I feel like I have had this most of my life. Like it’s this underlying theme of my life… Unfulfilled dreams, unanswered prayers, ungranted hopes and wishes.
Maybe it’s me… maybe there’s something wrong with what I’m wanting and asking and wishing for… maybe I’m the habitual debbie downer always carrying around a luke warm glass half empty. I don’t know… But what I do know, is that tonight I didn’t get what I wanted…
Our precious little Lily dog is nearly like another child to me. Yea, I’m one of "those" people. We adopted her several years ago, didn’t know her age, didn’t know any of her history, didn’t even know her real name. She was a mess when I went to meet her, in fact - she was such a mess I couldn’t leave her there… So I took her home with me, vowing if it didn’t work to have her in our home, I would find another loving home that would work for her. But the crazy thing - it did work, and she soon had her cute little fur wrapped all around this mama’s heart.
This summer has been hard on Miss Lily, and probably more hard on me. She has really aged this summer, her knees, her hips, her back are so so sore. She’s lost almost all her teeth, she has trouble getting around and spends nearly all her time sleeping. We know our time with her is drawing to a close, and my heart aches watching and helping her grow old gracefully.
For about a year we have talked about whether or not we should get another dog before Lily passes away. Lord knows, this fur mama wants another dog to love. We talked and looked into puppies, but absolutely can’t afford them, and neither of us really want to take on training a puppy. We had an opportunity to adopt a dog earlier this summer, but she was already quite old and we didn’t want to go through the aging process again so quickly.
Long ago my husband and I set the defining traits of what the “perfect” next dog we adopt would need to have, and left it that if God would bring that opportunity about, we would go from there, at that time. Female, around two years old, house trained, able to travel well, able to interact well with kids and other dogs, be of the yorkie breed or yorkie breed mix (size, temperament, appearance, yorkie tail, absolutely non-shedding), and the adoption / re-homing fee could not be over $200. Oh, and we didn’t want to drive more than a few hours. So we’ve been loving on our Lily and just keeping our eyes open.
And then last night there was a dog listed on a local swap… a dog that seemingly met all the requirements. And we were first in line to meet her. I found myself an emotional and nervous wreck all day. It felt like I did when we were in the process of adopting our son. Good gandhi so many unknowns, so many emotions in the wait. I was soooooo hoping this was the one… the next Crane to join our little clan. I was certain she was going to be the one… As we drove out of town on our way there, I was certain she was going to be coming home with us. In my mind she was already ours and I was already in love with her (that's kinda how things tend to work in the adoption world for me I’ve found) {wink}
And then we arrived, and met her… and she was absolutely perfect, and sweet, and lovable, and well loved, and met every single criteria… except she was twice the size of our Lily, and carried an incredible amount of youthful energy. I knew immediately when I saw her. Deep within, my hope caught short in my throat. She was just too big. Someone mistreated and hurt our Lily before us. She cowers, she hides, she spends the majority of her time in the dark recesses of the underside of our couch or in the far black corner under our bed. If we had taken this dear, adorable, lovable, nearly perfect dog home with us, our poor aged and ailing little Lily would have never ever come out from hiding the rest of her tired, pain filled days.
I knew I could very easily fall in love with this little gem of a dog… I also knew that I was going to have to walk away and drive home without her. My husband told me no, he also knew. We both had to tell our ecstatic nine year old no. And then someone had to tell my poor heart no, which was of course left entirely up to me.
We thanked the wonderful young man for letting us come meet her and we would let him know for sure in the next little bit… And within about two blocks I was already in tears. Emotions were already raging out of control in me… it’s August for Heaven’s sake. I’d already spent the majority of the last several days crying and near mama meltdown.
It wasn’t so much that I was sad… It was that I was so incredibly disappointed. So incredibly disappointed. My heart so hoped and ached to be able to bring home another dog, open up my heart and home with a new little lovely that would in fact love me. When adoption runs in your veins, I’ve found you’re able to love fully before even meeting. Love fully without question, without qualms, without reasoning. You simply trust… and leap.
But this was not meant to be, and I was crushed. Deep inside of course I knew it’s for the best and that this wasn’t meant to be, this isn’t the right timing, this isn’t the right dog, and that I have to trust God’s plan…
I continued to cry and I continued to be emotionally overflowing. We arrived at the local ice cream parlor and the boys ordered ice cream. I sat and watched them eat, wishing I was still thirty pounds heavier so I wouldn’t have to care, so I wouldn’t have to say no, so I would be able to indulge and feed my sorrow with empty, yummy calories after calories. But I didn’t. I didn’t order any ice cream, I didn’t indulge my sorrows with empty calories.
We took our seat at an outside table… And there beneath the table were two pennies laying on the ground. Pennies from heaven. A little hello and hug from above from our Faith MaryJo. More emotions.
As we drove home I found the tears unstoppable. This was the second time I’d driven home from the ice cream parlor in utter mom sobbing meltdown. The last time had been on our anniversary two years ago, while I was still pregnant with Faith. I had been poured into non-maternity wear, just having turned forty years old, and carrying a dying child, one that I had begged and wished for for nearly twenty years.
Distant memories of before and my current dashed dreams fed my exhausted emotions, leaving my husband in the seat next to me becoming increasingly agitated and angry at me. Yes, I was disappointed that what I hoped would be the perfect fit, was in fact not. What I had invested hours of emotional baggage and pre-processing into had been for nothing.
But this wasn’t really all completely about a dog. This wasn’t completely about my anger and disappointment at God because the size of this dog was two times too large.
No, this wasn’t just about a dog… this is about my anger and disappointment at God because the size of my baby had been too times two small and the answer to my prayer had been that of utter and shear disappointment. Death had been her final answer. We had driven away tonight and our family status had not changed. The same way we had driven away from the hospital after she had been born and our family status had not changed.
