When the Future Looks Like Loss

I didn’t want the new year to come.

Everyone seemed to be ready for a fresh start, or minimally to put a little more distance between us and that blight of our existence, the year 2020.

In fact, when Betty White passed just shy of her 100th birthday, Glennon Doyle posted on IG, “Maybe Betty just didn’t want us to be mad at 2022.”

But I already was.

I could feel my feet desperately skidding against the paper of my calendar, looking for a toe hold, as the whimsy of Christmas gave way to the final week before January. If I could just strong arm December into staying awhile- maybe back it into a corner and detain it just a bit longer.

Because January looked cruel to me- it didn’t look like the start of all things fresh and new- it looked like the beginning of loss.

We’ve been in a holding pattern, waiting for our foster child to reunite with family. We are so happy to support her family in this process- so grateful for the promise of an ongoing relationship. But we’ve known for about a year that our hearts would eventually need to let go of a child that we’ve come to love quite dearly.

Our souls can hold two opposite emotions at once, it turns out. A joy at a child’s hopeful reunification and a deep grief over the loss that creates space for that joy.

But my soul doesn’t yet have a compass to guide me through that twisted valley of grief. I flip through my 2022 planner as though I’m staring at a forest so dense and viny that I can’t even see a path, let alone an exit.

Maybe you can relate.

I like to think my struggles are unique sometimes, because it definitely adds pizzazz to my pity party. But the truth is that probably most of us are anticipating some kind of loss ahead, or experiencing a loss in the presnt.

-a parent who is chronically sick and seems so frail that you don’t know what any day may bring
-a job that you barely seem to be holding onto
-that child that is graduating or leaving home, leaving your hands and heart strangely empty
-someone you love that recently passed, leaving the wind knocked out of you and the world turned crooked
-a relationship that has been slowly deteriorating, and you fear the anger and grief of abandonment
-a child whose mental or physical health leaves you daily wondering where hope has gone

I don’t know all your stories. But if you’re anything like me, I know you’ve been looking for answers. With every meeting or email about our foster case, I pray that God will give me a timeline. I pray that God will give me clarity. I ask that God will show me WHAT the hell the purpose of this season is, please and thank you.

And although I’ve heard God speak more clearly in the past, lately I’m not getting much at all. There’s no burning bush sending me to Egypt- no angelic announcement of my future- not even a talking donkey to steer me in the right direction. (I’m pretty flexible about the messenger at this point.)

And it kills me a little. Because waiting for something GOOD is hard, but waiting on something painful is excruciating.

People say that God is a God of miracles, and to hold on for His promise- But I’ll tell you right now that there is no outcome in a long-term foster situation that feels “miraculous”. Deep in my Spirit I know that there is NO way for this story to end without a devastating heartache for someone.

My soul resonates so much with the idea that the Spirit must intercede for me with groans words cannot express, because I’ve run out of words, run out of bold prayers because none of them seem right.

I have few requests, but an endless supply of questions.

God’s answer to my child-like nagging of “when?”, “how?” and “why?” is simply: WITH. He will be WITH me in the fire. He will not leave me bereft. As He was with Moses in his wandering with the Israelites, the Lord will be WITH me my own wilderness.

It is here in the darkness of the twisted path that I stop trusting my own feet and reach out to find that Jesus’ leathery, strong hand is right there waiting for me. And He reminds me that He has indeed walked this path before, on His way to the cross, so He will lead me with sure feet. And His Spirit gently whispers that there’s a joy set before me, too, even if I cannot see it yet.

The wait for me keeps getting pushed back, and I admit that sometimes God’s promised joy feels fake and fragile. There are days when I literally lay on the floor and cry because I’m just so weary, and I’m just so done. There are days I feel so faithless because my praise falls short and my eyes only see pain.

But I have to believe that WITH is the best answer I could hold onto this year, or any other. Each season brings new joys and pain, but God is unchanging and He will not leave us alone. I can’t help it- I’ll probably never stop praying for answers- but I ALSO pray that we would not miss God’s intense presence in the greatest unknowns of our lives.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. -2 Corinthians 4:16-18

What are you waiting on this year? Are you anticipating loss as well or something hopeful? How can I be praying for you in your journey?