God and Me 21-Wrestling with my flesh

My brother and I used to wrestle a lot when we were little. I thought it was great fun until my brother got stronger than me and I started losing most of our matches. This week has been a wrestling match of another kind: one where I am continually battling what my flesh wants.

Sharing at church has prompted people to talk with us about our adoptions. Though we've always had people visit with us about it, sharing just means even more people want to talk to you about it. Throughout the course of our adoptions, we have heard things like "You guys are so patient." or "I don't know how you do it." We've also heard things like "You guys are still doing that? I thought maybe you'd given up."

The truth is we wait because we have no choice. I would say that while there are certainly times when we've been able to rest and not fret about our adoptions, there have also been times where fretting and wishing for things to go faster have been all we've felt like doing. We are not saints by any stretch nor do we have the patience of Job as has been suggested by some.

Right now, I am not feeling patient. I am not feeling very gracious. I am not feeling very peaceful. We are now on week 3 of waiting for passports, something that can take as little as 2 weeks. My head recognizes lots of things: that God is ultimately in charge of when Kenson comes home, that one more week or two more weeks in process isn't the end of the world, that lots of things happen in Haiti that are out of people's control. But my heart is bent out of shape. I want the passport to be issued in a timely manner. I want people to recognize how long the last part of our process has taken, that we have had a child who has been legally our child since April. I want people who are working on our paperwork to know how any apathy they might have towards Kenson's dossier is unfair.

God is at work in me during this time, I'm sure. And I know He has given me all I need for godly living. But truthfully, part of me doesn't want to do the godly living thing. Part of me wants to throw a pity party and be mad and crabby and indignant. A big chunk of me would like to yell a bit. And I'd really like to follow that yelling with some crying. Of course, none of that changes the situation nor is any of that what God wants from me. So my flesh and I will continue to wrestle. Adoption Battle 223 has now commenced.