Happy Birthday, Kristie!

“We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, and who have been called according to His purposes” (Romans 8:28).

The photo was tucked into a book, and unexpectedly, Allie discovered it.

“Who’s this?” she asked, holding the photo up for me to see.

For a moment, I fell silent, and in only a few seconds, the memories of her flashed across my mind. “Her name’s Kristie,” I finally answered.

“Do I know her?” Allie asked.

“No, Honey — you never met her.”

And with that, Allie’s attention turned elsewhere. But although she’d moved on, I was left pondering the irony of those brief moments.

I’d been thinking about Kristie, whose fourteenth birthday was yesterday. She’s never far from my mind.

It’s been almost seven years since she left. And what remains are the memories of our year with her — trips and snuggles and yes, even spankings. (There were only a few.)

Oh, how she loved our dogs Annabelle and Jack. Just like Allie, Kristie had a way with animals. I remember thinking after she’d gone, “I bet she really misses them.” And she probably did.

She’d come, like Allie, unexpectedly — though not nearly as quickly. A friend knew of a situation where a grandma, who’d adopted her 2-year old granddaughter, was looking for a permanent placement for her (by then) 6-year old girl.

Were we interested?

A daughter? Oh, yes!

So we began by spending time with Kristie — having her for weekends in late 2006. And by the summer of 2007, she’d come to live with us. We made a room ready for her, and she called us ‘Mommy’… ‘Daddy.’

Adoption papers were signed and we waited.

And waited…

And waited…

But the adoption was never finalized. Kristie’s grandmother, who’d been ill, got better. For her, hope returned… and with it, so did Kristie.

Sometimes there just aren’t’ adequate answers to our questions. I’ve come to understand this. And where I’m still one who tends toward pushing to know, I’ve learned that, often times, our struggle to find truth is like swimming against the current of rapidly moving water.

You get no where fast.

And in the struggle, we’re apt to drown.

And so, I’ve learned to allow the water of life — the Living (Loving) Water — to take me where He will. Yes, sometimes I panic and thrash. But mostly, I just try to look up and see the Son’s light through the trees and allow the warmth of His love to embrace me and heal the broken places.

Maybe it’s a cop out. Maybe I should be more questioning and truth-seeking. But really, if I trust that there is a plan — a perfect plan — for my future, as well as for those I love (including Kristie), then it’s easier to float. (And I often say about those questions, “That’s something I’ll ask God one day, when I’m in Heaven.” And maybe I will. Yet, maybe I won’t. Maybe… just maybe it won’t even matter anymore.)

Last night I made a call. I hadn’t dialed that number in years and years and years. And though no one answered, I left a message. “Hi. This is Maureen. I was calling to tell Kristie ‘Happy birthday’ and to let her know that I’m thinking of her. If she’d like to call me back, I’d love to talk to her…”

And I would.

It’s a step…

This morning, things seem more clear even than yesterday. And her question comes back to me, “Do I know her, Momma?”

And though I don’t say it aloud, I can answer in my heart, “No, Allie. And though I did, even for only a short time, I’d probably never have met you and called you ‘My Girl’ if she’d stayed…”

And I look up and see the rays of His love and the ways of His hand.

And I’m at peace.