It was a terribly low point in my daughter’s life. She was struggling to trust that God really knew what was best for her life. After all, what kind of God lets a child’s mother die, leaving her at the mercy of strangers? Strangers who would come to lead her onto a plane away from everything she ever knew, to begin a different life far away? To be honest, it didn’t make much sense to me either. But here we were in the first months after she came home, staring that new life of hers in the face. A new life in which her body lived in the home of these pale strangers, while her heart longed for her first mom who was now in heaven.
Six months home and it seemed that her misery with this new life would never abate. At one point I grabbed her hands and looked into her eyes. “I know it’s hard to believe that God is good, that He really truly knows what is best for your life. It feels like He gave you bad, not good. I know you will see good someday. But until then, I will believe for both of us, OK? I will have faith for you, even now when you can’t.”
I’m not sure if my words really lodged in her brain– after all, she was new to English, having spoken another language for nearly a decade before coming to us. But she seemed to calm at my words, at my heart-felt promise that she would have faith again some day, that she would find joy, even though now it seemed her wounded heart would never mend.
As I gripped her hands I remember trying to imagine a life where I truly believed God was cruel, that my fate was in the hands of someone who didn’t care about me. That life looked more barren to me than dead volcanic rock. It tore my heart to think that my child was there, feeling that all was hopeless, that God was not on her side.
And so I spoke hope for her future. But even as those words fell fierce from my lips, I knew it wasn’t the power of my faith that would save her. No. Not my feeble faith. What had really happened was that peering into that bleakness made me look back again at the God I knew. The one who loved both me and my daughter with an unendingly wise love. I realized afresh that no matter my frailty, no matter my daughter’s pain, He was up to the task of drawing her back to him. I knew without a doubt that I could trust the God who loved both of us to bring us both out of that place.
And He has.
I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the LORD. (Ps 27:13-14)
Has mothering impacted your faith journey? I’d love to hear about it. If you’re interested in reading more on this topic, please visit the lovely ladies below who also wrote today about faith and motherhood.
- Smockity Frocks – How the Faith of a Child Affects Our Faith
- The Happy Housewife- Faith Like a Child
- Balancing Beauty and Bedlam – Faith of Our Children
- Mom’s Toolbox – Praying For a Baby Sister
- Amy’s Finer Things – What About MY Faith?
- Parenting Miracles – Learning to Be a Light
- Kitchen Stewardship – A Siren Call to Prayer