I can't show you the pictures of my sons quite yet, not until our court date on Oct. 22nd. You would understand better the impulses I feel to move heaven and earth to go and get them right now if you could gaze upon their faces.
Something about seeing them standing there with their names taped to the front of their shirts makes me feel like they are prisoners waiting for someone to post bail. I say "gaze upon their faces", but the painful truth is that their faces are already semi-faceless. They have surely bounced around enough by now to realize the concept of home or parents isn't in their deck of cards, let alone their hand.
They stare at the camera with a far away look in their eyes, the older one (Joshua) especially. He is about two and a half and every time I see his face his eyes look hollowed out. Don't get me wrong, his eyes are big and brown and beautiful...soft and gentle and kind...but the pilot light is flickering, weak and weakening the longer he floats in transition, stays in borderland.
The baby (Caleb) is about 7 months old and has much more life in his face, but even then, the few pictures we've been blessed with show a lostness that pains me. Every day that goes by I wonder if anything else will "get to him". Days mean everything in these formative seasons of development and it makes me wonder what traits and tendencies are being forged in this temporary "holding pattern".
I don't question that they are being loved by someone right now, but it is not my wife, myself or my girls. I feel so removed from their goings on and powerless to affect change or influence development. Each night as I set my alarm on my phone and plug it into the charger, I see their faces and am reminded to pray for them. My first thought each night that I either whisper under my breath or say into my own head is "Hang on, boys. We're coming to get you. Hold on." I know that's not a prayer, but I'm hoping the Spirit can take that limping language and translate it into protection and provision. My anchoring thought is that God is fathering them and He will watch out for them as any good dad would.
The days are dragging along and with every day I feel a stab of fear that we are losing precious time as we follow due process. The long and short of it is that they are there and we are here and that is just increasingly unacceptable.
Join us in prayer for our sons...
"Hang on, boys. We're coming for you."
Friday, September 14, 2012
I'm a bachelor for a few days while Heidi is gone for the Women's Retreat. While the cat's away, the mice will play.
Oh, speaking of mice, one of my projects while Heidi is gone is to hunt down a mouse that has been using our silverware drawer as its restroom. She cleaned out the whole drawer before she left and said, "Get to Meijer, get some traps, and get the mouse before I get back home!" Yes, babe.
Hunting mice is one of my favorite hobbies. There is something about looking for droppings, tracking their whereabouts, setting the trap and checking it when you get home that makes me feel like I'm an old trapper from the 1800's or something. Or better, like a cattle rancher trying to catch that darn wolf that keeps picking off beef cows in his helpless herd. The rush of hearing that snap or opening that drawer and seeing your prey caught in the act is invigorating. (I'm exposing how unmanly my job is as a pastor, aren't I?)
For those who've know me a while, this reminds me of a "Mouse hunting" story from yesteryear. I thought I'd repost it in hopes that the next couple days will lead to the same bounty hunting exploits. Enjoy my trip down memory lane to the year 2005!