I will never write an autobiography. Ever. Even if I were to become a world famous author rolling in dough with multiple movies made from my books, it 'aint gonna happen.
Why? Well, besides the fact that I'm not that intriguing, it's just too difficult.
For those who know me, they know the significance of those last four words. I've never been one to back down, but I admit it, that challenge can whip me any day of the week and twice on Sunday.
As an aspiring novelist, I thoroughly enjoy getting to know my characters. Learning what makes them tick, their aspirations, their hidden scars and how they need redemption is probably my favorite thing about writing. Peeking in on myself, however, not so much. It's more akin to rolling across a bed of nails. Thus it’s been for me as I attempt to answer the seemingly endless list of questions required to complete my “autobiography” for our home study. And if that’s not bad enough, as of this writing I’m still not done.
Looking back on life at the same time as I deal with other non-adoption related issues has spawned the perfect storm, opening up a lot of old scabs, some of which I didn’t even know were there. Painful memories and feelings have surfaced like giant air bubbles. No, I’m not sitting around bawling, or lying in the fetal position sucking my thumb, but I’m dealing with some serious stuff I didn’t anticipate. Yet, I know it’s a necessary evil, as all of the governments and agencies involved in our adoption need to be assured they’re not placing some poor child with a freak. So with that in mind I bite down on the proverbial leather strap and drudge forward.
With the pain, however, some good has surfaced as well. I can look back and plainly see the Lord’s hand in my life at every turn. Since I accepted him as an eight year old boy in Phoenix Avenue Baptist Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma He has never failed me – even when I failed Him. He’s been present in every success and failure. He gave me three heroes – my wife, my mother and my grandmother whom I adore and have learned so much from. He’s even seen fit to use me for His glory in ways I never dreamed of, including adoption. He’s given Martha and I a love for the ages, and blessed us with two beautiful daughters.
So I guess the point is this: the prize is worth the pain of the race. The adoption process isn’t a sprint, but a long, arduous marathon. Maybe even a biathalon. We swim through a sea of paper and run intrusive gauntlet and hurdle miles of red tape. But we run with a prize in mind - the peace in knowing we’re answering the Lord’s call and the incredible, anticipated joy of wrapping our son up in our arms. It’s a process I wouldn’t wish on my enemies with a prize that I wish everyone could experience – especially all of those precious children who need a home. So it’s back to the pain, with a grateful heart to the Lord for His unfailing love, knowing that the best is yet to come.
Hey Lord, can you hold the prize a little higher?
~ Matthew
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