Time

Time is a funny thing.  A simple concept, yet the depths surrounding time are impossible for me to clarify.  

When warm baby breath skated across my neck and the tiny heartbeat of my sleeping babies beat against my chest, I wanted time to stop. To stand still and let me live in that moment forever.  And yet it sped by, at warp-speed it seemed, leaving those moments as memories that came too soon. 

When my tush is aching and my patience is wearing dangerously thin during staff meetings or the inevitable doctor’s office waits, I beg for time to speed up.  I wish to hit the fast-forward button, jumping to the ending so I can get to the place I actually want to be. That is when time drags itself into sloth mode, amplifying minutes into what feels like eternity. 

Swimming in the perfect teal waters of the Bahamas, summers with my grandma in Michigan, hearing tiny feet padding down the hall to my bedroom each morning, hand in hand strolling flower lined paths in Grand Rapids…this is time I want back.  Moments where happiness swelled in me and I ache for that time again. 

It’s impossible for me to get a handle on time.  I forget to notice time and it slips right past me, leaving behind a trail of memories that piece together this life.  I’ve wished time away, begged it to slow, anticipated the future, reminisced about time past, tried with every ounce of my heart to be present and hold on to each moment, and I’ve failed at times, letting it pull me along, later regretting what I missed.  

Days are fueled by time.  Schedules, appointments, time for naps, alarms set (snooze pushed), first days and lasts, countdown to Christmas, birthdays and vacations. Conversations point in the direction of times to come or time past.  How have you been? What have you been up to? When do you head to college? How long until summer break? How long have you been dating? When are you getting married? Are you having kids soon? How long is treatment? How much time is left? 

Time.  

It was my biggest fear when deciding to hit the publish button on this blog.  Once we shared our plan, I knew that the next thing to discuss was WHEN? And though it’s a logical question, one I’ve been asking myself in fact, but my answer is a lot like all my answers in this journey.  

I don’t know. 

What I’m starting to understand is that it is okay not to know.  It’s not my plan and therefore it’s not my timing.  

I’ve heard it said, and tend to believe, that if you wait for the right time to do something, that time will never come.  The problem with this line of thinking is that the right time is qualified by our own perceptions of what makes the time right, not God’s.  

“When the time is right, I, the Lord will make it happen.” -Isaiah 60:22

What I do know for sure though, is that God cannot lead our footsteps if we are standing still.  So we are taking steps, making strides, moving forward and waiting for the time when God says, “Go”.  I think transparency is important as we share this process because there will be moments that seem slow. 

Real, not at all exciting moments.  Our time of waiting, praying, preparing, and listening.  

Several months ago we began to save because an adoption like this is financially overwhelming to even think about.  Every month a non-negotiable deposit is made into our adoption fund. It’s the most emotional savings account I’ve ever opened. 

I took a leave of absence, first, to spend as much time as I can soaking up every moment of my children’s youth and second, because this will be a necessary way of life when we bring home our child with special needs.  

We’ve restructured our budget and with some guidance from Dave Ramsey, we’re learning to live, in a way we can feel comfortable with, on one income.  D and I have sat, hours in conversation, setting goals, moving forward one step at a time, together. Each step we’ve taken has been swirled up in a mess of fear and hope and faith. 

Without getting too personal into our finances, we’ve checked some big things off the list, and after we take a moment to recuperate, our next step is finishing the last room in the basement.  We bought a small house on purpose. I lived a previous life in a big sprawling house. But brokenness also lived there. Those rooms, that big space, it lent itself well to avoidance, seclusion, hiding, and distance.  When D and I picked this house, I wanted cozy, a place where regardless of the day, the troubles, or the circumstances, we would live through it face to face, together. Logistically, we just haven’t the space for another family member.  

Yet. 

This time right now is such an emotional contradiction for me.  I want to move, to act now. I want to run heart first across the world and pour my love into a child.  And yet, I want to breathe in these extraordinary moments of wonder with my little one. I want stand a while with my son in this transition to adolescence and notice every little way he’s turning into an exceptional young man.  I want to stay and I want to go.  

Only God knows what is right, and that’s where I find my calm in this storm of emotions.  I don’t have to decide what’s right. He’s already done it for me.  

I just have to wait, and follow.