I had a dream a few weeks back that I wrote a book, published and bound, but with only six chapters completed and scores of blank pages towards the back, not yet written. The name of the book was Waiting.
God speaking through dreams is not a new thing, in fact for right now at least I’d prefer it to a burning bush or a donkey. Now I don’t believe that all dreams carry an exact literal interpretation. For example, this book called Waiting is not something I actually think I’ll write; although I’m inadvertently accumulating material for such a book. There’s a bigger theme to it all. Something I know God wants me to search out.
The point of this post: to tell you that my mark, the one thing that distinguishes me from the next person, is illegible.
A sympathetic email from our social worker today told me that the fingerprints (one of three sets required) I submitted came back, after 6 long weeks, as illegible. I wonder if I wash my hands too much? (The competitive side of me trying to determine what I did different than Nate that would make mine come back wrong and his pass with flying colors.)
When we went to get them done, the mug-shots still on the screen (yes, fingerprints are electronic these days … it’s pretty cool) were of a fratty-looking southern boy, eyes blood-shot and clearly ruffled from his previous night’s endeavors. Bet he wished his fingerprints were illegible.
What does this mean for us? More waiting …
These fingerprints need to be approved for our homestudy to be completed, for us to file for immigration, for our dossier to be finalized and translated, for us to get our referral. And I’ve got to now do them over again.
Although this whole thing may appear just like chance as we’re huddled around the bingo hopper waiting for it to spit out B7, I know there’s more to it than that. At the risk of sounding like a broken record: This, all of it, is worth it — not just for what will come in the end with the girls, but for what it’s producing in US.
As is true for most everything, this has taken me some time tonight to process and get beyond just being “grumpy-pumpy pants”, as we call it in our house. (Don’t take the nickname too far, I stole it from my niece.)
This waiting is serving a purpose in me and in Nate. I feel like I second-guess the prayers I’ve prayed for years now, saying “God, I want more of you …whatever it takes” almost every day when I look at some of the implications. But in the very still of my heart I know that I want to be one who is changed by Him more than I want easy circumstances.
So, let the games … continue to wait to begin.
That’s a bugger of a deal. It seems like my first reaction is always that (bugger of a deal kind of reaction). It takes a process in me to come to the realization that you just posted about. Wonder if that realization ever becomes our first reaction…Sigh. Our prayers really are being answered aren’t they?! It just NEVER looks like we expect it to.