Saturday, August 23, 2014

God-Sized Dreams: Cracked Wide Open

For days now the air has hung heavy in the midwestern sky, dripping daily with gray and rain.

My youngest son asks where the sun went and if that is it -- is summer over?

I assure him it wasn't even though I don't really know; it's only August, I reasoned. But really I only am following the patterns of seasons I've known for 31 years. I tell him we could pray we'll have more summer sun to soak up before autumn emerges.

The forecast doesn't agree. Rain and more rain on the horizon from now until as far as forecasts stretch.

We wake this morning to more of the same.

And it doesn't just sprinkle; it pours and it thunders and the whole day is lost to more of the same.

These days have been like a mirror of our adoption journey for the last week and day since our communication came to a screaming halt with the girl we already think of as daughter. She is silent with me day after day after day.

I am a broken record of reassuring love, and still she is silent with me.

I pray this evening --

as my little family curls up on the couch together to watch a movie

as a friend messages me that she has witnessed so many tiny miracles at the school where our kids all attend, whereour girl would attend if and when she comes home, that would make it possible for her to enter in smoothly, comfortably

-- I pray

that the clouds

the sky

the silence

her heart

that it all might just crack wide open, shine something glorious and beautiful. That there might still be something lovely left yet.

The light shifts in the corner of my eye, so drastically that I immediately rise from my seat and walk to the front door

to see it all cracked wide open -- glowing something beyond bold-beautiful.










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