Natalie Gwyn - Okayest Mom: When Gods Plan of Adoption Doubled My Family

N o! I no eat! I no like this! my daughter yelled in her broken English.

Overwhelmed by the chaos around me, I stood in my pajamas and cried. My counters were sticky with syrup. A glass lay on its side, slowly dripping milk onto the floor. My children were arguing. One daughter was crying. Another glared in defiance.

It was not even eight in the morning, and I was tired. Tired of all the mess. Tired of the emotional drain. Tired of the needs surrounding me. Who were these children? Why did they ask so much of me? How had I ended up here? God, why did You think I could do this? Are You sure You chose the right woman for the job? I dont think I was cut out to be a mom to these six children. Its too hard.

On paper, I certainly wasnt the best applicant. My rsum included the character qualities of selfish and impatient. My work history stated: Plotted her own course through life. Self-sufficient. Doesnt need to rely on others to get the job done.

But God skipped over those qualifications and focused on the small print. He looked at me and saw instead loving, joyful, and resilient. And most important, He saw the quality He seeks in every applicant for every task He has called us to. He looked at me and saw willing. That was all it took.

He assigned me to be a mother to these six children, and with that and one signature from a judge in Ethiopia, my life was changed forever. Seemingly overnight, I had gone from having two children, who began their lives in my womb, to six, four of whom were born in a rural hut in Ethiopia and did not yet speak English. Six children with such different histories, now part of the same family. Six children who needed me to love them, even if I didnt always feel loving.

We had been together as a family for only a few weeks. It was not going well.

I somehow had to raise these children. Educate all six. I had to teach my new children English, the alphabet, and how to read. I also had to teach them how to use indoor plumbing and the value of toilet paper, but maybe I would leave that for tomorrow.

I turned my back to the disaster and reached for my phone. I had an incoming text from my friends. My dear, sweet, encouraging friends. They were inviting me to join their Bible study. They met every Thursday morning from nine to eleven and were working their way through the book of Matthew. Would I like to join them?

Their few words spelled out how drastically my life had changed. Tears and resentment overflowed as I realized I would have no more Thursday morning Bible studies. No more coffee dates. No more girls nights out. My time was not my own. My life was not my own. For the foreseeable future, my life belonged to these children. These children who needed me more than they would admit. They needed a mother to be close, even when they pushed away with their words and actions. God had entrusted these six children to my care.

What in the world was He thinking?

As I stood surrounded by sticky countertops and defiant children, reading those words that signaled an end to my old life, I felt God remind me that my life is not my own. I belong to Him. In the years to come He would have to remind me of this over and over again as I began a daily, sometimes hourly practice of putting aside my own desires to run the race set before me.

Late in the book of Acts, Paul bade good-bye to his friends in Ephesus as he followed Gods leading and stepped into a new ministry. Although he knew God was calling him to Jerusalem, he had no idea what the journey might hold: