The Cow and the Coat of Many Colors

I hit a cow. Yep, when I was in college, I crashed my tiny white Neon into a gigantic brown cow while driving home from work one starless country night. The cow-shaped hole in my windshield, along with rather severe front end damage was enough to total my car and earn me the unfortunate nickname "Butcher" for the rest of the school year (although, I should add, my bovine adversary remained standing and wholly unaffected as I careened into the nearest ditch). My husband sometimes reminds me of this story and chuckles, gloating, no doubt, in what he considers to be proof that his driving abilities are, in fact, superior to my own. Aside from providing Josh with a few boasting rights, I've never thought of that event as especially significant...until today. Tommy Nelson says it perfectly in The Story of God, "He uses all things, the great and the small, to accomplish His will. In fact, behind all the seemingly pointless, confusing, and mind-boggling events of life, God is patiently working out His plan." 

While driving down the road this afternoon, Aiden said to me, "Mom, have you ever been in a car wreck?" After relaying this story and offering him numerous reassurances to the cow's well-being (forget about me, he was highly concerned about how I may have injured the cow) he began trying to thoroughly define the word "ditch." Ultimately, he decided that a ditch must be a really deep hole that one is unable to climb out of, "kind of like the one," he said, "that Joseph's brothers threw him in." And that's how the story of my cow crash turned into an hour long discussion about the story of Joseph.

Maybe you're not at all acquainted with the Bible. Maybe you are and, as all too often happens with familiarity, its stories have become commonplace and lackluster. Consider me guilty as charged! I encourage you to read (or re-read) this riveting story in its entirety (found in Genesis 37-50 or, thank you modern technology, through Google). Sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, falsely accused and imprisoned for years, forgotten by friends who promised to advocate for his release, Joseph's story is one of despair, betrayal, hurt, and, ultimately, forgiveness and reconciliation. But trust me, an abridged version does not do justice to the intricacy and depth of this beautiful story.   

My car accident was a slightly scary (mostly just embarrassing) incident. God used it to create an opportunity for me to teach my son about His goodness and His sovereignty through one of the Bible's most enthralling characters. Joseph's story is heart-wrenching. Maybe your story is heart-wrenching, too. Maybe you feel hurt, betrayed, forgotten, forsaken, deeply wronged by injustice, or trapped in the midst of hopeless circumstances. I imagine Joseph did, too. But his story concludes like this: his trembling, petrified brothers throw themselves at his feet, offer themselves as slaves, wait to incur the wrath that they're certain is coming, and Joseph says, "Don't be afraid...You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives (Gen. 50:20)." The God of Joseph's story is the God of your story. The God who, after 10 years of heartache,  allowed Joseph to become one of the most powerful men in Egypt and used him to spare the lives of countless people from a ravishing famine (including the brothers who severely mistreated him) is the God who can use your darkest hour to accomplish something magnificent. Hold on, friends, it's not yet the end of your story. 

Homestudy

"The most important work you and I will ever do is within the walls of our own home."

 Harold B. Lee


If you've ever embarked on the journey of adoption (or, for that matter, tried to navigate your way through any paperwork jungle), then you know that that delays, 11th hour requirements, and fine print hold-ups, unfortunately,  are the norm, not the exception. Our story is not unique.  


Last Friday, despite originally being told otherwise, we found out that we have to have a homestudy before completing our adoption. Sigh. This would not be a big deal, except that we finally got a court date set (February 10th, yay!) and, more than likely, our homestudy will not be completed by that time, which means yet another delay. Furthermore, it's an unexpected blow to our already wounded budget. HOWEVER, the Lord is ever so faithful and we're choosing to trust Him to provide, in His own time, recognizing that His creativity far exceeds the rules of logic that we continuously try to impose on Him. 


"Homestudy," what a funny word...what a scary thought! Are they going to inspect every nook and cranny of our house? Am I going to be evaluated on my cleanliness? Even scarier! Don't judge me. I'm trying to find balance in all areas of my life and, admittedly, this is an area that has suffered since my littles have arrived and even more so since I've started working part-time. I find, though, that I'm terribly sentimental about the whole idea. I've meandered through my home, room by room, and allowed myself to recall memory after memory.


 Ms. Homestudy won't know that my sweet husband once tried to surprise me with a clean house, mopped the hall with furniture polish, and made it slicker than ice for a month. She won't know that the color of our dining room walls was once paw-printed all over the floor when our Great Dane marched her puppy self through my paint pan. She'll pass right by the place I was standing when I told Josh that Jocelyn was on the way and she won't know that before Aiden's room was decked-out with skull-and-crossbones and treasure chests it was my lovely, sophisticated, french-inspried guest room. She will never know that we spent our first few months sitting (and sometimes sleeping) on a foam mattress topper because we had no furniture or that the Great Vegetable Soup Stand-off of 2010 happened right here in this very living room (Abby, thanks for supporting me through that one!). She'll be unaware that, in this kitchen, I cooked my very first turkey or that Aiden & I pretend to be Buddy the Cake Boss and Julia Child, respectively, on a regular basis. Nope, this house, our first home, the place where we brought our babies home, feverishly prayed over big decisions, laughed, cried, slept, played, and settled will be just a house to her. Truth be told, I realize that it's just a thing and it's full of things...meaningless without the memories and emotions that give them value. Sometimes, though, our things can be reflective of our character and our values. I'm praying that Ms. Homestudy will leave our house confident that Josh and I are crazy about each other, madly in love with our babies, and that we desire to follow hard after the Lord all the days of our life. And, of course, that this will be the final step in completing the adoption of our sweet, sweet son.