Not very long ago we celebrated the unexpected gift of an extra teen girl living with us. I will call her Valerie to protect her identity. The Lord moved us to throw our arms wide open to embrace an opportunity to be family to her, and we were blessed to enjoy that budding relationship for nearly 6 weeks. Then, without warning, Valerie was gone, returning to the very place from which she had sought refuge. She simply packed her bags and said, "Sorry it didn't work out." No explanation; no tearful good-bye; no "Wow, guys, I sure appreciate all that you've done, and sure will miss you." Just a quick good-bye, and not a phone call since.
One week has passed and our notes of encouragement and offers of help have been ignored. The girl who shared all our meals and slept under our roof all those weeks won't even return our texts.
I can't help but puzzle over the meaning of it all. We feel as if we did all we could do, and even by a stretch of our imaginations can't see anything we did wrong, or to offend. Perhaps what is most puzzling is that none of this was our idea in the first place, and yet now that she is gone I miss her so much.
Many years ago, a few years before my first daughter was born, my husband and I experienced an unexpected pregnancy. Though we were caught a bit by surprise and were slightly panicky at first, in a very short time we found ourselves excited by the news - all the new possibilities! Would we have a girl or a boy? What names did we like? Which room would become the baby's room? How would this affect our job situations? We were almost to the stage of sharing the news of the baby with more than close family when ... all of a sudden ... I started bleeding, and it didn't stop. And when they said the baby was not alive anymore, I started crying and could hardly stop. Why? Why would the Lord give me something I didn't ask for and then take it away? Why give me such pain? Didn't he love me?
But in a few short weeks he revealed something to me on a Sunday morning at church. As I sang through my tears, "Every good and perfect gift comes from above, from the Father of Lights," suddenly I saw this short-lived pregnancy as something more -- a good and perfect gift. I didn't want to believe it at first. I was still upset and confused. But in His mercy, in that moment, the Lord showed me that sometimes the gifts don't come in the packages that we would expect or choose. My short-lived pregnancy was more than a cause of grief. A life of only 9 weeks was a true gift -- worth more than no life at all. The Lord began to show me how this gift helped me to change my perspective, to begin to make plans for a career change that would be a blessing to my children to come. This gift softened my heart and my husband's heart, too, to embracing parenthood sooner. This gift also meant that in eternity we will be united with a child whom we didn't get to meet while on earth. And with all this revelation came unexpected joy -- joy mingled with tears for a "good and perfect gift" from my Father.
And as I reflect on that gift of 20 years ago, I see the glimmer of revelation dawning right now. Our unexpected (and unplanned) time with "Valerie" brought joy and perspective, not just for us, but for all of our children. This time brought us close together and caused us to be more purposeful in our family times. This time opened our eyes to see things beyond our own home that perhaps we thought so far away and foreign to us, but now we know the love of the Father in those situations is so much bigger than any fear or "impossibility."
I'm not quite ready to fully let go of all the possibilities I had imagined for us with Valerie as part of our family. I still harbor a hope that this apparent ending is not really the end. Perhaps there is an undetected heartbeat for this relationship. A few of my friends would say so. But either way I do feel peace today -- peace that this time was indeed a good and perfect gift -- and peace that even if I don't see the reward of this time here on earth, we will be family in eternity.
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