His Greater Will

Dearest friends and encouragers, the time has come to begin sharing our adoption journey.  Not "the time has come" like I finally feel "ready" or November 8 was the day I circled on my calendar long ago to start writing.  Nope, I just have time this week.  The home study is done.  The profile book is done.  The baby's room is... a work in progress, and I need a break from manual labor.  And I have been aching to share the process with those who want to hear about it in greater detail than the occasional, vague Facebook status update that makes little to no sense to someone who hasn't gone through the process.  So I hope (emphasis on "hope") to write regularly to talk about the joys, challenges, and craziness of our journey, what led us to adoption, and yes, the Green Bay Packers.  Would you expect anything less?

But for tonight, I just want to talk about the phrase "Not my will, but yours be done." At a very early age, I was taught to close my prayers with this statement.  And for most of my life, I hardly gave the words a second thought.  My fickle, human will changed so much from day to day that I hardly recognized the hand of God, guiding me along the course He knew for me before eternity.  But what a relief that His will won out... my will was all over the place.

For example, if "my will" of 1991 had been done, I'm pretty sure I would a children's author, a bakery owner, a wedding gown designer, and an architect, owning a labrador retriever in every color, a hotel chain, a house in the mountains, a house on the ocean, and a house in the woods.  And no, not "write a couple books and then design gowns for a few years before settling into architecture as a second career."  Nope.  All of it at once... that was the dream.  The 8-year-old dream.

My "will" of 2001 was quite different.  The older I got, the more short-sighted I became.  My dreams were day-to-day: ace a test, get picked for Project Timothy, find a great roommate for next year at college.  The farthest ahead my 18-year-old will stretched was to "someday" open the first Lutheran convent.  Looking back, I think it's fairly safe to say that was more of a defense mechanism (my high school experience was pretty dry in the dating department) than my actual "will."

It's easy to see with time and distance why God's plans are always far superior to our own.  Even 1992 Megan could have told 1991 Megan that she was crazy.  But there's always that delicate window - sometimes a couple weeks, a number of months, years on end - when our "will" seems so realistic, so attainable, so PERFECT... why, oh why, oh why can't God understand? This is absolutely what I need and I need it now and what does He know anyway!!!

My "will" of a year ago was confused, desperate, bitter. We had been married for four years and had been trying for about half that time to start a family. (Isn't that word "trying" funny? It is to me now.  It implies that we have any kind of control, that the decision to have children is entirely a human one and has nothing to do with God.  As if He couldn't bless someone not "trying" with a child.)  2008 Megan had been hopeful, joyful.  2009 Megan had been impatient, worried, but had a whole list of possible explanations to help guard herself against despair.  2010 Megan had checked off what she believed to be every possible explanation for why God hadn't blessed her with a child yet.  Tim finished school, check.  Health insurance, check.  Move and "settle in" (whatever that means), check.  The baby's room was picked out.  I was getting in shape and taking control of my nutrition.  WHAT MORE could possibly be the reason?  I'd had acupuncture, chiropractic, labwork, x-rays, test after test, and was taking this AWFUL medication that made me crabby, tired, and sweaty.  I don't even know if I had a "will" a year ago.  I was just going through the motions.

"Be still, and know that I am God..."

God has shown me so many times in my life that it is in my best interest to be STILL and let Him work.  He shows me my plans of 20 years ago, 10 years ago, and allows me to laugh at my younger self as I see clearly His greater will for my life.  When He shows me my will of a year ago, it still stings.  I think it always will.  But the picture is fading, like late fall's brown grass being covered by the first beautiful, white, unsalted, un"yellowed" snow of winter.  God has another plan, and he's just beginning to uncover it.

"...I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth."

God's plans are so much bigger than just us.  My will was once "Megan, Tim, and baby." But if Tim and I are on the right track, and God's will for us is to become adoptive parents, then His plan is SO much bigger.  It now includes Megan, Tim, baby, the unique blessing of an open birth family relationship, all the amazing adoption families we have met and stories we have heard, what felt like a 3-credit-course in Domestic Infant Adoption Paperwork, an unbelievable outpouring of support and love from friends and family, an opportunity to raise a child with an uncertain future in a Christian home as a baptized child of God, and so many more blessings we haven't even begun to imagine, in ADDITION to all the other incredible blessings of parenthood.  God's plans don't exist to give us what WE want.  God's plans exist to bring the people of this world to their loving Savior Jesus, and to glorify His name.  He uses us for that plan.  Our strengths and weaknesses, our triumphs and struggles, all are a part of His greater plan.

I just wanted a baby.  That baby isn't here yet... but I have already been blessed beyond measure by the adoption process.  Thank you, Lord, for your plan... for your will.  It's still cloudy and uncertain, but I'm sure it's perfect.