Most of the time, stories are told in hindsight. They may not exactly be finished (And they lived happily ever after) but they certainly have closed a chapter, completed that trek, finished out that portion of the tale. We see it on television shows and movies. It stares us down in books and podcasts and even real-life accounts. If it’s being shared, it’s finished at least in some degree.
Sometimes, I chastise myself for not being farther along in this story of ours. I want to be the one telling the story from the other side. I want to be the one who has crossed over that proverbial line and have landed in the territory I’ve dreamed of arriving.
Whether or not it is actually the case, I feel left behind in some way. I mean, obviously the grass on the storyteller side of the line is greener, right? It just has to be more lush to the touch with the bare spots of this side eliminated with no trace of their existence. Yet, here I’m left wandering in this land of the story-in-the-making.
Not too long ago, I picked up a book at the library, A Treasury of Adoption Miracles by Karen Kingsbury. Every chapter a new, real-life adoption story is told. The themes of redemption, beauty from ashes and Divine set-up ring through every tale. I finish each one with tears in my eyes as the Holy Spirit nurtures this heart longing for the “end” of the story.
Often times I hesitate to post here. I frantically worry that each new post of “still waiting” will bore you, our tribe, and lessen the hype we feel in welcoming a new member of our family. Instead, I sit by the crib now set up in our bedroom and inwardly bear the weight of threadbare hope. I muster the courage each new day to say, “This could be it! But…probably not.” I fight through the longing to give in to the despair by counting my blessings; reminding myself these days of the Reads being a party of four will only be a few days more. Then I feel guilty for ever doubting…
Yet, lately, one theme has broken through this shroud I’ve built to try and protect my aching heart: God is the details – and the details write the story. No, this story isn’t over yet. It is still in-the-making. I don’t have the details of when and how and where and who…but I know my Jesus. He didn’t come only to surrender his life for you and I. He came to bring the fullness of the Kingdom of God to us mere mortals every day his feet touched this dust-riddled earth. We didn’t know the whole story, couldn’t see the proverbial line to be stepped across, yet He continued proclaiming it even while it was being written.
So I too, no matter how many posts have to be tagged with the theme “still waiting”, have determined to share even as the story unfolds. First because we aren’t the only ones waiting for something. We aren’t alone in the land of “wandering” as the story is still in-the-making. Even those who seem to have crossed over that proverbial line into greener pastures still end each chapter with an “and” as the story marches on. The new chapter immediately taking root, no time to glory in the “finality” of one portion because, if I’m honest, their story is still in-the-making too.
Second because God is the details, I want to keep a record of His faithfulness. I don’t want to forget a single one. The days I have sat next to an expectant crib in the same chair I nursed my babies into the wee hours of the morning with a book in my hand as the Holy Spirit soothed my worried heart need to be marked. They need recorded as I note His faithful attention. People – even you – may tire of this “still-in-the-writing” phase of such an elaborate plan. I don’t blame you. It’s hard to keep momentum when it seems no movement is occurring. But my Jesus, He sits with me here. He stokes the hair from my teary face confronting every concern with a promise: He is good at the details – even the ones that are hard to bear – and more than I can see are taking place.
So, no, this story isn’t finished. It isn’t tied with a bow and offered as a complete tale. This isn’t even an update of forward progress, per say. It’s yet again, another still-in-the-making, hold-onto-hope heart-to-heart. But the hope I have is rooted not in our agency, not in the words of others and certainly not in a broken system. It is solely rooted in my God who’s been faithful before, is faithful now and will be faithful again. It is grounded in the fact He’s good at the details. And the details write the story.