Looking For Windows

Today I did something I never dreamed I would have to do. Today we placed our Little Gift in his birth mother’s arms. I had to let go of the son of my heart and entrust him to another. I had to walk away, knowing that this time I don’t get to pick him up in a few hours.  It was unbelievably hard. But I left with the picture of his birth mama’s beaming face in my mind. And that makes this all the more bittersweet.

During the last 6 months we have invested everything into this little life. Loved him as our own, cared for his needs, cherished our moments with him. Hoped that he would stay forever. But now his crib is empty. His little baby babble doesn’t echo through the rooms and my arms are empty of his warm cuddles. We knew that God called us to this little life. Called us to be his family. We put our trust in knowing that we were right where we needed to be. But now we sit staring at this closed door.

Watching the Sound of Music with my mom is a wonderful memory that I have of my childhood.  In one of my favorite scenes in the movie, Maria is leaving the Abbey on the way to become the new governess for the Von Trapp children and she turns to look back as the gates close and says “When the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window”. I always liked that saying – it sounded so hopeful – but the thought of trying to crawl through a window when a perfectly good door is available was somehow always seemed like an awkward and poorly planned idea. Windows aren’t made to be walked through, so why should God opening a window be something to look for? This phrase came back to me yesterday as I was pouring out my broken heart to God and suddenly I found myself looking at this from a very different perspective.

When a door closes it is often so easy to camp out in front of it, lamenting that it has barred us from our desired destination. From where we hoped it would take us. We pace in the face of the closure and chafe impatiently that it causes us to wait. Causes us to question. But what if we stopped staring at the finality of the closed door. What if “Not my will, but Yours” became the words that slipped from our lips instead of “Why”. I think it’s then that we would find that Surrender lifts our heads and whispers, “Look for the windows”. Because windows aren’t made to give us an exit from our disappointments. They aren’t made to circumvent the times of waiting and growth that God uses in our lives to shape us and mold our characters. Nor are they a poorly executed route by the Master Architect to get us to the next destination. No, windows aren’t meant to be walked through, but to be looked through.

The dictionary definition of a window is: an opening in the wall or roof of a building or vehicle that is fitted with glass or other transparent material in a frame to admit light or air and allow people to see out. Windows offer the glimpses that keep hope alive while we wait for the fullness of His Plan to unfold. They are the morsels of sustenance that sustain us. Windows allow us to peek into the beauty that is unfolding beyond our own “room”, our own lives. To seek the window is to trust that the Master Architect will open another door. In His time. And it’s gratitude. It’s looking beyond ourselves to rejoice in the little provisions that we often dismiss. Seeing what we would never see if we stayed fixated on the door that has closed.

Windows have another purpose. They let in the Light. Disappointment can darken our days and eat away at our joy. Scripture says, weeping may remain for a night, but Joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30:5). Why? Because that is when the Light comes! That is when the Sun rises, growing in strength, streaming through any crack and crevice it can find, warming and awakening! The Light lifts the spirit. It rejuvenates the soul. And it is needed to experience growth.

Windows also let in the Air. They are an opening up to admit the breath of the Spirit. The breath that brings life back into withered dreams. The breath that refreshes and invigorates. When God breathed into Adam in the garden, he became a living soul. In a similar way He will breathe new life into the dry and stagnant places in our lives. But only if we stop clinging to the shuttered doors and move towards the windows.

Our door may be closed, but I have seen a glimpse of something far beyond my wildest imaginings. I can see that maybe this is all part of a bigger plan. And something that is about far more than just me or my little family. A masterpiece that I can’t yet see, because it’s still in process.

When our Little Gift arrived, I needed something to use for correspondence with his birth mom as he went back and forth to his many visits. I happened to grab a small notebook that I’d only written on a couple of pages in, so I ripped them out to use the notebook. I came across those pages yesterday and actually stopped to read them. In them I had been prayer journaling at a time I was feeling exceptionally broken. I had poured out to God that I often felt like a patchwork quilt made of random pieces that someone had hastily thrown together with crude stitches. But as I sat in His Presence, this is what came to me. “What makes a patchwork quilt beautiful? Isn’t it often valuable? Treasured, lovingly handcrafted, an heirloom passed down through generations? It isn’t the expanse of an unflawed, untouched, single piece of fabric that makes it beautiful, it’s the many different pieces fitted together. Would it look the same if any of the pieces were missing? Definitely not. Each piece has it’s place in the master design. Stop thinking that you need to be a full piece of untouched fabric. The pieces are what make you who you are. Let Me add the pieces that will make you who I want you to be. There’s beauty in the patchwork. You’ll see.”

I don’t think it was an accident that I rediscovered these words only hours before I would have to release the babe in my arms. This is another piece of my patchwork. And we have had the privilege of being a part of his. Knowing what I know now, would I do it again? In a heartbeat. Why? Because every child deserves to be fiercely loved. Loved with abandon. Loved so deeply that their absence is a painful loss. I would do it again, even knowing that my Little Gift was not going to stay. I gave a gift I had no intention of asking back, because the gift wasn’t for me. It was for him. Even if it has left my heart in pieces. Because that is what Christ did for us. I’ve never before seen so clearly the Love God has for us. This is His heart. He  gave His All to draw us close. He longs to put the lonely and solitary in families (Psalm 68:6).

Foster care matters. Adoption matters. And no, the system isn’t perfect. Neither are the people who work within it and plenty of mistakes are made. But no matter the reason a child is apprehended, they have the right to be completely and unconditionally loved! Especially, when they are in care. And for some of them, the time they spend in care will be the only time in their lives they may have the opportunity to experience that. Yes, we might get “too attached”. I would venture to say if we don’t, we’re not doing it right. Yes, things will probably not go the way we expect. Yes, our hearts might just get shredded. But we have to look for the windows. Look beyond ourselves.

So, yes! We will do it again, and my heart may get broken again. And again. Only God know where this will all lead or how many lives He can change through the little we offer Him. We just have to remember that beauty often comes out of brokenness when it’s surrendered to the Maker. Yes, I will grieve. Deeply. I will never “get over” our Little Gift, just as I will never get over my two angel babes. He is a part of me and always will be. But I refuse to sit and do nothing or rail in anger at God for the closed door before me. Because I have no idea what He is working at beyond the door, or what the future holds in being willing to say “Yes.” I will pick up the shattered pieces of my brokenness and offer them up to the Mender of Hearts. And then I will look for the windows. And let the Light and Breath of God do their work. Until a new door opens and I hear His voice whisper “This is the way. Walk in it.”