One specific event is the main impetus for this post. In August 2005, Hurricane Katrina struck the Gulf Coast and devastated New Orleans and other parts of coastal Louisiana, Alabama and Mississippi. Not far behind, Hurricane Rita came to devastate Texas, and pelt Louisiana once again. I saw the news on TV. I saw the footage of families stuck on their roofs awaiting rescue. I saw the photos and videos of looting, of bodies lying in the street, sometimes covered with a white sheet, sometimes not. I read the horrible stories of families crammed into shelters just trying to survive. Then, one day, standing in the hallway at church, the tragedy hit me in a whole new way. I discovered a bulliten board advertising my own church's missions to the area. And I felt God tap me on the shoulder and say "Katie. I want you to go."
As I did when God called my to adoption, I shook my head and said to Him, "No, I can't do that. That is not for me. It is too hard. I cannot do it." And as He did when He called me to adoption, He never relented until I was bent to His will. With a shaking hand, I put my name on that list. Seventeen years old. The girl who had panic attacks when she traveled. The girl who cried spending a week away at a fun summer camp just a few years earlier. All reason said that this trip wasn't for me, but God spoke louder, and He told me to go. Further, He made a way for me to go. I want to share with you a couple brief stories about how God cleared my path to make that trip.
One of the things holding me back initially was the cost. I spoke to someone in charge of missions at our church, telling them that I wanted to go, that I felt called to go, but that the price was going to be an issue. I was told I could apply for a scholarship. This eased my mind a bit and I waited for further word on what I needed to do. Then, a few days later, without any further discussion, I was told that I was fully funded. I needed supplies, but the cost of the trip was paid in full.
Praise God!
Then, having been given this amazing gift, I determined to be able to obtain my supplies. It was hard, and by the time we had the money it was somewhat last minute. Only the week before the trip, I went to a store with my family in search of steel toed boots. Now, let's get something straight here. I'm not a big, strapping, muscular woman. I took karate and I can hold my own, but at 5'1" and 80 lbs, I'm petite to say the least. My feet are no exception. I wear a women's size five or six. I can still buy shoes in the children's section if I want to. How on earth was I going to find a steel toed boot in a women's five or six?
So we went to the store, and just as I expected, there were shelves and shelves of steel toed boots for both men and women... in sizes upward of 9. I tried one of the women's 9's. I thought, maybe, if I wear thick enough socks, I can make these work.
Well, there's no point to steel toed boots when your toes aren't anywhere near the steel. Those boots would have been a greater hazard than going barefoot.
Feeling defeated, I looked the shelves upon shelves of 9's, 10's, 11's, up and down. Then...
WOMEN'S SIZE 5
No way. No. No way.
Seriously? No way.
I scanned the rest of the shelves. That was the only box below a 9. I pulled it out. I was sure it had to be a box from another shoe, misplaced. Clearly, they just didn't make steel toed boots for wisps of women like me. I opened the box.
There was no mix up. They were the same boots. Would they fit? I tried them on.
Like a glove.
Out of hundreds of pairs of boots made for men and women bigger and tougher than myself, on a night less than a week before I left to go off into a disaster area, there was ONE perfect pair of boots, in MY SIZE.
That night, I looked up to the Heavens, and I thought... I hear you, God. You called me. I said Yes. You made a way. Thank You.
I wish I could sit here and tell you all that I went to New Orleans and triumphed over the perils of disaster, helped the helpless, fulfilled what I thought was God's plan for me. But I can't. Because, sometimes, God's plan isn't quite what we think it is. Sometimes, God leads us down a road, and we think we know where we're going, until the road veers off sharply to the left... and He is still with us, but we're left confused, wondering what happened to that road God sent us walking down to begin with. That is what happened in New Orleans.
The details are unimportant. I could spend pages and pages telling of the devastation I saw there. I could attest to how truly unprepared I really was for what I was going to see and experience. I could explain exactly what triggered my panic attacks, who helped, who made it worse. I could point fingers and assign blame. I could adopt a defeatist attitude and proclaim that I failed God. But none of that is what this post is about.
I left on a Saturday morning. I arrived at camp on Sunday night. I had my first panic attack on Sunday morning. I went to my first day on the jobsite on Monday morning, bright and early. I had my second, and worst, panic attack, before lunchtime. I wasn't prepared for that trip. I wasn't prepared for what I was going to see. I wasn't prepared for the attitudes I was going to encounter. From then on, the next 24 hours were a continuous state of panic. It became clear that I couldn't handle the mission. I felt unsupported, misunderstood and alone. On Tuesday afternoon, I flew home early.
This is the part I don't talk about - because I don't want to point fingers or assign blame - but it's an important part of the story. When I left, I was told many things by many people. At the time, I was hurt and bewildered and upset with those who were at that camp with me. Now, nearly six years later, I forgive those who I feel did me wrong, and I recognize that they did not set out to hurt me - they just didn't understand what I needed... and how could they, when I was so unprepared myself?
