What Now?

It's not uncommon for someone to still ask me how our adoption is going. I always appreciate the kind inquiry, but it always stings to have to answer, "Everything fell through. We will never be bringing our little boy home." I choke up and my eyes instantly fill with tears.

That statement is almost always followed with the question, "So what now? Are you still going to adopt from Ethiopia?"

The truth is that because of everything that happened with our original agency, there really is no agency that would pick back up where we left off--having lost our chance at adopting Oliver because of the corrupt orphanage director. No one else, even the agency who took on our case, is really willing to try to help us adopt another child right away...their only offer to us is to basically start back over from the beginning, waiting 3-4 years just to be matched with another child.

Beyond that, I honestly would not recommend anyone start fresh now with an Ethiopian adoption. Things are so shaky and unstable with the general population there being fairly negative toward international adoption, many of the government authorities are almost anti-international adoption. The US Embassy is also moving incredibly slow, refusing to approve many adoptions at all.

With all of that information, I am very hesitant to head into another international adoption program. The fact that we had actual approval from the Ethiopian government to bring Oliver home, and yet they still were unable to enforce their ruling...just leaves me feeling pretty gun shy to work with these under-structured governments at this time. Maybe someday I will be up for the risk again.

So. Where does that leave us?

Well, we still have a heart for adoption. Maybe someday God will make a way for us to offer a home to a child who needs a family. Perhaps domestic adoption? I would love for that opportunity. But at this time, we are not actively pursuing adoption.

We have just finished returning our grant money back to the organizations that had helped us. Our adoption funds are back to zero. A little hard to swallow.

So now I pray that God takes this desire to love and care for a child who desperately needs a home and a family, to demonstrate to them the love of Jesus, and to show them my Savior...I pray that He does something great with it in His own way and in His own timing.

Always My First, My Son

Just over a year ago, we first laid eyes on the boy who would become (forever in our minds) our first son. This past year has been painstakingly long and difficult. Hope for his homecoming has come and gone, over and over again.

About a month and a half ago, our agency told us that they could no longer actively work on our case.  Though we have done multiple investigations to prove his orphan status and adoptability and the Ethiopian government has given approval for his adoption--his orphanage director has still refused to obey her authorities. Tarik, the orphanage director of the Biftu orphanage system, has deliberately disobeyed the Ethiopian government. Hungry for power and revenge, she has literally hidden away each of the children from their adoptive families and from the government. From an American perspective, it is agonizing to see the Ethiopian authorities unable to actually carry out their own rulings. This is just not something we often see here, where there is infrastructure and proper chain of command. Every fiber of my being screams at the injustice and the inability to do anything to change this situation. One woman's anger is literally holding all of these children captive, hidden in the system--treating them more as pawns of currency rather than actual children in need of families. (Side note for those considering international adoption or in process: Ask your agency which orphanages they use and then research those orphanages. Ask how children are brought into the orphanage, what type of paperwork, investigations and protocol is in place. Stay informed. Rogue orphanage directors who operate outside of the terms of their own government cannot be trusted and should not be perpetuated. If considering Ethiopian adoption, clearly stay far away from the Biftu orphanage system. I have much, much more that I could write about these ethics and the questions you must be asking as a potential adoptive parent--but I will not go there today.)

So it seems that we have come to the end of this journey with our little David Oliver. If somehow, the situation ever changes, our agency has said that they will make us aware.

Having had a few months to process this all, we still do not know what we will do next. Though I know this scenario is difficult to relate to or understand for most people, know that it is loss. We have lost our son. And for this we have been greatly grieving.

Many continue to ask what we will do next. Will we continue with international adoption? Domestic adoption? Natural-born children?

We do not know yet. We are asking for wisdom from the Father. We trust that He will direct us, opening and closing doors as He sees fit. Though we look forward to the possibility of being parents again some day, we do not just desperately want a child to replace the one we lost. He will never be replaced. He will always be our first. In the future, we will rejoice if the Lord would bless us with another child--but it would be just that, a different child, our second. Though I will not know the details of his life, I will pray for him as my own son.

I do not know what the Father is doing through this all--but I do know who the Father is. He is good. He is loving. He is sovereign. He is just. Through these many months, He has taken my shattered heart and held it closely. He has been my portion. He has sustained.

I know these details today are a smattering of information, bits and pieces, with nothing fully developed. I apologize if this leaves you with more questions than answers. I hope to continue to write and explain more on the side of what God is teaching me through this all in the days to come. But for now, these bits of information will suffice.

Just Run

Mid-July, I had a runner friend of mine challenge me to run my first half marathon. At first I just laughed at her suggestion--but somehow, the thought slowly worked its way into my thinking. By the end of the week, I decided I would begin training. 

