Orphan Sunday.
I am so broken I cannot write, I cannot speak of it.
A fear? A longing? A hope? So much unknown.
There is a Hope in me.
Waiting to be conceived.
I do not understand the fullness of it; what it might be.
A child? A thing? A life?
I have felt the promise of her, for so long, for so many years. When another baby grew in my belly, I thought she would be Hope. But no, not yet. She was not my little Hope.
And then another new life, our 7th child to hold...but this one all boy; still not my promised Hope.
In time, God said, "There are to be no more big brothers." What, Lord…what? So hard to understand, and yet a finality that is both relief and agonizing sorrow.
Felt God whisper to me again today, in the blue-sky-wind, "There is a Hope inside...."
The Creator is waiting patiently for me to do my part, for Kevin to do his part.
I do not understand at all what it means. But He is calling us to join Him in creating, growing, nurturing this new thing, this new Hope of life, of something I know not. I'm confused, and aching-longing-sad, and yet full of Hope.
I've begun to think perhaps the Hope He has long been promising me is not a child at all. How could it be so, to be conceived in me, when He so clearly named our last, our 'coda?' Is it the hope of something altogether different? A new season? A time of growth, obedience, abundance? A new path? Or another, somewhere out there, the love & longing for her conceived in me, but not borne of my body?
And even as I type it, I weep, and weep, and the small black letters blur & run & drip on the screen, and I cry out, "O God! O God, I don't understand! Speak! Lead me!"
And He tells me, "Even the rocks will multiply."
What?? Isn't that supposed to be, "even the rocks will cry out??"
I have no idea what You mean, Lord!
But I am listening.
And there is a Hope inside me, still.
