My job

Every single night. That's how often we remind God that we really freaking need Him to work out each of their futures. They fold their tiny, chubby hands and pretend to close their eyes, carefully watching to make sure mine stay shut. And we pray. 

We pray to the God who knit them into wombs already knowing that we would be here. That we would be in this place; this unnatural, response-to-tragedy place where none of us truly want to have to be. 

I can do my part. I can hold them close for this time and love them hard and petition God on their behalf until I am hoarse; but working out their futures is not and never will be a task He gives me. He has never, ever asked me to determine their future steps. 

He hasn't asked me to stay awake late into the night, filling pages with "best case scenarios" and "plans A, B, C, and D" to keep little, tiny humans in families until they grow up and create families of their own. He hasn't asked me to pour over scientific journals and anything else the internet has to offer about mentally ill mothers successfully raising their children. He hasn't asked me to analyze every interaction with birth moms and grandmas and women I walk past on the street who maybe, just maybe, could have a role in this child's life, long-term. 

It's simply not my job. 

My job, then? My job is to believe Him for them. To teach them, in this short time we have together, that our God is One to be trusted. What we do here, in this unconventional family--what we do here is trust God to love us like He says He loves us. It's how we keep walking, how we keep following when the path is too foggy for our purposefully untrained eyes to navigate. 

The same prayer every night, aloud, and then a few million groaned ones throughout the day. 

Jesus, remember us. Work it out. Continue to work it out for us. We trust You. You are the only One for this job. 

And then all together, we say amen. We give our affirmation. Let it be, Lord. And we thank Him. Asante Yesu. Thank you, Jesus. Not because we can see it but because we believe You. We believe You hear us and we believe You're mindful of us. And so we keep on trusting. 

Asante Yesu. Because we trust You are working and need not save our thank you's until we can see it crystal clear. 

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