Now, just to clarify. I am not a runner. I don't especially enjoy it--it's more of a necessary evil that I do sometimes in the warm weather months...On a couple months, off a couple months. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Anyways, since July, I have slowly been coming to the realization that our adoption is not going anywhere...One person, half way across the world, is standing in the way and is making it impossible for us to move forward. She has been since Spring.

These training runs, often at least an hour or so, were very good for me. I filled my playlist with all of the songs that God has been using to encourage and challenge my heart throughout these last nine months. These runs were filled with tears, pleading with God to intervene and to bring my son home to me. They were filled with doubts, as I worked to reconcile in my mind the truth that God is good...yet my son might never be coming home. These runs were a pure hour to two hours of talking with God in my prayers, pouring out my heart to my Father, struggling through my emotions, worshiping Him in song.

The week of my half marathon, we received news from Ethiopia that led us to believe that we are at the end of our adoption road. Even though the Ethiopian government has given their permission for our adoption, we still have this one woman who is dead set against it....and the government over her will do nothing about it. There are, of course, more details than that--but I am not quite ready to put them all out there, in the open.

The reality is this: Unless this woman has a massive heart change, Oliver will never be ours. The proper authorities, who are in place to ensure things like this don't happen, just don't care enough to do something. And really, they are the only ones who could do anything.

That news hit me on Monday and my run was supposed to be Saturday. I was shaken. It was a struggle to even convince myself to get out of bed in the morning, much less run in a race. I just didn't feel like it. I didn't feel like doing anything or even seeing anyone. I felt like curling up under my covers, waiting for sleep to come to dull my senses. This is not how I imagined things to turn out.

That week before, I had just begun to study a few different Scripture passages, in preparation for choosing one to use for our ladies small group Bible studies at our church. My mind fell on Hebrews 12. It starts like this,

1 Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 2 looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
3 For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls. 4 You have not yet resisted to bloodshed, striving against sin. 

Then further down,

12 Therefore strengthen the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees, 13 and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be dislocated, but rather be healed.

That entire week, this passage permeated my thinking. The passage is talking about the Christian life, as a race. The author is challenging the believers to persevere, even when difficulties come. Keep running your race, even when you can barely walk...maybe hardly even crawl.

That's exactly where I was...I could barely crawl, but I was still called to run my Christian race. These verses just kept running through my mind. I felt like hiding away...but I kept recalling, "Run with endurance the race set before you. Lift up the drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees...Run!"

So I ran my race that Saturday. It was slow and ugly, painful--full of tears at the week's news, at the realization that my boy is probably never coming home. But I ran. I finished.

Since that week, the news has not really changed. It's gotten a little worse, in fact. Dave and I are not sure what we're going to do next. In time, we may share more details. I just felt like I couldn't leave you all in the dark any longer. I don't know what the future holds.

But this one thing I know...I have got to keep running this race--God's not done with me yet.

Letters to My Boy: This My Song Through Endless Ages

My Son,
This journey to you has left me feeling like a well-worn soldier, battle-scarred and weary; yet, not without worthy cause. However, as I look back through this last year, the journey has been absolutely beautiful. Sure, it is covered in tears and heartache. Many days have been dark and fearful. But God, He has been glorious. I have seen more than just His fingerprints on your story--His strong hand has led us all the way.

Many people have listened to your story and stood back in awe. They look at us in an almost dumb-founded sort of way. They tell us that we are so strong...that they would never be able to go through this. To many, it doesn't make sense. It is because they are looking at this story through the wrong lens. They are looking at us and wondering how on earth we could be standing here today. Rather, if they looked at the True Author of your story, the reason for us still standing here today would be clear. Oliver, our only hope is God. His mighty power is surely enough to sustain! All the way, He has led us.

Let me explain what I mean. Early on in this process, we started with the paper chase, a mountain of errands and paperwork on the US side. It was crazy! Our kitchen table was often covered with files and documents that needed signatures and stamps. It seemed hard...then. Little did I know, that was the easy part. ;)

One day, when we thought we were ready to send in our dossier, we found out that we actually had to redo a background check at our local police station. For some reason, the station was closed in the middle of the day when we got there. When they did reopen, they refused to do the paperwork for us, claiming that we had to go to a particular other station (I wrote all about it here on May 6.) After months of paperwork, and now being ready to submit our dossier that day--I was exhausted. We went out to the car and I literally broke down in tears at this road block. I was so disappointed that our timing to you would be delayed another few days to a week! That was really the beginning of God showing us that your whole adoption would be done on His timeline.

The other day, Daddy and I were driving in our beloved Lake Country, our home community. We drove past that police station, where I had broken down in tears over a year ago. As we drove, I laughed at myself. What a tiny, little roadblock that had been--and yet it seemed so big at the time. In the midst of my chuckle, I caught my breath. It suddenly hit me. God was starting to prepare us for what was to come.

