There have been many times throughout these last few months when, in my flesh, I have pleaded with God. I have wished that He would have chosen a different way for us--a way that didn't include having a son who may never be able to come home, who was caught in the midst of an agency's scandal, a way that wasn't so painful with no end in sight. Many times, my mind has battled, "If only...God would have done it a different way."
I sit here today, again not really knowing where my son is. Not really knowing what is being done to gather his needed clearances. Having a nursery upstairs, that is just about finished--yet I cannot bring myself to place the final piece of furniture into it, a crib. Wondering if this adoption will ever be completed. If my now eight month old son will ever be held within my arms or know the sound of my voice. If I will ever see another picture of his face or actually meet him in real life.
Many days have been dark and felt hopeless.
To be honest, I have never been in this place before. I have always been a carefree, go with the flow type of person. Whatever God wills, that is what will be done. But not now. Now I must battle in my mind each day to remember that God is good. God is sovereign. 150 Psalms have been my lifeline, reminding me Who God is. To lift myself up out of low hopelessness and to remember that God is at work--in so many ways. He is at work in my adoption yet, though it remains unseen. But beyond that, He is at work in this world, wielding the sword of the Gospel across hearts that so desperately need the surgery. Drawing lost ones to Himself, welcoming them into His own dear family. He is at work in our church, in the families, in the individuals--pulling them closer to Himself, shaping them to be more like Christ.
He is at work. I just need to look up and realize it.
As I have wrestled with the "what-if's" and the "if-only's," I have often stumbled upon a most gracious and beautiful treasure in the midst of my sadness. If I had never found myself in the midst of this dark place, abandoned by our agency and cast down in the international adoption world, I never would have opened this radiant gift.
You see, the week that our agency was indicted, each of us families found ourselves afraid and unsure of how to proceed. One sweet adoptive mother, started an email thread to a few others of us--reaching out in hopes of camaraderie and support. Each of us added to the thread one or two others from our previous agency, to whom we had grown particularly close. Carefully and cautiously, we began to share our hearts, our fears. Slowly, God knit our hearts together.
These dear ones function much like the workings of a clock. While one piece is high, another is low-yet each part urges the others forward. Allows them to continue to function. The moving of one piece pulls the next forward, almost by a gentle force, certainly by necessity. The workings of this clock may seem insignificant from moment to moment, yet their end result is stunning. Beautiful.
This group of women communicates daily. We advise each other on what to do next. We uphold one another when one receives bad news. Together, we have wept, though hundreds and thousands of miles separated us, as we've read each other's updates on our computer screens or iPhones. We pray for each other, bringing our precious little one's before the Father. We encourage with Scripture and music. While one is low, the others pull them up and encourage them to press on, trusting the heart of our Sovereign God.
Aside from my dear Clarisa, I have not met any of these women in person. Yet we are woven so tightly. I look forward to the day when we meet. Surely, we must.
We are all at different places in this adoption journey. In fact, some had lost their would-be children right at the beginning of this mess. She followed the investigation through to the end and battled to ensure the child was returned safely home to her birth family. All the while, as she grieved, she praised the name of the Father. Her example of strength and righteousness has stuck with me--and will always. Another had been expectantly waiting to receive her referral, only to find herself still without a child. Many have since been able to take steps forward, yet each have gotten "stuck" again as we wade through red tape and bureaucracy. A few of us are still in the position where we honestly do not know whether or not our adoptions will ever be able to be completed. There are missing pieces of the puzzle, that have yet to be played out. We rejoice with those who rejoice. We weep with those who weep. Some are mothers to children already in their arms, while others of us wait for our first child to come home. We all wait together to add these children to our families.
These ones have become something of a sisterhood, offering strength as I fearfully attempt to walk forward. I am certain that they love my son almost as much as I do. I often wonder at how God has brought each of these ones into my life. Their faith is strong and steady. They point me to Christ. They remind me of God's character. They are an extension of God's grace, reaching right into my daily life. I am humbled that they are my friends.
I thank God for them. And yes, with that, I must thank God for the circumstances in which I met them.
Here's to you--13 surrogate aunties to my Oliver--my radiant gift in this darkness.
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