It's been a while since I've written here. I've been writing, but it isn't stuff that I can post online. Life has been...unsettled...for us. Sometimes it's best when things are hard to circle the wagons and withdraw into a place where there is safety and understanding and the only voices you can hear are those who bear you up...and the Father.

I was thinking this morning about how sometimes I'm afraid to talk to the Father.

I'm afraid of what He might say back.

Specifically, I was wondering what He would say if I brought each of my children before Him and asked Him what I should get each one for Christmas.

Do you know I was afraid to ask because I was afraid He might say, "The best thing you can get your children is nothing."

Perhaps He won't. Now that I know I'm afraid, I'm going to ask anyway.

But there have been other times I was afraid to ask Him what I should do because I was afraid His answer would have been too hard.

I'm such an American.

I'm such a fat, rich, spoiled American.

I'm such a "my way or the highway" American.

This has been such a hard year for my family. I can remember two other such difficult years in my life. One was when my father left us for another family when I was a teen. The other was when my oldest son reached the bottom of a very dark pit.

I've lived through all three years, complete with healed scars and deepened faith and a desperate dependence on the Father, Who, by the way, I am convinced is the author of every breath I take.

I remember the first bad year, I didn't want to ask the Father what I should do because I knew I didn't want to hear what He would ask of me...so I didn't ask. I just went my own way, and have five years of death to show for it.

The second bad year, the one with my son, I did ask, but the fear of what the Father might ask of me was so terrifying that I begged for mercy louder than I mumbled my request of His will.

This third year...I wonder why it doesn't get much easier being human?

Not long ago, a family was found for our adopted son with whom we had to dissolve our adoption.  We signed away, relinquished, gave to strangers, all of our rights to this child. It was one of the hardest days of my entire life.

His adoption with the family didn't last. They disrupted after a few weeks. Our son...I don't know what else to call him yet...is in another foster home. I don't know what will happen to him.

I need to ask the Father what I should do now. But I'm afraid to. I'm afraid of what He might ask of me.

Still.

Is that insane or what?

His love for me is deeper by far than the love I feel for my children. His wisdom makes my wisdom look like nothing...less than an atom.

And still, I try to protect myself from Him.

I am a fool.

But I am a fool who can learn.

I will ask.