The tears came back as we passed the police station. In my mind, I started tracing God's hand through our circumstances.

After the paper chase and submitting our dossier, we began our wait with a fundraiser. We needed a significant amount of finances in order to accept your referral. God provided every penny, and then some! We were privileged to do a Both Hands Fundraiser. We were surrounded by friends, old and new, and together we served a widow while simultaneously raising funds for our adoption. Amazing, front row seat seeing God working and providing for us to bring you home!

I then remembered that our wait to be matched with you was almost twice as long as our agency had guessed. Hard at the time, but God was preparing us, teaching us patience. That summer, we learned that the US would be implementing a process (PAIR process) that could double our wait time after we were matched with you. Already, the wait seemed like it would be forever.

At the end of the summer, we did another fundraiser that helped us make a dent in our expected travel fees. The Home Run was the first annual race that we intend to do every year to raise money for adoptive families. God provided greatly!

The day that we were finally given a referral was a joyous one--but less than 48 hours later, our first referral fell through. I was crushed. I had never felt more pain in my life than at that first loss. The days after that were long and so very dark--but God was there, sustaining us. He was teaching us that He is enough. His grace is sufficient to strengthen us and sustain us.

By this point in our drive and my memories, my tears were flowing freely. Your daddy noticed I was crying, and I started to share with him what God was teaching me at that moment.

I continued to trace God's hand. In December, we were matched with you. I was excited and terrified at the same time. So fearful that you would be snatched out of my hands, just like the little boy before you. But God calmed my anxious heart. He taught me to trust His guidance. He had allowed us to feel the pain of the previous loss, and He would sustain us if it happened again. We also learned that it would likely be 7 months before we would even get to meet you (instead of the quoted 3-4 months). That timeline seemed like an eternity.

By the end of January, the promised preliminary PAIR documents were still nowhere to be found. Week after week passed. Still nothing. God was teaching me to trust His timing. My patience was growing.

On February 12, the world seemed to stop. That was the day that we got news that our agency's director had been arrested and charged. Oliver, I felt devastated. We didn't even know for sure if you were actually an orphan. We had two investigations done to ensure your story checked out. We rejoiced that we were not apart of anything that would hurt you further. But still, we did not know if we could move forward. We did not know if Ethiopia would allow us to adopt you. Yet, God sustained us.

In March, we were gifted a trip to Florida-where we got to meet up with Tiago's mommy and daddy (Clarisa and Jorge Polanco). Together, the four of us nervously listened in to the conference call that explained the fragile details of our circumstances. Really, we did not know what would happen. God gave us that encouraging friendship at just the time we needed it. He helped us to be still and wait on Him.

The weeks that followed were bumpy. Ethiopia still had not spoken officially regarding if they would even allow us to try to move forward. Finally, on April 1, Ethiopia gave that permission. However, it wouldn't be for another month until we would finally be able to officially sign on with our new agency.

Because of our old agency's corruption, we had lost all of our money and were required to start paying all of the fees over again. We still do not know where the finances will come from. But already, God has shown us that He can provide! Seemingly out of the blue, we were given an adoption grant toward your adoption. Now this grant would not even come close to paying the rest of our needs, but it was a reminder from God that He owns it all. He can take care of the finances.

By the beginning of May, we learned that you did not have any of your paperwork yet on the Ethiopian side. None of it had been gathered since the day of your referral. In fact, our old agency had matched you with us before you were even ready with your papers...This backed our timeline up to basically pre-referral. We learned that we were waiting on your adoption contract with your orphanage as well as the first needed MOWA approval. We also learned that the woman who signs that first MOWA approval is refusing to sign any documents...for months. This news was crushing. After waiting six months already since your referral to us, we were no closer to bringing you home. In fact, our new agency reminded us over and over and over again that we never should have been matched with you yet in the first place. That they would never match a child at this point because it could still take over a year just to get the next piece of paperwork. Devastating. But still, God walked beside us. He showed us His character. He upheld us.

Time continued to past and our new agency was unable to move you to their care or to get any updates as to how you were doing or even exactly where you were located. It soon became apparent that the orphanage director was refusing to work with our new agency. She was missing meetings, not answering voicemails, and finally threatening to give our children away to other agencies and families.

The government above the orphanage director has agreed to step in to help us, but over a month has passed without assistance. Time crawls by.

By this point, God was really stretching our understanding of His goodness. You see, Oliver, some people think that God will work everything out the way that we want it. They may try to trick themselves into thinking that because God is good, He will orchestrate our circumstances toward what seems best to us. In our circumstance, we could be tempted to believe that God could only be good and gracious if He brought you home to us. In others' circumstances, they may think that God could only be good and gracious if they're healed of the disease, if the finances work out, if they get what they desperately want, if they are protected from danger, or if they're delivered from the painful storm. That's just not the way God works. We are not in charge, telling God what is good and what He should do.

