Last weekend Andrew and I decided to fly (standby) up to the Tetons for a getaway. I’m sure we aren’t alone in the fact that 2020 has been a doozy. Our primary income coming from an airline, coupled with Esme’s adoption has brought untold stress on our family. We both feel closest to God in nature, and what better way to rejuvenate than to go to the mountains?
We arrived on a Friday night to realize we were in for Jackson’s first winter storm of the season. Enamored by the snow and hot chocolate, we went to bed excited to wake up and see the mountains the next day. But when we awoke, no mountains. Just storm, fog, and more snow.
We drove out of the city and into the national park. “God please, just one glimpse? One glimpse of the beauty and majesty of the mountains?”
But alas, no mountains. For comparison, these two photos were taken in the same location. In our photo, we were standing on top of the dam, looking out towards the mountains.
My point being, we couldn’t see the mountain. We were disappointed. But we could FEEL the mountain.
We could feel the effects of the wind whipping through the valley as it descended from the peaks above. We could see the snow as it was billowing around us and watch as the grey mountain fog loomed above. We could feel the mountain. Just because we couldn’t see it, didn’t mean it wasn’t there, just as large and beautiful and magnificent as it ever was.
Today we received even more hard news regarding travel timelines. Barring a miracle, it will be even longer until we hold our girl in our arms. It is a bitter pill to swallow. And with all the ugliness and fighting and unfairness of the world right now, it’s hard to see God. I had a good cry and then sat down to acknowledge the grief of this moment. But after sitting with that pain, I asked myself, “What do I know to be true about God?”
I know that He is working. In the storm, when I can’t see Him clearly, He is still there just as beautiful and magnificent and strong as ever. He can calm the waves, and move the mountain, and bring our girl home to us. And if not, He is still good. He is still loving. He is there.
Just like I felt the mountain looming high above me in Wyoming, I feel God’s presence now. I feel pain. I feel coldness and isolation, just like that day in Wyoming. But I also feel the awe of His greatness and am able to rest in the stillness of that.
Adoption is the hardest road I’ve ever walked. It’s the first time I’ve hit barriers I couldn’t work my way out of. It’s the first time I coudn’t just put my head down and work the problem. And maybe there is a beauty in that. When Esme does come home, we’ll know it was by God’s hand alone.
So we praise Him now. For the good work He will do. For the work He will complete. For our family He will redeem. For her heart He will mend. For the brokenness He will bring to beauty. We praise Him, even when we don’t see His plans, knowing His ways are higher and the story He is writing is one more beautiful than we could ever imagine.
Ephesians 3: 17-21