That fateful day in May

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

     This morning Psalm 38:18 was the first thing I read as I started my devo time. My heart pricked. My memories flooded back. You see 5 years ago today was the hardest, most hurtful day of my life. A day whose events gave me emotional and physical pain for months to come. But also a day where God's loving and compassionate hand was directing my path.
     
     Don and I woke up early that morning for what was going to be a day of adventure. Our daughter and her husband were returning from Guatemala and needed to be picked up at LaGuardia Airport later that evening so we headed to, as my facebook "memory" states, to do some exploring. 
     
     As some of you may know I'm adopted. A few years prior to this day I had found out who my birth mom was and had tried to reach out to her. She did not respond to phone calls, or letters.  This day I figured we just go to her home and knock... Gutsy I know. She lives in New Jersey and it was sort of on the way to New York (ok really not on the way but New Jersey is between PA and NY). We had left early enough to give plenty of time for a joyous reunion full of hugs and tears. Who wouldn't want to meet their daughter???

     We arrived late morning and prayed. My sweet husband decided that he should go and knock on her door and ask if she knew who I was and if she wanted to meet me.  So I sat in the car. Prayed. Shook with nerves and excitement..... This would be the day, closure, joy, reconciliation (that was my word for 2015). I waited. He knocked on the door. I was too far away to see her or hear anything. He asked her if he knew who I was.  She said no. He told her that I believed that I was her daughter and would she like to meet me. She said no and shut the door on him (verifying to me that I was hers). As he walked back to the car I could see her silhouette in her window looking at our car. Don walked slowly and I kept motioning with my hand thumbs up or down. He gave no response. I believe he was trying to figure out how to tell me that my own mother didn't want to meet me. 
    
    He got in the car and told me everything. I was numb. People at the Bible study I attended were the only ones who know of our plan and were praying all morning for this... How could this be?! Where is my happy ending. 

     My heart was broken. There was physical pain from this broken heart.

     So we drove. We drove to Long Island, to "home", to the place I grew up and was raised by the parents who loved me, who had chosen me, who wanted me but were now buried in the cemetery there. We drove a bit and ended up at my friend Wendy's house. She wasn't there but her husband was. We chatted and waited. When she came I poured out everything. 

     God knew this was the day that if this was to happen May 15 2015 would be the perfect day. God had ordained there to be a celebration that evening at the church I grow up at.  I celebration of the church's heritage, of all those who had been a part of it's history.  We went. I sat in the sanctuary next to Wendy and she turned to me and said "God knew what would happen today and knew where you needed to be. Surrounded by people who love you" (we talked about this day recently and she doesn't remember saying that, she was going through a trial of her own).  After the presentation we went to the "gym" where her and I had spent so much time. I was surrounded by people who were surprised and happy to see me, some who had loved me  from the time they heard my parents were going to adopt me. Only a few knew what had happened that morning. They all just loved on me. God knew where I needed to be. 

     We left and went to airport to pick up the kids. Still hurting, still numb. 

     The next few months my heart ached.  I was in such pain my body hurt. My Bible study was very surprised that there wasn't a happy ending. I started to tell people of the events. One person commented that I understand better than most the rejection Jesus felt on the cross. Some words helped, some didn't and as I was hurting, people went on. I cried most days. One day I had a wake up moment and realized I needed God's help, He needed to heal my broken heart. I was driving to work one day and saw the underpass I drive through everyday. During those rough patches in teenagedom I would often think of just driving into one and ending it. This day that thought crossed into my mind. For a few days I went a different way, And I started to tell people and they prayed. God had started to heal my heart and pain faded away.

     Now five years have passed. I've tried to reach out to her a few times, Sent pictures of her great grandsons, asked some medical questions. Still she is silent. I pray for her often. I stalk her on facebook once in a while (she rarely posts anything I can see)  I debate reaching out to two sisters that may not know I exist . So much joy has entered my life. Two adorable grandsons, a peaceful home on the mountain, a husband who protects, friends who remember and prayed for me today. 

      5-15-15 will always be a day that almost broke me.  But God saves the crushed in spirit.

      If you are broken, God loves you. No thing you go through can separate you from His love (Romans 8:31-39). And God, unlike my birth mom, will never reject you (Isaiah 49:15). If you knock on His door(Rev 3:30), He will know who you are, He knows your name (Isaiah 43:1),  He will embrace you with His amazing love. Restore to you joy (Psalm 51:8) and peace (Philippians 4:7) . 

     If you need to talk... I'll listen. But most importantly so will God. 

Picture taken from the Town Dock of my home town that week.

A place I can go and find peace.