The Urge to Run

The blog post I linked to yesterday talked about the irrational, powerful urge to run that parents get at some point(s) in the adoption journey. I would guess that all parents, especially new ones, have a moment of sheer panic in the first few days or weeks of their parenthood, whether it is a biological parenthood or not. A moment in which phrases like “what the bleep was I thinking, having a kid??” and “I can’t do this!!” echo around the room, perhaps accompanied by weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Becoming a parent means suddenly accepting responsibility for the life, welfare, and happiness of another human being. That, in itself, is overwhelming, especially since most of us aren’t always 100% competent when it comes to being responsible for our own lives, much less our own welfare and happiness. And then you add in the fact that this tiny person is a complete stranger (whether he or she shares your DNA or not), and the prospect is wildly overwhelming.

The idea that any sane human being would volunteer for this kind of responsibility is simply ridiculous, and I can picture God giggling to Himself, inventing sex as the divine hoodwink that makes humans parents. Oxytocin has a lot to answer for.

The difficult thing about adoption and foster care in this whole situation is that you do have the option of saying no. A mom with a newborn can cry and flail and scream at God that He should have made this whole thing easier, but she will have a tough time handing the child back to the hospital and saying “sorry, I changed my mind.” [It happens, though it is not the norm.] With adoption and foster care, on the other hand, there are a hundred opportunities to say no, to run.

I made it three days into my recent respite stint before sending a frantic email to my mom that I was crazy to think I could ever adopt and I wasn’t doing it ever ever ever. I made it about three minutes after handing her back to her family before I prayed, “okay fine, Lord, I’ll do it.” Clearly, it's not an accident that I’m studying the book of Jonah in my seminary course this semester. =)

The urge to run is strong. It is especially strong when you have been, as I have been, single and blissfully independent for a long time. There is no pregnancy to break me in to increasing levels of discomfort. There is just me, single and in apparent control of my time, energy, and resources one minute, and then me, a mom, in the next. The pull of personal comfort is so incredibly strong sometimes, I can hardly describe it. And taking care of children, particularly if they are wounded children, is unbelievably taxing. I have never in my life been as exhausted as I was during those nine days of respite.

But.

Jesus doesn’t call us to calmly set aside our old life and follow Him. He says we are to die to it. And dying, for Him at least, was incredibly painful, desperately uncomfortable, and definitely exhausting. He prayed, with an earnestness that wrung blood from His pores, to be spared what God had commanded Him to do. But because God willed it, He obeyed.

Those nine days of respite taught me a year’s worth of wisdom. And I firmly believe that much of it was hard because of God’s grace. He knows the way my heart is wired—He’s the one who wired it. He knew it would take a massive, repetitive, brutal bludgeoning from Him before I said no to keeping that little girl. I am hopeless at saying no to helping wounded children. He knows this, and so every step of the way He made His will clear to me, even though making it clear meant exhausting me and filling me with despair. I am grateful for His forcefulness, and see infinite mercy in what seemed at the time like brutality. And I am confident that the family she has now is the family He ordained for her.

In a chapel talk during my first week of seminary, Dr. Donald Campbell advised, “Do not doubt in the dark what God has revealed to you in the light.” I am a slow learner in matters of faith (remember I spent 15 years as a stiff-necked atheist), but I have learned the truth of that statement again and again. God called me to adoption as clearly as if He had stepped in front of my car on the freeway and handed me an engraved plaque of instructions. He has woven my entire life to prepare me for that calling, and He has trained me for its challenges in ways I could never have imagined clearly enough to even wish for. He has orchestrated the timing in ways that made me first furious, next baffled, and finally, infinitely grateful. This God of ours knows what He is doing.

He does not call us to what is easy, what is comfortable, what fits neatly into our spare half hour every week. This God calls us to die. And He obeyed that calling first, to show us the way.

I don’t know exactly what lies ahead. I do know that the bits and pieces I can catch a glimpse of leave me breathless with excitement. I know that, if I am faithful, He will sustain me with the infinite power of His Holy Spirit. And I know that I have never once regretted following His will rather than my own desires.