The waiting is hard. This is the month that we were originally expecting to be traveling to pick up our baby girl. We're still sitting in chilly Cleveland this month, not knowing when we will find ourselves on a plane headed for warmer temperatures and a baby girl that we steal our hearts with a mere glance. We've experienced some setbacks that have been outside of our control...setbacks caused by red tape and bureaucracy...setbacks caused by people who don't speak English...by people who seem to have lost sight of how critical it is to get these children to their loving families. But how grateful I am that our faith doesn't rest in "the system". Our faith is in One who has no language barrier. It's in the One who shuts the mouths of lions, makes raging furnace rescues, heals the sick, gives sight to the blind, and raises the dead...just to name a few. God is, indeed, our Solid Rock.
The adoption process is not all roses. Even adoptions that take place quickly pull on your heart strings, I would imagine. You think of that child. Alone. Hungry. Who's hugging her? What are her living conditions? Is she sick? Is she going to sleep hungry? Has she learned not to cry because no one comes? Are the voices that speak to her gentle? What about the hands that hold her or change her? Are they too rough? Too uncaring? Can she hold out hope, waiting for her family to come for her?
There are many nights that I go to bed with these questions running through my mind. Here I lay...in my warm comfortable bed. In the next room lies a bed. An empty bed. A bed who is waiting for a little girl to fill its covers. The room is only half finished. I can't bring myself to finish a room for a little girl who's homecoming has an indefinite time frame. I know its silly, but in my head it makes sense. If the room is finished, than there should be no need to wait any longer. Somehow, in my crazy head, the unfinished room means we're not quite ready for her. Clearly, in our hearts, we are. And really, all the room is missing is some moulding to be sanded and painted, board and baton installed, some burlap curtain panels, and one wall in need of some decorating. I mean, come on...none of those things are deal breakers if we got the call today to go get her, right? But somehow, this makes the waiting make sense. Even though it doesn't.
Adoption is a risk. It's a risk of having your heart broken with deflated expectations. I know that at the end of however long this process takes, our hearts will be filled with joy and our arms will be filled with a baby girl. A baby girl who will sleep in the room next to ours, like a peanut in a big bed. She'll go to bed with a full tummy and more hugs and kisses than she can count. She'll learn to cry when she's hurt...or sad...or mad, knowing that mom and dad will make her feel better. She'll learn to trust. She'll learn to love. She'll learn to call him "daddy"...she'll learn to call me "mommy". Today, I'm holding on to that.
more thoughts to come...another day