Do you hear what I hear?

I have this friend. She's amazing...so compassionate, generous, wise, etc. The kind of friend you know without a doubt will be there for you in a pinch, no matter what kind of mess you've gotten yourself into. The kind of friend everyone should have.

The only problem is, she calls me at the most inconvenient moments. I feel horrible, but I'm always having to come up with excuses. "I'll call you back," "I already have plans," "I'm running late, gotta go!" To make matters worse, whenever we do actually have a conversation, I hang up realizing that all I did was tell her about my problems, my needs, my concerns, me, me, me. You get the picture.

Maybe I talk about myself so much because when I don't, the conversation feels so awkward. She's one of those people who doesn't mind letting the quiet moments stretch. I sit there listening to the silence and I don't know what to do with myself. The longer she goes without saying anything, the more I inwardly cringe. The suspense is worse than the final act of a Bourne film. So I let my mind wander...or I turn into a chatterbox.

By now you probably know who I'm talking about, and it isn't really a girlfriend. I'm writing this post in the aftermath of yet another "me myself and I" prayer time, in which I threw my requests at God as if He were a waiter jotting down orders.

Why is it so hard to "listen" to God? I know He's not silent. All I have to do is look around at nature or open my Bible to know that. But I also know that it's hard to hear Him when I'm running around like a schizophrenic chicken trying to do...well, everything. I mean, who else is going to do the dishes, cook the meals, wash the clothes, teach the kids, listen to the husband, counsel the friend, move the furniture, buy the groceries, pay the bills, fill up the gas tank, do the Bible study homework, change the Facebook status, send the text messages, take the bath, read the novel, update the scrapbook, bake the cookies, change the blog background, research the baby names, play the Webkinz games, watch the shows, check the forecast, eat the chocolate, and solve all the world's problems?

I've forgotten how to be still, that's the issue. The other day my four-year-old son was trying to tell me something while I was typing an email. "Yeah...uh-huh...that's good, buddy," I mumbled without listening to a word he'd said. Suddenly I felt his sticky little fingers on my cheeks, and with alarming strength he forced my face away from the screen. With his big blue eyes only inches from mine, he pleaded, "Mommy, I neeeeeeed to tell you something."

And I neeeeeeeed to listen. To my son, yes, but much more so to God. Earlier this month my friend Allie gave me the book Sacred Waiting by David Timms. I'm only two chapters into it, and I've already had several "ouch, that's a little too close to home" moments. Here's one of them:

In the mist of our mad scramble--what we bravely but vainly call the "good life"--we find ourselves harboring deep-seated impatience with God. We have little time to nurture a relationship with Him and generally feel that He should run at least as fast as we do. If we have a problem right now, then right now would be a good time for the Lord to step in and deal with it. We squeeze in a quick prayer request while changing lanes in rush-hour traffic and expect the Lord to fire back a quick answer, preferably a positive one. All the while we're rushing Him and rushing past Him.

How much guidance and wisdom have I forfeited by trying to rush through the last 21 months of waiting for our adoption? I've been so busy figuring out what to do - how to make the time productive, how to keep my mind busy, how to hold onto my sanity - that I've neglected the most important thing. I've been Martha when I should have been Mary, choosing the "better part" of sitting at His feet to - you guessed it - LISTEN.

The Rwandan adoption community is tight, and I love that. Just knowing my Rwanda Mamas are always standing by to encourage me is like carrying around a big hug in my pocket, ready to grab onto whenever I need it. It's so much easier to jump online or grab the phone and seek their comfort, advice, or companionship than to carve out some time to have a conversation with my Best Friend, who is the type that doesn't mind letting the quiet moments stretch.

Nevertheless, in His presence is where I know I'll find daily bread, living water, and rest for my soul. Not to mention the guidance and wisdom I so desperately need. If I can only learn to listen.

Re-entering the blogosphere

I haven't written much on this blog for the past several months, mostly because I haven't known what to say. Last fall I was in a dark place, logging more hours in "the pit" than I care to remember. Since that time my heart has navigated the changing tides of surrender, hope, frustration, cynicism, compassion, excitement, gratitude, disillusionment, peace, and longing. No, I'm not a mental case. I'm a waiting mom.

The details of our adoption haven't changed much. We're still waiting for our approval (DTR 14 months on Valentine's Day), though we now have hope that it could arrive very soon! In early January we updated our home study and jumped the hurdles required for new USCIS paperwork. Tomorrow Tim and I will be getting our vaccinations for eventually traveling to Rwanda, and then, once our extended I-171H arrives, we'll be good to go for another year.

I'm not sure what to tell you about my blogosphere hibernation this winter. The details above tell you a little about what I did, but not about what happened. That vital part of the story is internal, and I haven't sorted it all out yet, at least not enough to share on this blog. I can tell you that God's ways are not only higher than mine, they're galaxies upon galaxies removed from my pitiful, short-sighted schemes. The past three months have taught me a lot about His bigness. (I don't like the sound of that word, but it's the only one that seems to fit.)

When we began this journey, I thought it was about a child. Or maybe about a child and the portrait adoption paints of God's grace to us through Jesus. But lately I've realized that's only scratching the surface. God is up to something much bigger than us, and much bigger than a poignant analogy. He's after eternal, worldwide, revolutionary change. He's after glory.

But that is yet another topic for another time. For now I just want to say hello, I'm back, and thanks for not un-following me this winter! :)