Have you ever read The Bean Trees by Barbra Kingsolver? It’s a charming book about a quirky
lady who drives across the country in a car — with no windows I might add — to find a
different narrative for her life other than the one her small town paints. She is literally given a
small American Indian child in route and decides to adopt her. The child will not speak but
clings to Taylor (the protagonist) with all she has. Not able to discern the child’s name, Taylor
calls her Turtle. The story is a beautiful picture of how our life can turn out so very differently
than we think in the best of ways. I should know.
At the very beginning of our journey into adoption, I decided to nickname my future kid “Turtle.”
I had read The Bean Trees around that time and so the name stuck. I liked the idea of my child
having a name. It made he or she sound more real to me — as if it wasn’t just a dream or an
idea, but a real baby growing inside my heart and someone else’s womb.
The turtle became the image for our story. These shelled creatures were plastered over our
nursery walls that we so carefully prepared. They were on every poster for every fundraiser. I
would write letters to the child with a different shell that I addressed, “Dear Turtle.” There were
times when I didn’t bother picking a name because I knew we would call them Turtle forever
and it would be a way to tell them that we had been anxiously awaiting them and preparing a
place for them.
“Turtle” was the worst nickname I could have picked. Turtles are slow, as was our adoption. It
still hasn’t happened yet, two years later. After our adoption consultants dropped us in the dirt,
we felt like Turtle should have been a dream — maybe we were wrong and that Turtle would be
something that we could pray for, but may never see. The acceptance of the possibility that
children may not happen to you is devastating to say the least. The idea that I would always be
the aunt and never the mother haunted me to the very core and to be honest there are days
where I haven’t fully recovered.
But God…
Don’t you love those words?
Don’t misunderstand me. This isn’t the part where I tell you we had a magical pregnancy or
that an adoption that you hear about on Oprah fell into our lap. God is still writing our story.
Throughout the summer, we took some time to heal and pray from adoption and seek out what
our next step would be. I was at the beach with a friend and saw a thumb ring with — you
guessed it — turtles. I bought it as a symbol of hope that someday our child was going to find
us, and that I was not giving up. The ring meant so much to me because it represented
something I still longed for and believed would happen. I wore it every day and often fiddled
with it to reassure myself that God is good and Turtle is coming.
Last week I was preparing for Trunk or Treat, as is custom this time of year. It was pouring rain
outside and cold. Signs of autumn were everywhere and I was relishing the day. I entered the
Dollar Tree in my squeaky rain coat and combat boots. I got my Halloween purchases and
made my way to the counter. God had been working on me you see, about something specific
in our story: Surrender.
We had gone rounds on the subject. I told Him that I had laid our child down at the altar more
than once and that I was fine. He reassured me that I hadn’t. I was frustrated because I didn’t
understand what other grand gesture I was to do to show God that I was indeed confident in
Him and His plan. Around and around we went.
In the Dollar Tree that day I came face to face with such a gesture. Her name was Angela.
She was the cashier. Her blond hair was pulled back loosely and her eyes showed me that her
life had not been easy. I had bought table cloths to hang as a spooky back drop in our trunks.
She began to chat about how nice the Dollar Tree table cloths were and that she loved them for
so many things. I agreed. They really are wonderful. Angela spoke of how she bought a couple
for a birthday party for a friend in her AA meetings. She told me that she lived at the shelter
and that a friend of hers was down in the dumps. She bought the table cloths with her last
couple of dollars she stated proudly as a way to cheer her up. Then the story turned. Angela’s
friends had tried to pay her for the table cloths but she refused. She said that God had given
her the money for them and she wanted to bless someone else with what He had provided.
She wanted to “pay it forward.” Angela told me another story of how she wanted to leave her
last job due to tension between she and the manager, and before she interviewed at the Dollar
Tree she thanked God for giving her this job.
This woman had shown me something about God that I hadn’t seen in a long time. She was
willing to give all she had for someone else. When do I do that? Do I give to the extent that it
hurts? Do I live my life that God will give me my daily bread?
Suddenly with this experience I was confronted by the same lesson the Lord had been guiding
me through; surrender.
Angela broke my trance with a “Oh I love your ring! I love turtles” she exclaimed. I wiped a tear
away from my misty eye and followed her gaze to my turtle ring. The one I held so very
precious to my heart of hope. Then the Lord whispered ever so gently, “give her the ring.”
I am embarrassed to say, it took me a minute to obey. Rebellious to the end I suppose. I tossed
off the subtle nudging from the Holy Spirit to ‘mixed emotions’ from the revelation I took from
her story. “Lord,” I argued, “this ring holds a lot of hope for me. You know this. Why should I
give it to her?” Bless my heart I am stubborn!
I made it as far as the parking lot before I turned back. I stood in the rain holding my trunk or
treat purchases letting God’s grace wash over me. I’m sure other people got amusement from
this crazy lady standing in the rain not moving in either direction.
And crazy I was for even thinking of saying ‘no’ to God.
I turned around, swallowed my pride, and found Angela. I told her that the Lord had prompted
me to give her the ring and that I was touched by her own surrender of herself and finances to
Jesus. She hugged me and thanked me. This wasn’t about me giving something to someone
who was in need; I was the one in need. I need to be more like Angela. I need to be quick to
obey and not quick to determine I know better than God. That I somehow know what’s best
and He just makes suggestions.
Then I left the store and I went on about my day. There wasn’t a grand sign or Hallmark
moment, there was just Angela. She was my vessel of surrender. Obedience and surrender of
the dream of motherhood. It didn’t happen in this “ah-ha” moment or a tear stricken confession
at an altar. It happened in a Dollar Tree on a rainy Friday that I finally surrendered Turtle to
Jesus. God isn’t waiting for you to make this huge religious outcry to surrender your heart to
Him, sometimes it takes the form of a small turtle ring.
I haven’t given up on the dream of adoption nor children. Giving up that ring wasn’t a sign of
emptiness or regret. It was an act of freedom. I didn’t want to carry this burden any more. I
didn’t want to hold this weight of empty longing that I had allowed to become the focus of my
life and an idol at that. God had been trying to teach me this — to make me let it go for my own
good and for His glory.
I still look for the ring at times absentmindedly, but I am reminded through it’s absence that
God is good. He is good to me and He is making me more like Him every single day. I’m not
perfect and I know there will be other times where I won’t be so quick to obey. I continue to
wait for Turtle or even Turtles, but more importantly I am praising God in this hallway and living
this season in each moment.
When we wait for something, it can control us. We can spend years fixating on this one thing
we don’t have, that we lose the beautiful picture of what we already have. Don’t worship what
you’re waiting for friends. Don’t make my mistake. If you did, it’s ok, we serve a God of
forgiveness. Today, take a walk, try a new coffee flavor, embrace your spouse or your child or
your dog or your books! Breathe in the planned moment that God is showing you today. Try to
go a whole day without fixating on what you’re waiting for. And when He calls you to give up
your turtle ring, do it right away, and find freedom in the act of surrendering.