I was told, most vehemently, that I was letting God down. Sometimes words were minced, sometimes they weren't. At least once, those exact words were said to me. "If you leave, you are letting God down." "If you leave, you are ignoring what God called you to do." "If you leave, you are going against God's plan."
Another thing I was told, is that I needed to "get over it". Again, sometimes words were minced, sometimes they were not. I was told that I was being childish and petty, and that eventually I would have to get used to leaving my home and my family. I was asked, "What are you going to do when you go to College?" "What are you going to do when your mom dies?" And to a scared teenager in the midst of a panic attack, nothing could have been more frightening. I was told "You have to deal with this now or you never will." Then and now, I ask myself, deal with what? My panic attacks? By ignoring them? Panic attacks are a medical issue. They are like low blood sugar or epilepsy. They need treatment by doctors, therapy and medication. "Tough it out" has never gotten anyone through a seizure.
Again, I don't want it to sound like I am assigning blame on those who said those things. I truly believe that they felt they were helping, in the best way they knew how. But as unprepared as I was for what I was going to deal with in New Orleans, they were similarly unprepared for what they were going to deal with in me. The fault is no one's.
Further I say to those remarks - "You are letting God down"... "You are abandoning God's plan..." Do any of us ever really know what God's plan is? Yes, I felt a calling to go on that trip. I still fully believe that it was God's plan for me to go on that trip, regardless of how it ended. But why God wanted me on that trip? Well, I can hazard a guess, but truly that is known to Him and Him only. I thought it was to help the people of New Orleans. To rip out drywall, carry out waterlogged belongings, decide what to save and what to throw away. So did everyone I was with. But maybe we were wrong. Maybe God had something bigger in mind all along. Maybe He meant for me to go home early. Maybe He meant for me to experience that panic, to realize my limitations. To the remarks that "If you don't deal with this now, you never will" and "What's going to happen when your mom isn't there?" ... I say... I did deal with it then. I didn't deal with it in the way others expected me to, but I did deal with it. It was an eye opening experience. I realized how limited I still was in my ability to be independent. And when I got home, where I was comfortable and in a state of readiness to learn, I worked on those things.
For anyone who may still doubt that what happened was all in God's plan, let me tell you a few things that happened because of that trip, because of how it ended, that might not have happened if I had "toughed it out" or pushed myself beyond my limits.
1. I survived. Yes, there was a question as to this. I was a troubled teenager, I'll be honest. Panic attacks make you lose your reason. I was pushed to the edge. Any further and I might have been pushed off. But I wasn't. Six years later, I'm still here.
2. I sought further help for my panic attacks, learning my limitations and how to stretch them without pushing myself too far. Since then I have made three solo vacations - something I could have never done if I'd been trapped in a bad situation and felt that once I left home, I was without recourse. Those trips stretched my limits. I had at least one panic attack, but it was mild and I was in an environment in which it was possible to fight it off. I gained coping skills. I gained experience. I dared to leave the nest again, which I might not have done if I had been further traumatized by the rest of the week in an environment I couldn't handle.
2a. Because I stretched those limits, I have more confidence in myself and my independence now. I know what triggers my panic attacks and what tools I can use to combat them. I'm far better prepared for all future trips.
3. I stayed home for college. Some might see this as a missed opportunity. I do not. Because while friends who went away to college were doing this:
Credit: Google Image
I was doing this:
I wouldn't have been there for that moment if I'd gone away to college. And that one moment right there... makes every single thing I went through in New Orleans worth it. And you know what? There are thousands and thousands of other moments just like it.
Guess who had never had a birthday party before.
...Yes, I'm glad I didn't go away to college.
4. Because of what I learned about myself, how far I've come, the changes I've made, the preparedness that I have now that I didn't have when I went to New Orleans...
I am being prepared for adoption. Yes, God prepared my heart for adoption by walking with me as I did what many said was "letting Him down". God... had a bigger plan for me... than I had for myself.
So, I'm done hiding in the shadows and pretending that trip didn't happen. I'm done pretending I wasn't hurt. Because I was hurt. There was trauma. I was unprepared. I did go home. But I did not let God down. I walked down that path he led me down, even as it veered off to the left and I didn't know where it was going. And as I walked... God prepared me for callings I didn't even know I would find. So to those of you who doubt my ability to go through the adoption journey, to those of you who says "But what about what happened in New Orleans?"... I say - that was just another piece of the puzzle. That was God preparing me, in His grand scheme, to do what I had no idea I would be called to do. Without going into the details of what I did to put myself in a better state than I was when I left for that trip, know that I did, and I am. That trip, as much as it showed me what I couldn't do, it showed me what I could. It's not a reason why I can't or shouldn't adopt, it's one more reason why I should. To those who doubt... to those who say I still can't do it... I say...
Watch me.
