This past Saturday I went on a girls’ road trip with friends to the Pioneer Woman Mercantile in Pawhuska, Oklahoma. Very cool place, you should go there. Cute little town, lots of character. The Merc opened last fall and has been wildly popular. Wildly is putting it mildly. Averages 6000 customers daily during the week. On the weekend? Upwards to 15,000 in a day. The population of Pawhuska is 3,666 fine friendly country folks. Okies are the friendliest folks on the planet. I mean it!!
So….the Merc was packed with people. There were lines of people outside waiting to just get inside the restaurant section, with estimated wait time of 2 hours. Two Hours. 120 minutes. One hundred twenty minutes. Far far too long for us chicks to wait. As it turned out we innocently cut into a line we didn’t know existed, and entered the store/bakery section while the doorkeeper’s head was turned. Of course we never made it to the restaurant section. Enjoyed superb baked pastries and luscious coffee instead.
It’s one thing to wait in line for a fun event, or to eat a fancy meal. Pretty insignificant compared to other “waiting rooms” we might find ourselves in from time to time. You’ve spent time in your own waiting room, I’m certain of that. So have I.
Both of my daughters and their husbands were very eager to become parents. But parenthood isn’t a quick process for every couple. Between both couples there were eleven years total for me in that stressful waiting room. With prayerful consideration, adoption was the route they both chose to take. For both of them, it was a roller coaster of emotions. Lots of “why” and “hurry up” type prayers. While you wait. And wait and wait. I found myself trying to cheer them on from the spectator section. Often it felt like I was right there with them on that wild roller coaster ride. The excitement of our first grandson’s adoption was indescribable. But the roller coaster continued to operate for my youngest.
One particular morning during our youngest daughter’s wait to adopt, I had a meltdown of epic proportions and found myself sobbing and crying out to God, begging Him to please make my girl a mommy. Seeing her pain was breaking my heart. I cried out to God, telling Him that I seriously did not think I would survive if she wasn’t able to be a mother. I cried aloud to Him that I trusted Him as much as I possibly could, but my faith was weak.
Mainly, I just cried. And cried. Sobbing to the point I wasn’t sure I could stop.
In an attempt to just get a grip and stop weeping, I opened my devotional book for the day. It was a healthy living/diet type book with scriptural content. Surely that would distract me from my despair and stop the waterworks. A total change of subject to change my focus was what I needed. Words on dieting should do the trick, I hoped.
I opened up the devotional book to that day’s message on food and exercise and this is what I read:
The scripture was from Ps 139:13-14. “…you knit me together in my mother’s womb….” And then the comments for the day:
“Perhaps you are knitting a sweater as you await a grandchild’s birth. You have not seen his face, but you know he is a boy. You knit each stitch and pray for your grandson. You already love him and know that he will be a delight to his parents…But God is doing much more to prepare. He is creating this little boy and knitting his cells together in the womb. He has plans and a purpose for this little life.”
Well, that stopped my tears. I had no idea what these words had to do with dieting or a healthy lifestyle, but there was no doubt in my mind Who had intended for me to read them. I actually looked around the room expecting to see Jesus himself standing by my table, telling me everything was going to be okay. I couldn’t see Him but HE WAS THERE!! Yes, He was. And suddenly I was calm. Composed. Hopeful. And I knew I’d received a message from God that He was in control and there would be a baby for my baby girl. He saw my tears. He dried my tears. He held me close.
A few days later the phone rang. It was my daughter, telling me that they were meeting their baby boy that very evening. They brought him home from the hospital three days later. He had been in the newborn intensive care unit for three months. Living in the hospital next door to where I worked, and I had no clue!! A miracle extreme preemie needing a mommy and daddy. And a grandma heart just waiting to hug and kiss him. He was the boy that God was telling me about just a few days earlier.
While we wait….”God is doing much more.” We can trust the doorkeeper of the waiting room.
I could share a lot more details about the hand of God in regard to this story. So very amazing!! But I want to leave you with these words of hope that my pastor once shared: