Looking for God

I wake up this morning with a stomach bug so bad I can’t even straighten, after spending most of the night awake, in tears, and, I’m loathe to admit it, utterly despairing.  This is coming on the tail of a nasty virus I’ve had for days, my boys being away at camp, and my mom far away when I so desperately need her.  Despite all my calls to lawyers and caseworkers they plan to come and take away our little Meggie on Wednesday, and not to a better future, but to put her in a different foster home in a different state, to be a victim of the system.   Such a beautiful happy baby, who smiles in her sleep every time I go in to check on her, almost as if she senses me standing there, who belly laughs when her sisters play peek-a-boo with her, and who is thriving and well adjusted. And I cry out to God, “How much do you think I can take?  Are you even paying attention here!?” And I wonder, “Is this how Job felt?”  And I ask, “God, where are you in all of this?”

Then, I pick up baby Jenn and she gurgles with joy.  I help her with her physical therapy, and she’s able to reach her toes -a breakthrough for her- and my broken heart catches a glimpse God.  My toddler, with her frizzy blond hair all fly away and sleepy morning eyes looks at me beseechingly, puts her little arms tightly around my neck, and asks, “Mommy, why you sad?” And there I see God.  My five year old gazes in wonder at the much needed rain falling outside the window, and gasps in delight at the lightning and thunder.  And God is there.

I open my inbox, the same one that so callously delivered such devastating news on Tuesday.  But, today there is an e-mail from my little sister, the one who was such a handful in highschool that my parents kept threatening her with being homeschooled by me.  This is the sister who has been my rock for the last five months of raising two babies, who, along with her husband, has been here with me every day this week, who has carried Meggie around in her arms and cried just as I have.  She offers me verses and encouragement and ends by saying, “If you need anything at all, I am a phone call and 25 minutes away. Anytime and all the time.”  And, once again, God is there.

I see the messages piled up from friends and family who are praying for us.  Prayers that I count on in times of doubt and despair. Because, knowing that someone is praying for me when I can’t muster up the words, well, God is definitely there.

Then, I hear a little voice from the next room, a call I’ve been waiting for.  I go in to get Meggie, our late riser, my eyes so blurry that I can barely see her enormous smile of welcome, but I feel it in her joyful wriggles and in her little head nuzzling into my neck and I know, once again, that God is there.

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