I couldn't fix it

I think the hardest thing for me to accept in life is that there are things I simply can't fix.

Choices that others make that --agree or not-- I just don't get a vote on.

Hurts, struggles, grief that I see people walk through--and yet, there is nothing I can do to make it better.

As a "do-er" by nature, these things have always been hard for me to accept.

But last night? As my sweet baby boy told me he was sad, but didn't have the words to explain it in any greater detail?

That was the first point in my life, in which I would have moved Heaven and Earth to "fix it".

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I think so many times we do our very best to prepare for grief.

We see it in their coping mechanisms.

We acknowledge that it's the root cause of their behavioral issues.

Their sleep issues.

Their meltdowns.

We have tools to help our children regulate their emotions.

Tips and tricks to teach them new behavior patterns.

Entire libraries full of books to remind us that connection must be the foundation of correction.

And yet, at the end of the day?

Looking into eyes filled with sadness and words trapped behind a language barrier?

I didn't have any tools in mind. No tricks up my sleeve.

I just wanted to fix it.

And I couldn't.

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I can't change the fact that he misses people he loves dearly in Africa.

I can't remove the hurts and loss he's suffered. Some he may not even recall exactly, but he know's he's sad...

I can't tell him when or if it will all go away. That the pain and grief will magically disappear and all of the sudden, he'll be completely free of those early scars.

But I would.  If there was any way in this world that I could heal him, I would do it.

I think that's at the very core of the heart of a parent. And as I sit here swallowing down the lumps in my throat even just recalling the sadness in his eyes..I'm reminded that we are not his only "parents". He has a Heavenly Father who loves him with even more fierceness than I do.

He has a Father who IS capable of bringing his heart healing and filling voids that I simply can't fill.

He is a child of the Most High and his Father will move Heaven and Earth to bring him healing.

I am confident in this.

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And while I know that Marvel struggles between the joy, love and trust he is building with us and the sadness, grief and sorrow at what he's left behind, I am made more and more aware that healing isn't an overnight process.

That joy and grief aren't mutually exclusive.

That walking this path of healing isn't going to be an easy or short journey.

But that, through it all,  we can hold fast to these truths:

That "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up all their wounds" (Psalm 147:3)

That He promised he could give rest to all those who labor and are heavy laden. That if we would take His yoke upon us and learn from him, we would see that He is gently and lowly in heart and we would find rest for our souls. For His yoke is easy and his burden is light.  (Matthew 11:28-30)

That sorrow may last for the night...but joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30:5)


I don't know what the future will look like. I can make my sweet boy no guarantees about how he will feel in one year...Or 10...Or 20. 

But I can promise him, with every fiber of my being, that we will walk this path with him. That he is NEVER going to be alone. That it is ALWAYS okay to be sad or angry or happy. That how he feels is valid and that we are never going to leave. That we will be right there with him. In the times when he doesn't want to dig deep into the well of emotions. And in those times when he feels his loss the deepest.

And I can Guarantee to him that our God is faithful and has promised him healing and wholeness in ways we could never offer him.

I once heard it said that sorrow may last through the night, but joy WILL come in the morning. And that, if joy isn't there, then it isn't morning yet. 

Hold fast.

Because it WILL come.