This is a long story, hence the "Part 1." It's basically the story of the first few months that Liz came home (which is a big gap in this blog!), but it's also an ongoing story. I mean, it's really the story of my life, in that verse right there, which tends to come to the fore from time to time.
But every story has to start to be told, so here's the start of it...
When we got home with Liz, I remember telling people at church how everything was going amazingly well, considering all that could go wrong. And it really was--Liz had already bonded well with us, the kids were doing great with her, and her development was so much farther along that we expected. I know so many people prayed for us and for Liz, and all those prayers were answered.
I think by the end of the first month home, the glow had worn off and I was beginning to feel pretty overwhelmed. Looking back, I can definitely see some of the mistakes I made in terms of how I spent my time (or didn't spend my time). I think a lot of people would agree with me that the transition from two to three kids is hard, and I jumped in with the whole international adoption thing too.
Here's the thing...it wasn't that bad. In the grand scheme of things, I would step back and think, "things could be so much worse." And in that perspective, I felt like I was really failing, because if I was so overwhelmed and struggling with such an 'easy' adoption, what would it be like if we'd had a really hard one?
I wondered if maybe God gave me a simple adoption because he knew I wouldn't be able to handle anything more complicated. I wanted to feel like I could walk on water, but instead I felt like I was drowning and there was no strength to pull me up.
And I wanted it all fixed. I wanted the second half of that verse up there. I wanted God to do His thing, give me the joy, make it all better. After all, that was the deal. We do this crazy thing, and God gives us the strength to deal with everything that goes down.
Of course, I kind of ignored the first part of the verse...