But Even If Not

For the second time this year, I'm approaching a date on my calendar with a little black circle in the upper left corner signaling to me I could start breathing easy. And for the second time, that little black circle reminds me that life is precious and fragile and beyond my control. I'm not approaching this date with sweet relief like I hoped and prayed; instead, I'm approaching this date with a daily fight to have my hope in the One who holds this life together. 

Today, I had my final blood draw to do one last set of tests, and my doctor met with me to discuss what it could look like to move forward. As I waited in the room for the doctor to enter, I could a hear a Mama in the room next door getting her ultrasound. That swoosh, swoosh, swoosh was so loud, and I whispered out loud, "Savor it." I fought to get control of my emotions, as I was determined to not cry this time, I repeated the verse that has become just second nature to pray, "But I will hope continually and praise you yet more and more. My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all the day, for their number is past my knowledge." Psalm 71:14-15

Adam and I have processed this loss much differently from each other this time around, and it's required an intentional effort to be gracious with each other as we deal with what happened and look to what's next. Since Sammy left, our plan was to re-open our home to another foster placement at the end of summer if we weren't expecting a baby. We now face that reality. Knowing that at this point, we have no plans to try to grow our family with another biological child, we are left trusting God to grow our family as He sees fit. Our hearts are for fostering, and even if another Tomberlin had arrived in August or February, our plan was always to re-open our home at some point. 

But I now know that fostering is H A R D. It's hard and slow and long work. As previously stated, it's worthwhile work. We also know that this does not guarantee us more permanent members in our family. And in the last month, I've had to work ( WORK ) to accept that the picture I had for my family may not ever come to fruition. While people try to assure me that if we are willing to take in children, surely God will give us more, it doesn't really give me any sort of reassurance. Adam has said the number of kids needing a family far outnumber the families willing to take them in. Which is probably true. But if this experience has taught me anything, it's that God's plans don't always line up with ours. 

But even if God doesn't bring us more kids, can I be fully satisfied in Him and live with joy in light of my salvation?

I've read the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego many times, but I've read it again recently. They stand before King Nebuchadnezzar refusing to bow down before his idol, and he makes it clear they are headed for the furnace. They quickly answer with confidence that their God is capable of delivering them from this furnace and from his hand, but they say even if He does not, they will not bow down, remaining steadfast in their devotion and worship to God alone.

I, too, know what my God is capable of, but even if He does not, I will not waiver in my devotion and worship of Him. And sometimes I can say that with confidence. And sometimes I'm asking the Holy Spirit to strengthen my inner being to be confident in that. I've been reading a lot of books on the character of God, and I am sure of this- my God is a good God, and His love for me has not wavered as I've struggled to accept this latest blow. 

God can grow our family, but even if not, my heart is His. My life is His. And I will continue to hope and praise Him yet more and more. My mouth will tell of His righteous acts. For their number is beyond my knowledge.