace even though I didn't like the outcome. It was still sad to pull out of something that we were somewhat planning on (if one can really plan with adoption). Throughout that day, I heard that still small voice remind me of God's promises, and confirmation over the decision we'd made. I'm not sure if we should have pulled out sooner as I can't really look back and say with certainty that there was a specific time that I felt that we should absolutely, positively not move forward. Peace came. Resting in Him came. I would say that "easiness" came, but really, when you are a parent of an almost 3 year old, easiness is hard to come by these days. I heard throughout the day the hymns of old in my mind about peace, even changing the song "Grace, Grace, God's grace..." to "Peace, Peace, God's peace..." in my mind. I reminded myself over and over again that God has the ability to use this situation to shape my continually growing faith in Him...He was ever so faithful to let me wade into waters I didn't completely understand the depth of. He was faithful to be there the entire time I struggled, always redirecting me back to Him. And my prayer changed that day, from thanksgiving to truly walking us through what felt like a storm, to open ended prayers for a little baby who needs a loving home, to a birthmom faced with many decisions about that baby's future, and if she decides to place him for adoption, for the adoptive parents to be so perfect for that situation that she doesn't question what happened at all. And that He may be greater and glorified through all of this, and that the birthmom would see God's hands in this, not ours.

It's been a few weeks since all this took place. We have felt more and more at peace as the days have come and gone. We have prayed faithfully for that birthmom and that baby, that God's will would outshine (doesn't it always?) what occurred over the last month. And we've prayed for ourselves--that the child meant for our family would come soon to join us, and that this fork in the road would be one more way that we get to see how God's plan always works out better than our plans.

"Come, Holy Spirit" (words/music by M. W. Chaplin)
Come, Holy Spirit, come;
I have need of Your healing grace.
Come, make me pure within;
all my sins erase.
Let them, like bonds set free,
nevermore my captors be.
Humbly to You I bow;
Come, Holy Spirit, now.

Come, gentle Jesus, come;
I have need of Your perfect peace.
May calm repose begin;
all my fears release.
Let them on wings take flight,
nevermore to cloud my sight.
Not only for this day,
Come, gentle Jesus, stay.