As we drove home I found the tears unstoppable. This was the second time I’d driven home from the ice cream parlor in utter mom sobbing meltdown. The last time had been on our anniversary two years ago, while I was still pregnant with Faith. I had been poured into non-maternity wear, just having turned forty years old, and carrying a dying child, one that I had begged and wished for for nearly twenty years.
Distant memories of before and my current dashed dreams fed my exhausted emotions, leaving my husband in the seat next to me becoming increasingly agitated and angry at me. Yes, I was disappointed that what I hoped would be the perfect fit, was in fact not. What I had invested hours of emotional baggage and pre-processing into had been for nothing.
But this wasn’t really all completely about a dog. This wasn’t completely about my anger and disappointment at God because the size of this dog was two times too large.
No, this wasn’t just about a dog… this is about my anger and disappointment at God because the size of my baby had been too times two small and the answer to my prayer had been that of utter and shear disappointment. Death had been her final answer. We had driven away tonight and our family status had not changed. The same way we had driven away from the hospital after she had been born and our family status had not changed.
Yes, this is more than a dog issue for me… yes, this is a disappointment issue between me and God. This is a “God, you took my baby!” issue. She was supposed to have been born full term and healthy in August. She was supposed to have milky fair skin, red hair, blue eyes, ten perfect fingers, and ten perfect toes. But she wasn’t born in August, she was already in Heaven by August. And she wasn’t perfect and healthy, she had fluid on her brain, a hole in her heart, and trisomy 18 in her DNA. God called her home before we got to take her home, and that broke me to my very core. The hurt, and confusion, and disappointment was devastating and beyond comprehension.
Tonight’s tears and mama meltdown are ultimately about my disappointment in not getting to grow my family and share my love and my affection and care… and apparently whether that is a baby or a dog, both are able to stir up some pretty strong emotions in me right now. It’s a matter of needing to trust God’s journey for my life, trust His timing in the wait, trust His answers in the unknown. And we all know I’m a control freak… so waiting on the Lord and trusting completely in Him is hard for me.
God continues to age and slowly take our Lily from us, she’s on “puppy hospice” as I’ve been referring to it this summer, and we are in the process of already grieving and saying our goodbyes as we prepare.
August was the month we were supposed to say hello and meet our little Faith, but we have already had to say our goodbyes long ago to her, and we continue to grieve. We don’t get to plan a fun sparkly pink birthday party and officially enter into the terrible two's this month. Most days I’m ok with that, most days I have fully come to grips with that… but on occasion, like the days of late, it’s just been a little harder to handle and process than most days.
Tonight’s tears and mama meltdown are ultimately about my disappointment in not getting to grow my family and share my love and my affection and care… and apparently whether that is a baby or a dog, both are able to stir up some pretty strong emotions in me right now. It’s a matter of needing to trust God’s journey for my life, trust His timing in the wait, trust His answers in the unknown. And we all know I’m a control freak… so waiting on the Lord and trusting completely in Him is hard for me.
God continues to age and slowly take our Lily from us, she’s on “puppy hospice” as I’ve been referring to it this summer, and we are in the process of already grieving and saying our goodbyes as we prepare.
August was the month we were supposed to say hello and meet our little Faith, but we have already had to say our goodbyes long ago to her, and we continue to grieve. We don’t get to plan a fun sparkly pink birthday party and officially enter into the terrible two's this month. Most days I’m ok with that, most days I have fully come to grips with that… but on occasion, like the days of late, it’s just been a little harder to handle and process than most days.
But I'm entitled to grieve, I'm entitled to my tears.
This too shall pass, I know it always does. This overwhelm of sadness, emotions, and numbing disappointment will again lighten and ease away, it always does. God will continue to be faithful in His love for me and my family, He always does. It’s just somehow maneuvering through this tricky time of triggers and reminders that aren't always the smoothest, quickest, and easiest for me.
Most days right now my husband doesn't quite know what to do with me, my tears and my roller coaster emotions and outbursts have left him edgy, snappy, and grumpy with me. He chooses to avoid me while he sits on his phone in front of the tv (don't worry, I'd totally avoid myself too if I could right now!!). You know, he quite honestly does think all of this, all these tears and drama tonight, is in fact... about a dog... although part of me is also fairly certain he's also dealing with some deep underlying wounds of unexpressed life disappointment over the travesties and trials of this life.
It is about a dog... about a precious dog that is in our home and nearing her last days, about a precious dog that will one day welcome into our home and family but we haven't found yet, about a precious dog that we met but will be finding her new forever home in another home with another family tomorrow, it's about memories and feelings from the adoption process we've traveled with our son, AND... it's about the little girl that we also didn't get to welcome into our home and family in the way we wanted her to.
We prayed, we begged, we pleaded for the miracle of her life... and we were left utterly devastated when that had a disappointingly different outcome than what we wanted.
We're left in the wake of the disaster, the aftermath of the storm... left to merely trust the journey, obey the call, and continue to pick up the pieces of this one life we've been granted, one day at a time. Laying it all at the foot of the cross is hard for me.
I battle thinking I know what I want, and I know when I want it, and I think I'm perfectly fine being the one completely in control of the events and timelines of my life, and my families life. But over and over I have been shown that this is not the case... I am not the best one left to control and navigate every detail of my out-of-control life.
I live with so many fears and failures and utter disappointments when I'm the one attempting to run the show. I struggle with trusting God's timing, I'm uncomfortable living within the invisible syllabus of my life's outline.
I want to know, I want to control, I want to understand... But God wants me to obey, to be submissive, to blindly trust. What is meant to be in my life will be, what is not meant to be in my life, is not meant to be. It's a fairly black and white concept in my incredibly messy and boldly vibrant, rose colored life.
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