The Most Dangerous Game

Have you ever played mental games with yourself? Of course. I think we all do.
Some of my most common mental chess matches include the following:
- take one step past that crack in the road while running BEFORE the next line of the song starts
- time it so you get only green lights between the interstate exit and a certain street
- try to pet the cat's belly one more time without getting scratched
- leave the kids unsupervised for one more minute (so you can start the dryer!) and see who gets injured.

In college, I always HAD to touch the ceiling of my car if I drove under a yellow light, otherwise the universe would punish me somehow. I had to poke my friends shoulder and say, "Pop-a-diddle!" if a car with only one headlight drove past.

Chad and I used to play this game in the car where we had to arrive at our destination by a certain time or our lateness would cause some catastrophe. This was before Google Maps. (Pardon me. I just threw up in my mouth a little when I realized how old that made me sound.) So if we thought we could make it by a certain time, we would pretend that a late arrival would initiate disaster.
For example: If we do not pull into the driveway by 7:20, every bunny on the planet will explode. OR If we aren't all the way across this bridge by 3:45, the puppy shelter will fill with toxic fumes.
That's one reason why he's my person. We sync.
When I first told him I played this game all the time in my head, he told me he did too. From then on, it was our default travel activity. Sometimes, we wouldn't say anything until we got to our destination. Then one of us would say something like, "Too bad we weren't two minutes earlier. Now all those baby whales are going to get pushed out of the airplane." And then we would just proceed with the evening as if we were perfectly normal humans.
Nowadays there is a game that often tempts me to play, but I resist as much as possible. Sometimes I start to play, and must shake my head in order to stop. I mentally run to another thought or distraction so as not to indulge the game. I am speaking, of course, about the 'what-if' game.
I'm sure you've played your own version.
What if I won a million dollars?
What if my book got published?
What if my child was kidnapped?
What if my spouse died?
What if I lost 30 pounds?

Sorry. Sometimes the 'what-if' game can get morbid.
We all imagine ourselves in different circumstances, either for better or for worse. The 'what-if' game isn't always dangerous. Sometimes indulging a fantasy can give us perspective or make us appreciate the things or people we take for granted. Sometimes it motivates us to set goals.
But there is one version of the 'what-if' game that is wrought with peril for adoptive parents.

What if we hadn't adopted?

At first glance, such a question may seem harmless. It's such broad, sweeping rhetoric. That question alone barely elicits a response beyond, Life would be so different.
The hazard in this version of the 'what-if' game is that it turns like a feverish wheel from one hypothetical to another, and if you let it gain any traction, it cannot be stopped until you are buried in longing for the impossible, unable to find joy in the present. It goes something like this:
What if we hadn't adopted?
What if we were still just a family of four?
What if I could let the kids play in the yard without me?
What if I had more time to work/draw/watch TV/volunteer?
What if Chad and I had control over our time?
What if we could go on vacations? Get babysitters? Keep up with the laundry? Go to church?
Sleep in?
Relax?
Breathe?
Go?
Stop?
What if life was easier?
What if it was better?

And by then, you are picturing a full bank account, a new car, a trip to the beach, a weekend of rest, an emotional bond with each person in your family. You are one fantasy away from erasing your struggle along with your obedience. You are one daydream away from being a completely different person. And you are one concoction away from wishing you were a different person.
And if you make it that far, if the wheel's momentum carries it through that many revolutions, you are one instant away from bitterness; one flash away from wanting that other, imaginary life.

That is why I cannot allow even the first spin of the wheel. I cannot permit myself to ask or answer the first 'what-if' on the list: What if we hadn't adopted?
With my heart, I believe, I know, that since God called us to adopt and to be parents to our children, it is the most perfect of circumstances with the greatest good and His utmost glory. I know it will be worth it.
But. It. Is. So. Hard.
And escape is so seductive.
It is dangerous to imagine life without my adopted son - I already have to work so hard to feel my affection for him.
It is dangerous to wish for only one daughter - the oldest is already so much easier to parent.
It is dangerous to want an easier life - nothing pulls us farther from knowing Christ crucified.

Yet, sometimes, in a quiet, private moment, when I'm alone in my room after issuing punishment or when I step into my closet to choose which shoes to wear, out of nowhere the 'what-if' game attacks.
I'll picture us enjoying one of Brent's soccer games or eating a quiet dinner, and some people will be missing from the picture. And I will think, what if..?

And then I will literally shake my head and exhale loudly. I will try to thank God for choosing us. I will sing a little song or tap out a rhythm on the nearest flat surface. Anything to keep the wheel from turning so much as an inch.
I don't regret it. I don't wish we had not adopted. I love my children - all of them.
But. It. Is. So. Hard.

Today I looked at my Facebook memory from one year ago. This day in 2019 was a terrible, difficult day - one of a thousand in a terrible, difficult season. I remember thinking then about how relieved I would feel reading that memory a year in the future. My hope was misplaced. I set it on what would be different, not on the Author of change.
Well, today, one year later, I could have posted the exact same status. One year sounds like such a long time until it passes.

Instead of playing the most dangerous game, I do laundry. I make lists. On occasion I pray or read about God and His promises. I call my mother. I bake. I make my bed. I play with my kids. I write lesson plans.
And I wait.
Thankfully, I do not wait alone or passively or helplessly. But I wait.
And I resist the what-ifs.


James 4:7 - Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

1 Peter 5:8-9 - Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world.