Just Run

Mid-July, I had a runner friend of mine challenge me to run my first half marathon. At first I just laughed at her suggestion--but somehow, the thought slowly worked its way into my thinking. By the end of the week, I decided I would begin training. 

Now, just to clarify. I am not a runner. I don't especially enjoy it--it's more of a necessary evil that I do sometimes in the warm weather months...On a couple months, off a couple months. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Anyways, since July, I have slowly been coming to the realization that our adoption is not going anywhere...One person, half way across the world, is standing in the way and is making it impossible for us to move forward. She has been since Spring.

These training runs, often at least an hour or so, were very good for me. I filled my playlist with all of the songs that God has been using to encourage and challenge my heart throughout these last nine months. These runs were filled with tears, pleading with God to intervene and to bring my son home to me. They were filled with doubts, as I worked to reconcile in my mind the truth that God is good...yet my son might never be coming home. These runs were a pure hour to two hours of talking with God in my prayers, pouring out my heart to my Father, struggling through my emotions, worshiping Him in song.

The week of my half marathon, we received news from Ethiopia that led us to believe that we are at the end of our adoption road. Even though the Ethiopian government has given their permission for our adoption, we still have this one woman who is dead set against it....and the government over her will do nothing about it. There are, of course, more details than that--but I am not quite ready to put them all out there, in the open.

The reality is this: Unless this woman has a massive heart change, Oliver will never be ours. The proper authorities, who are in place to ensure things like this don't happen, just don't care enough to do something. And really, they are the only ones who could do anything.

That news hit me on Monday and my run was supposed to be Saturday. I was shaken. It was a struggle to even convince myself to get out of bed in the morning, much less run in a race. I just didn't feel like it. I didn't feel like doing anything or even seeing anyone. I felt like curling up under my covers, waiting for sleep to come to dull my senses. This is not how I imagined things to turn out.

That week before, I had just begun to study a few different Scripture passages, in preparation for choosing one to use for our ladies small group Bible studies at our church. My mind fell on Hebrews 12. It starts like this,

1 Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 2 looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
3 For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls. 4 You have not yet resisted to bloodshed, striving against sin. 

Then further down,

12 Therefore strengthen the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees, 13 and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be dislocated, but rather be healed.

That entire week, this passage permeated my thinking. The passage is talking about the Christian life, as a race. The author is challenging the believers to persevere, even when difficulties come. Keep running your race, even when you can barely walk...maybe hardly even crawl.

That's exactly where I was...I could barely crawl, but I was still called to run my Christian race. These verses just kept running through my mind. I felt like hiding away...but I kept recalling, "Run with endurance the race set before you. Lift up the drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees...Run!"

So I ran my race that Saturday. It was slow and ugly, painful--full of tears at the week's news, at the realization that my boy is probably never coming home. But I ran. I finished.

Since that week, the news has not really changed. It's gotten a little worse, in fact. Dave and I are not sure what we're going to do next. In time, we may share more details. I just felt like I couldn't leave you all in the dark any longer. I don't know what the future holds.

But this one thing I know...I have got to keep running this race--God's not done with me yet.