Today another impossible miracle happened to bring us home in time for Christmas and another door slammed shut hours later.
And as I was beginning to question again, He whispered, “Is my hand too short, that it cannot redeem? Or have I no power to deliver?”
How easily I forget that these doors are easy for Him to open and therefore it is only with His loving intention that they can remain closed. Today, they are closed, so we played, we swam, we bought treats for friends in America who are missing this country. And I took a moment to remember.
It’s December 20th and Uganda is hot and sticky. Diesel fuel and burning trash fogs the air and Christmas seems a world away.
A friend emailed this week to remind me that perhaps Christmas has never been nearer than it is to me this year. Christmas is about meekness, she wrote, and when you’re close to your weakness, you’re closer to God’s heart than you know. And she’s right. Christmas is the season when we remember how God became as weak as a baby so that our own weakness wouldn’t separate us from His family.
The past three months have been a weak season for me. Single parenting is rough and every inch of this adoption has felt like an uphill climb – not because of anything specific, but doing anything in a foreign culture is just frustrating. They work very differently here and sometimes submitting to their process means I experience just how impatient and selfish and irritable I can be. I’m weak. My kids yell mommy look at me every 10 minutes and it annoys me sometimes. I’m weak. Photos of Starbucks cups and Christmas trees flash across my Instagram feed and my heart stirs with discontentment. I’m weak. My oven doesn’t have a thermometer and sometimes dinner burns and I feed my kids rice again. I feel weak.
But what did He say, Is my hand too short to redeem? When weakness threatens to overwhelm me, my hope is in His decision to become a weak baby to redeem and ensure that even my ugliest moments seed something beautiful in me and those around me. Weakness creates space to hope and hope makes us strong – not in ourselves, but in a Father who calls Himself the God of Hope.
Today the door to a Christmas at home is closed…and if it’s still closed on Christmas Eve, we will settle into an African Christmas with absolute certainty that here is His best for us for the next few weeks. But until then, our bags are packed and we continue to hope. Because this is a season when the whole world remembers to hope. We lose nothing by hoping if our expectation is that His answer will be good.
In case you’re feeling weak this season
or just struggling inside of a hope that seems impossible,
I took some of my friend Courtney’s words and made them into a printable -
free for you here.