Joy comes in the morning?

O God, listen to my cry! Hear my prayer! From the ends of the earth, I cry to you for help when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the towering rock of safety, for you are my safe refuge, a fortress where my enemies cannot reach me. Psalm 61:1-3

Tonight, my heart is overwhelmed.  When David wrote those words, he was pleading for physical safety, but as I read them I am overcome with desire for an emotional fortress, longing for the comfort that only my father's arms can bring.

The phone call started out all smiles - my wonderful mom-by-choice called just as we finished getting our free Chick-Fil-A sandwiches.  She seemed excited to be telling me that my aunt & uncle from out of state would be here for the weekend, and I figured she was just calling to update me on what's going on with the rest of the family.  In a way, I was right - but what I didn't realize was that the biggest part of the update was going to be hard to hear.  My bio dad called her today.  He calls her once or twice a year, and every single time I think I won't be hurt when she tells me about their conversation.  Of course, every single time, I'm wrong.  Tonight, he had lots to say, and he also told her that he's called all their brothers & sisters recently to wish them a merry Christmas.  He's even making plans to see at least one of them for the holiday.  As she told me about his failing health, my brother's new job, and my stepmother's return to work, I couldn't stop the tears from falling. When she told me that he spent the morning with my sister, standing by her side as the adoption of her four kids was finalized, I couldn't stop the hurt that welled up inside.

I wish I could just not care, not be angry or hurt.  I wish that I could be happy that at least he's contacting family, happy that my sister has a supportive dad, happy that the adoption is final, happy that my brother found a great job.  Instead, I feel hollow, empty, unloved, and unwanted.  Mom said he asked about me, and all I could think was that he should be asking ME how I'm doing instead of asking her, that he should be calling ME and not just his siblings, that he should be the one telling me about his health issues instead of his sister.  And then I remember how much it hurt the last time he did call me, how emotionally invested I can't help but become every time he reaches out to me, and how incredibly painful it is every time it doesn't work out. If he calls me, it hurts.  If he doesn't call me, it hurts.  So tonight, as I sit here wondering which pain is easier to take, I cry out to the One who will never fail me, praying that morning will bring peace and comfort to my aching heart.