My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.

James 1:19-20

Right. Got it. But that’s just. so. hard. When you’re in the throes of what feels like righteous emotion, that deep feeling in your gut you’re deliberately allowing to rage unchecked because you simply can’t seem to stop it… how do you stop it? Every time I look back and think of the times I’ve exploded, I can find the source: insecurity, selfishness, or worry being my top three culprits. Finding and cutting these out of my heart is imperative to following the dictates of this verse.

We’re constantly (constantly) telling the girls why there are rules in the Bible and why we subsequently have rules for them. We love them as God loves us, and those rules keep them (and us) safe from the world and from themselves. Those rules help them (and us) to thrive in the beautiful and peaceful life he wants for us. Not an easy life, a peaceful life. When God tells us not to worry, he’s not flippantly chucking an impossible rule at us. He’s trying to keep us mentally healthy and solidly inside a righteous life.

April 24 was a day I looked forward to and dreaded in equal amounts. We were going to court (again) to try to finalize the adoption (again). I had very little hope it would actually happen because, well, PNG. It seemed as if there was a bottomless bucket of things that could go wrong, no matter how buttoned up we felt our case to be. On the eve of April 23, we called our lawyer to double check on times and try to get a feel for what we were facing. He called back and let us know our case was no longer on April 24, but was unexpectedly moved to the 23^rd at 4pm. That’s good, right? We felt hopeful. When we showed up at 3:45 with all the girls in tow wearing matching dresses and a friend along to hold their hands, it was hot. Very hot. The small waiting area just outside was full of people with cases scheduled for the 4pm time slot and we were tenth on the list. Immediately we felt frustrated and disappointed. Our case had progressed to the point where we thought it would be a private sitting, but clearly we were in the middle of the public session. Why??

Our lawyer went inside to see what was going on and came out shaking his head. The previous session had twenty cases left. My worry rose and with it came edgings of anger. Eventually, we sent Ray and Willa off with our friend to help set up for a teammate’s birthday dinner. We were disappointed they wouldn’t be with us for the final drop of the gavel, but it mattered more to us to finish.

Finally, the court clerk called us in with the few other people choosing to stay and be heard that evening. Many chose to go home and come back another day. As a result, we were now third on the list and my heart lightened. Brian went inside the courtroom with our lawyer while I stayed and wandered around watching court cats with Gemma. There were a lot. She was loud and restless, steadily slipping down into a realm of fussiness I did not want to put on display for the judge. My anxiety went back up as minutes passed and she got crankier. Then an hour. Brian texted and said one man, the case just ahead of ours, went way over the time limit reading his entire application. Pages and pages and pages. Shortly after, another text came telling us to join him. Yes!!! It IS going to happen!! I walked into the blue-walled and blue-carpeted courtroom with its blasting AC and anemic 1970s feel, but I didn’t care what it looked or felt like. I was inside, which meant we were going to stand before the judge and do this! The room was empty of other applicants when the judge, after looking up and scanning the room himself, asked, “Is the adoption case here and present?”

I looked behind me to see if anyone else was around. Nope. Just us. With our baby. Yes. Yes, the adoption applicants are here. Frustration popped right back up as I realized (or thought I realized) the judge had no memory of our case or us. Here we are, before you again, the only people in the room, and you’re asking if we’re here. I knew somewhere in my reasonable heart that it must be a matter of recording the question and the answer, but it felt ridiculous. A suspicion that we were going to walk away with no progress (again) washed over me. My reasonable heart simply left the room. The worry was gone and there was no room for frustration or hopelessness either. Anger was front and center oozing into every corner.

Without hardly looking at us, the judge interacted with our lawyer and set a new time for our case to be heard. I felt my hands trembling as I tried desperately not to cry. I looked at Gemma, the floor, Gemma, the floor. Tears were coming whether I wanted them or not. I shuffled out after Brian, head down barely hearing what the lawyer was saying. We would come back tomorrow. Same time.

It bubbled over in the car. I spent the entire ride home yelling. Raging. Crying. Letting it all go. Most people would say, “Yep, girl. You gotta let that out.” Did I? No, not exactly like that. Not in that way. I was feeling emotions and that was okay. Of course I was feeling things. Brian was and the girls would be. It was sad and frustrating!! However, I could have followed Scripture and had some self-control. I talk to the girls about good tears and bad tears. I don’t believe any and all signs of emotion are bad, but when it’s anger and when it’s raging… that is bad. Proverbs 17:27 says, “A man of knowledge uses words with restraint, and a man of understanding is even-tempered.” Even-tempered. Not high, not low. Even. In the evenness is peace. In the evenness, we can see clearly. I couldn’t see clearly and didn’t even want to. I wanted to wallow in the rage because it belonged to me. The guy was a jerk to not just finish it. Why would you not just finish it???

We showed up at 4pm the next day. We were first. We walked straight into the frigid room with our friend there to help with Ray and Willa. A few people scheduled to go before the judge in our same time slot trickled in after us. The court clerks ran them out saying the first case was a closed session as a family matter and family matters are always private. Well, yes, thank you. That’s what we thought.

The judge walked in, dismissed with the formality of our lawyer reading the application, and instead spent the next ten minutes encouraging us and perfecting the wording of the adoption order. He clearly remembered us. He remembered the details of our case. He shared blips of our home reports that indicated we were “fine people.” He said he was thrilled to be part of getting Gemma into a loving home. It was swift and it was well done. We figured out he had dismissed our case the previous day because he wanted to take the time to do it privately and do it right. The girls were present and ever so excited to be a part of it. The whole event was better served in how he chose to do it.

Good tears and bad tears. When I raged going home, and raged for a goodly amount of time at home, there were good tears in there. It has been a hard road. Those tears were cathartic in the sadness that it was still unfinished and, ultimately, a gift from God. However, when we stop being even-tempered and allow the uncontrolled emotions fueled by a lack of trust in God to reign, the bad tears flow. God has our best in mind. All things, whether good or bad, long or easy, work for the good of those who love him. Just as discipline for the girls, though tear-filled and miserable at the time, are working for their good down the long road of life, so the things that happen to us in this life, good and bad, are working towards our own eternal good. The huge expenditure of energy I put out on April 23^rd was unnecessary. God had a plan. Now we move forward with even tempers trying our best to disallow the rage from winning.

Next steps won’t come until May 2020. At that point, we will begin working with the USCIS to make Gemma a US citizen. I foresee as much nail biting and worry as ever happened during this first hurdle (adopting her). No one can take her from us now, not even the judge who made the order. She is ours no matter her country of citizenship. However, I’m a worrier. That I don’t have to worry about her “being ours” anymore doesn’t mean I won’t worry about the citizenship process. But I welcome another chance to learn about living the life of an even-tempered and self-controlled person, fully trusting her life to God. And what a God we serve, to give us good gifts (Gemma’s final adoption) despite ourselves.