Wednesday, May 3, 2017


I have these overwhelming moments inside me where I think I cant do this anymore. I never say them, I don't show them but its their. I spent 3 days in a fog last week, trying to find a balance between my flesh and the honesty that life can just hurt at times, and my spirit. The spirit of God that gives hope, stirs up fire inside you or tells you when its just time to be still.

I was on the edge of sadness, darkness and self pity tonight and surely the Lord had a watchful eye on me because he responded, as he always does, at just the right moment.

I closed my eyes, tears swelling up inside my soul like a volcano feeling it all. Id gone to Missouri to visit family in March bringing Finley with me. It had been almost 2 years since id taken her with me and now 14 months since my moms stroke. I watched as my mom searched to know us. Waiting for her mind to spark some remembrance of who my daughter and I were, but in 3 days it never did. I looked back inside the window at her as Finley and I played together in the falling snow, wondering if we would be gone from her mind forever, or at least until eternity. I hold back the pain of seeing my mother like this. I do it so my daughter wont be scared. I do it because now isn't the place. I do it to not completely fall apart.

Then I thought of this adoption. Theirs been no movement since December, and my inbox is now full of dozens of new documents to be completed since its time to do another new home study. Its been 1 year already. Waiting. Hoping. I watch all the families I love growing around me and smile, sincerely happy for them and yet feeling alone on my path that looks so different than theirs. I keep myself composed. I am fine I tell myself. Seriously, I'm fine. I have to be.

I wait for Ferrill to pick us up for church. His truck, the one we waited 10 year to buy, we wrecked when we went to North Carolina a few weeks ago. A thousand thoughts happened in a flash as we swerved to miss the car in front of us, and then a power line, on coming traffic, and then a steep ditch that dropped off on the other side of the two lanes. I close my eyes taking a deep breath remembering it all. But we're okay I say out loud. I'm okay. Everything is okay.

I stand there, heavy,  full of discomfort. I want to cry. I need to cry. I should cry but I don't. Crying doesn't change my circumstances. Crying is like a hole in an already sinking ship. I'm strong. Full of perseverance and patience. I have to keep it together I tell myself, I have to keep going. In this moment I hear God speak.

I see Jesus leading me through the Red sea. I sense the fear of the unknown all around.  I feel like at any moment the walls are going to fall in on me and I see him looking back at me with peace, to see if I'm still following close behind.

Not every Israelite followed me through the Red sea you know. Their were many paths to flee Egypt, but I choose to take them this way.

Do you know what they did as they followed Moses, as he followed me?
They cried.

They cried because they did not know what was happening around them. They looked and they could not understand. They could not see what was going to happen. Even Moses cried.

I thought about this a while. We all know this story and we all know God led them through on dry land and delivered them from the Egyptian's. we all know this story, but I guess I've spent very little time actually thinking about what it must have felt like for them. 

Sharon, I'm taking you down a very particular path. Not just a path towards victory but a path of the miraculous. Every Israelite received freedom that day, but only those that followed me through the sea experienced the miraculous. They saw with their own eyes signs and wonders. Do not be afraid of what you cannot see, or what you do not understand. Follow me. Cry out to me. When I hear you cry, I am not saddened by you as though you are weak. I hear only that you trust me.

Needless to say I cried. I looked at my circumstances around me and I cried at all the things I do not understand. I cried at all the unknown ahead and how difficult and uncomfortable it is. I'm sure ill cry out to him the whole way, until I can look back and see more clearly all the miraculous things that took place. Perhaps right now I cant quit see his perfect leadership, I don't "sense" anything actually. But God, I am walking. I am still choosing to blindly follow you and the only answers I have is that you can be trusted. I will receive the promises you have for me. Help me Lord to cry out to you. Help me to keep walking. Help me to follow.

Exodus 13:17-30

Thank you for your continued prayer and support during this time of waiting.

Id like to clarify that I don't want you to feel sorry for us.  That is never my reason for sharing. Our lives are very blessed and in the midst of all this difficulty the day to day is incredibly beautiful. Our family is traveling a lot, were celebrating and getting the opportunity to do some amazing things (that's the stuff I share mostly) but I do value transparency and the truth is underneath a ton of joy and grace in this season is also great difficulty. And its typically in these difficult places that God speaks to my heart most and I find it easier for me to be transparent in my difficulty than in my joy.

Hoping you have an amazing spring


  1. Mom's mind has slowly cleared over the past week. The doctor is weening her off some medicine. Mom talked. Real words.
    I dreamed she called me by name, I pray some day it comes true. Stay strong Sharon, just don't forget you're only human.

  2. I love you. I'm with you. Praying for you guys so often. These words were what I needed to read today.

    1. You know how much we love you as well friend. So thankful were together in this.

  3. So many things here to say... but this one thing I will share, I feel your pain in the slow road of "other" that we are on in parenthood. I hold a new baby in my arms and smile for my friends, but my heart aches inside of me. I missed this season. I will never know this season. My own path is blessed and we're ok, but it's not a path like the others, and I'm sad I only have one life to live. I'm sorry your adoption has slowed. There is pain in the waiting and tears are ok. This is part of our labor but I'm sorry it hurts so much.

    1. Thanks Karena.Its nice to be reminded you're really not "alone" I enjoyed your teaching session this morning. Very affirming and practical.

  4. ❤️ Xoxo you know I love you.