A still, small voice

She stopped running a year ago. She's walking now. It's not a brisk walk. It is a walk where each step is painfully slow. It's as if she is barely moving at all. Her body is weak. Her spirit is weary. Her hope is tiny. 

The journey has drained every ounce of energy from her body. 

She attempts to take another step... but as her foot touches the ground, her fragile body collapses underneath her. She is too weak to carry on. 

She lays there. 

Helpless. 

Hopeless. 

She is too weak and weary to continue the journey. Silence surrounds her. 

Last week our agency sent us an email describing their financial difficulties keeping the Ethiopia program open. They have set a massive fundraising goal for the program and we are having a conference call later today. Ethiopia is becoming increasingly difficult (and almost impossible) to adopt from. The reasons behind this are too much to mention here. Our agency, and most all agencies, are struggling to keep programs alive. 

Doubt has gripped me all week long. To say that I have been emotional would be an understatement (my husband says "Amen"). 

Yesterday was particularly heavy. 

Heavy.

I was so tired. My prayers are not something I am necessarily proud of. I basically begged God to let us stop. I asked Him to let us change courses. The journey is becoming increasingly difficult to finish. 

Here was my prayer journal from yesterday morning. 

"Let me find peace, joy and rest in you. I think my doubt stems from a few places - would You be so kind as to shed light in these areas? 

1) Did we hear you wrong about Ethiopia? It is hard to be confident about the call to adopt from ET when so many other people have felt confident in their call to adopt from there and the doors have been closed on them. 

How are we any different?

Are we any different? 

How can I pray with confidence for this journey to be completed? 

2) has the plan changed? 

Was this a journey to open our eyes to many other things? I know we are different people because of this journey. I thank you for that. 

3) should we give up now? Are you changing our direction or should we continue on our way to Ethiopia? 

My day went on. 

I spent some time talking with friends and Lee about the situation. Sweet Lee is just full of faith and I am simply not. God knew what He was doing when He partnered us together. 

Our family loaded up to head to church last night. As we were pulling out of the driveway I told Lee to stop and check the mail. He pulled out a package that I wasn't expecting. 

I opened it up and a pair of my gym shorts fell out that my friend had borrowed a few weeks back. 

A check also fell out. 

Addressed to me. 

Did she owe me money for something? 

No. Especially not such a generous amount of money! 

Did she send this for our project 30 fundraiser? Maybe? 

No. The check was dated for July 28. 

Weird.

I texted her asking what that check was for?? 

Her reply was simple, but profound. 

"Bring our sweet boy home." 

Tears streamed from my eyes. 

She is still laying on the ground. She is too exhausted to move and too broken to even attempt. 

The wind begins to blow. 

It is a light breeze that she barely even notices at first. 

But as she tunes her ear to listen... She hears a whisper. 

A still, small voice.

A voice that says, 

"My girl... Don't you stop now. Keep going. Rise to your feet. Keep walking. It is just ahead. I hear you. I see you. I knew you would fall down today. In fact, I prepared for this fall on July 28." 

Do not quit.