Trust
This boy… this boy
who I've written about, the one you've prayed for, and how our hearts
entangle and he is mine even though he isn't… he's lost in the world about now,
in need of a set of arms to claim him, a name on a case load, a blond-haired
kid in a sea of them. And I am on the
other side of a state line, arms opened and screaming to be heard, fighting for
this child who everyone's forgotten to fight for.
I have left messages and scrawled out frantic e-mails, I
have come farther by the grace of God in this man-hunt…this teenage-boy-hunt…
than I thought I would. I have names, I
have phone numbers, I have laws and code numbers and certifications to back my fight, and I am
ready for battle.
But now, Friday afternoon and the sun going dark in his time
zone, there is nothing to do but wait.
And trust.
Because it is not my battle.
It is His.
Because no one fights for the blond-haired boy like the one
who he belongs to -- The Daddy that does not die and does not leave and does
not kick him to the curb.
And I wonder.
If this is a culmination of everything that hasn't made
sense for all these years. If God has
been prepping me for such a time as this.
I do not fight with swords, I fight with words and research
and a love that's stronger than state lines.
I fight for love with love.
And I see the swirl of this whole wide life and all the
rusty weapons I've collected without even meaning to, the way He equips. The way He is orchestrating this. The way He makes me trust in the darkest middle
of uncertainty, and the way I can, which surprises me. The way having
no control at all will make you trust in ways you never thought you could.
I fight for love with love.
-- linking to Gypsy Mama's Five-Minute Friday, on the topicof trust.
Pray with me, please, for my boy, for the one whom I'm
trusting God to provide for, for the one I'm fighting the system to reunite
with, for the one I'm asking God for the privilege to care for again. Pray that He is in the right hands, that this
all unfolds the best way.
