Resolution: Furious Hope

 "The desires of your heart."

What does that phrase bring to mind?  Maybe a certain long-term goal: A specific profession, satisfying marriage, home ownership, flourishing children.  A deep-seated longing that feels tied to your very soul.

Also, according to the Psalms, desires are something granted by God if one delights and trusts in Him.

These are the kind of verses that can unknowingly be wielded as a weapon by Bible people.  The kind of verses that can be used to cast fault upon the unfulfilled or waiting.  The kind of verses that can be used as proof that God is on your side when said desire falls easily into place.  When said desire comes home from the hospital with you, instead of literally dying inside of your body.

Yeah, there's a rough history with that particular word.  And all its spiritual implications.  Because when you grow up believing you were created (by a Creator) in a unique way, specifically designed with talents and hopes and ambitions bestowed on you alone, but your years of "trusting and delighting" don't result in a culmination of these "God-given" hopes (i.e. A completed adoption or at-home sibling for your son) it can break your brain.  Or your spirit.  The "performance driven" aspect of this desire-fulfillment equation seems to indicate that the blame has to fall somewhere.

So when my precious counselor referenced "the word" in a recent tele-thereapy appointment, I had an explosive verbal response.  During her time in college, my PC received (what she called) a clear revelation concerning her future.  However, it was nearly 20 years before this God promise came to pass in her life.  Obviously, the wait was excruciating.  Which led to this unfortunate exchange-

PC:  I would wake up in agony.  I decided to pray that God would take away my desire, so I wouldn't be in pain and discontent day after day.  What do you think about that idea, Laura?  Praying for God to take away your desire?

Me:  Um, I've already given a lot to God.  First, the desire for another biological child through fertility treatments.  Then, our terminated Ethiopian adoption.  Then, our desire to be quickly matched with a child in India, after finding out we were unexpectedly pregnant.  And, when we were fully excited and clinging to the desire of bringing Margot home, she died.  My desire for Elijah to have a sibling through adoption isn't a nebulous idea; we are matched.  My desire is an actual person named Wren and to ask for that desire to be removed would be like saying I'm giving up on her.  So no, I'm not doing that.

PC:  You know what I hear in your words?

Me:  ...Anger?

PC:  Hope.

Anger gets a bad rap in the world of emotions, but grief has taught me how essential it is.  Sadness is passive; Anger is active.  Angry people get crap done.  Anger is a good human compass to point you towards your deepest hopes.  Because often they stand in direct conflict with your deepest hates. And I don't mean, "I HATE carrots because they are a garbage vegetable resembling fingers that -when chewed- taste like moist sawdust."  (Although, those statements ARE true. #cancelcarrots)  I'm talking about what breaks your heart.  The Mamas who mobilized in George Floyd's honor because every.single.child deserves protection and justice.  Jesus flipping aside tables of religious profiteers who stood in the way of temple worship.  A group of Mennonites, so upset by severe practices used in the mental health field, that they started a facility in 1949 with a "vision of care for those with mental illness based on the theology of healing." (PS That facility is still around and flourishing; My Dad is CEO. I'm a teensy bit proud.) Yes, anger can be destructive. But sometimes you need to throw open the windows of smoldering bias and archaic ideals. Exposing these harmless looking embers to pure oxygen WILL ignite issues, allowing the fire of fresh perspective to burn their rickety structures to the ground. Because then -ONLY then- is there room to construct a new and better foundation. To build atop the ashes of what never served us well.

Much has taken place since I began writing this blog. Our adoption has taken some long-awaited strides forward in India, while democracy in America has regressed into further division and conflict. The tentative hope we carry for our family's future is tempered by the volatile national landscape here and by our personal history of loss. The sense of relief I felt upon reaching the third trimester with Margot looms large, casting the darkest shadow over any celebratory urges for Wren. I confess-texted this to my girls; Tricia wisely responded, "Having hope is scary....you make yourself vulnerable to the possibility of loss again. It's really hard to do...and won't change overnight, probably not even after Wren comes home. Allow yourself to enjoy small moments of hopefulness, and be gentle with yourself when you sink back into anxiety and fear, knowing that it's natural for what you've gone through." 

I am angry and scared and grieving, but I am also hopeful and excited and grateful. These things don't cancel each other out. The fervor -my intense devotion- for adoption, for bringing my older daughter home, is a sacred part of my makeup. This desire IS me, distinct as a fingerprint and as intimate as giving birth. And you better believe that I won't give it up without one hell of a fight.