There's something I didn't tell you about that visit to my daughter's orphanage.
I told you about that second day, when I held her for three hours and she wouldn't let me put her down without screaming.
But I didn't tell you about when I left.
I knew she would cry when I put her down. So I figured, Okay, I'll hand her off to one of the other volunteers when I leave. She'll go from one attention-source to another, and that should pacify her.
But it didn't. The attention I had lavished on her for 24 hours must have made more of an impact than I thought. Because when I left, and passed her on to a volunteer, she didn't stop screaming.
She screamed and screamed and screamed....for me. And I turned my back on her and walked away.
And as I have waited for her....one week...two, three,...seven, I keep hearing her scream.
I have been reading this book these days, the one everyone is reading.
There's a reason I am not writing the story and God is. He knows how it all works out, where it all leads, what is all means.
I won't shield God from my anguish by claiming He's not involved in the ache of this world and Satan prowls but he's a lion on a leash and the God who governs all can be shouted at when I bruise, and I can cry and I can howl and He embraces the David-hearts who pound hard on His heart with their grief and I can moan deep that He did this--and He did.
All is grace only because all can transfigure.
(Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts)
Dear Amy H. up at Forever Angels is doing the best she can. The days when she tells me that she hopes it will be Today, those are actually the worst days. I check my phone every ten minutes to see if she has written; and as the day passes with No Word, the waiting suffocates my heart.
But I wait. And every day I want her more, and every day I must wait longer.
And learn. And trust. And grow. And remind myself that I don't want the change the ending, because God is writing the story.