I've got a confession to make. And I figure since my rant was public, I should make the confession public as well.
I lost faith.
I don't confess this with the positive note that I've found it again, but at least now that I acknowledge that it's lost I will be looking for it.
After last nights rant I wondered why I was boiling mad at my brother. And I realized that I wasn't any more frustrated with him than normal. So what has happened to reduce my ability to not be frustrated with him?
A lot. And the scales of my patience just tipped in the favor of impatience.
So, much like last night... there's some stuff inside that needs to be exposed. It might not be pretty, but it's going to come out.
My company is closing. I actually have a lot of faith about finding a new job. I believe, wholly, that God has His hand in this and will provide a new job. If it takes awhile, I can handle that as well. My entire world won't fall apart if I don't find a job for the next few months. My entire world wouldn't even shake. But then I realized something. Without being gainfully employed, my agency will remove my foster child from my home. I can handle being jobless, but I don't want her to have to handle another move.
So I began to do what normal people do.
I worried about her.
And then, after spending the last month sending up constant and very specific prayers for my temporary little girl I found out the odds were not stacked 50/50 but more like 99/1 against her. I became upset, worried about things like future adoptions, parental progress, and the hurts and fears this little one seemed 99% likely to go through.
So I did what normal people do.
I worried about her.
I'm pretty good about not worrying. I've gone through some interesting things with little more than several deep swallows and a thousand forceful reminders that God is in control. This time though was different. I simply swallowed and worried.
Let me tell you, it's exhausting.
The cost of foster parenting isn't in physical energy. That's nothing. It's in the emotional stomp your heart takes as details and information come pouring in about a small and precious bundle that has deserved nothing but goodness and love. You begin to see yourself as the protector. A staunch defender. You. Not God.
So, this morning in the fresh, slightly blinding light that I have been trying to worry my problems to a solution, I choose to stop. It won't be easy. I'll have reasons to worry. But I just have to go back to my previous tactics of swallowing hard, then telling myself God is in control and move on.
To do anything else, ultimately, says something altogether.
You see, not trusting God about my little one being taken away, says that I believe I love her and care about her not being hurt more than God does.
Not trusting God about her future, again, says that I think I know what is best for her and want that for her more than God does.
I'm going to learn a lesson about faith. GOD is in control. God IS in control. God is in CONTROL.
The waters are troubled. I can either read that two ways. I can be excited because a miracle is going to happen, or I can worry about a storm coming.
I'm tired of worrying.