Faith Walks, Ugly Cries, and Light Bulb Moments

One thing predictable about international adoption is the unpredictability. Prospective adoptive parents do sign approximately 250 forms acknowledging this certainty, yet the faith walks are hard. I'll admit from the onset we come in DEAD LAST in the waiting time category for current Ethiopia adoptions. So far, our process has gone about as quickly as it could, and while there's probably someone out there with a shorter time line, there aren't many.
But guess what? Waiting is still hard.


Forty-five days ago, we met our son (A). It wasn't a slow motion movie reel scene of us running across the orphanage drive, arms flung open wide, but it meant something. He didn't know who we were or why we were there. There were no tears when we left the orphanage, just waves and awkward smiles. A didn't really know who we were, but he does now; and, I can't help but wonder what he is thinking.

 

I've experienced a range of emotions since we left Ethiopia. Somewhere I admitted to the wave of difficulty that hit me as our plane left Africa. There have been other ebbs and flows. Last week, I experienced just about every negative emotion (stress, worry, heaviness, uncertainty, overload, you name it), but in the end, my brain grasped at the logistics mode, blocking out guesses of how A might be feeling.



As we reflected on the news that our case would be submitted to Embassy today, it was exciting to entertain the possibility of being together in Ethiopia soon. But this morning we hit a snag when a phone call at 9:40 brought unexpected news. Our paperwork had been taken to the Embassy, but it didn't stay there. Another form of one of the documents was requested. I appreciate the processes in place to protect children like A, but the delay was still disappointing.

An opportunity to sit alone with the Lord and my thoughts did not come until about 5:00 this afternoon. All day, I had bounced my feelings off of Him, but I had not yet been able to sit down by myself and listen. I was pleasantly surprised the elephant-sized burdens from last week were staying at bay, the worries I had carried over the unknowns: would our 3 biological kiddos stay here or or travel with us? would there be flights available? flights that didn't surpass desired on-plane time limits? flights with aisle seats open? flights that didn't cost $5,000 a person? Assuredly, there were many outbound prayers on our behalf before and after the phone call came.

No doubt I will pick up and lay down those unnecessary elephant burdens many times in the days (and weeks?) to come, but as I quietly shared with the Lord, there was still one pressing emotion: a disappointing sadness over the fact that we cannot yet be physically present with our son. Struggling against a full-blown ugly cry, I offered the admission, half-expecting to be chastised for some lack of faith, but my Jesus sweetly answered, "I feel the same."

He reminded me God also wants to be physically present with His children here on earth, but the day has not yet come. He reminded me I can long for time with our son, as long as I trust Him for the time line. He reminded me I can feel weak in my sadness, as long as I trade my weakness for His strength. He reminded me I am not alone.

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:26-28