Through these dark months, we were slowly coming to the realization that you may never come home. God may not choose to show Himself strong in that particular way. God may choose to glorify Himself by demonstrating to us that He is sufficient. And God is still good--whether you come home to us or not. He is still sovereign, all-knowing and gracious.

God is always good because even though my heart hurts desperately, He is still holding me. He is still guiding me. He will never leave me or forsake me. God is gracious because even when I want to cry out in anger, He is lovingly teaching me to be still. To rest. To trust in His character. To trust that His character will do what is best for you and what is best for me. Because He is my Father, and He knows best. God can be trusted with the details of your life and my life. And never once have I ever walked alone--not yet, through this entire journey. Though the waves have beat against us, have threatened to overtake us, have tried to sweep us into the hopeless sea--our Rock has stood firm, unmoving, unshaking, steadfast.

Oliver, our God can be trusted. His character has been proven to me over and over again. When the days were joyous, He was good. When the months are dark, He is good. You can take that to the bank. The thread of God's goodness and the outline of His steady hand can be seen in the tears and in the joys. What He has taught me and worked into me through joy and tears is glorious. It is beautiful. And I am blessed to have learned it.

As I look back on these months and consider the commendations about our own strength--I can't help but laugh. Oh no, I am weak. I am so fragile. One or two questions are enough to draw tears from these eyes. But my God, He is strong. Do not look at me or Daddy and think that we are something wonderful--It is God. Look at Him. He is amazing! He is the One Who can take these two feeble creatures and sustain them through pain and fear. May this be my song through endless ages: that Jesus led us all the way. I pray that this will be your song through all ages: that Jesus led you all the way.

Love to you--my sweet boy,
Momma

July 2014 Update

These days, my heart totters somewhere in between receiving a phone call that tells me that the orphanage director has given permission for us to continue forward with our adoption and receiving the news that the adoption has failed, no hope of moving forward. It's a hard place to be. Stuck between hope and fear that all is lost in our adoption.

Our agency has been working to enlist the help of the Ethiopian government to leverage their power to make the orphanage director comply. So far, the ET government has agreed to help--but it has been weeks and weeks since their consent--and still, they have not made her cooperate.

Just to give you some perspective...When we were matched with Oliver last December, we were told that we would be traveling by June at the latest and then he would be home by the end of the summer. Likely, we would be home with our boy for much of the summer. We were getting almost weekly pictures of our boy. I had planned to finish up my last few months of work in May, and I would be staying home for the summer with my Oliver.

Well, since the day of our referral--zero progress has been made in our case. Zero. We have not received any needed documents (in fact, he's still frozen at the first needed document--with the woman who's refusing to sign). We have not submitted those needed documents for PAIR. Not submitted to court. Nothing. He is not any closer to coming home today than he was 8 months ago (paper-wise). My 2.5 month old baby is coming up on his first birthday pretty soon. I haven't seen an updated picture or update since January.

So, here we are.

In some respects, I have started to dread blog updates--because they just sound so stinking sad. I know you all are praying and right here with us--I look forward to the day when maybe we will have wonderful news to share. But for now, here we are.

Many of you have asked if there is anything you can do. Trust me, I wish you could do something. I wish I could do something. :) We just simply wait and pray. There may come a time when we may need you to make phone calls and rally behind us. But we're not there yet. We have paused raising the rest of the needed finances, because we honestly don't know if we will even be moving forward at all.

Please wait and pray with us. We need an army of prayer warriors to intercede for our son, asking that he be kept safe and healthy. Pray with us that the ET government would be swift in their help--pray that this week they would force compliance. Pray that, as a result, Oliver would be allowed to be moved to our new agency's care center--out of his current orphanage. There, we would receive regular updates, and he would receive careful attention and medical care.

Thank you for your continued prayers and support.

Hope In God: For I Shall Again Praise Him

When we were first beginning this adoption process, I would read blog after blog, excitedly anticipating the days ahead--imagining what God was going to do in our family. Occasionally, I would come across a blog or a Facebook friend whose author was in the "depths of despair." From what they were saying and how they were reacting, it seemed like they had just snapped. They were furious with the system. They were ranting about injustice. Their emotions were filled with anger and discouragement. Though claiming to be Christians, their trust in God seemed to be cast aside. They seemed to have forgotten all about the fact that our God really is sovereignly ruling this universe. In fact, it had sounded like God had been sucked right out of their process. Now, it was just them against the system.

As a novice in this adoption chaos, before I even really knew the pain of waiting and unsurety, I made a decision that I would not let this process "break" me or my faith in God. Especially with this public platform of a blog, I never wanted my words or my responses to be a disparaging reflection of my God's character.

This wouldn't be because my faith was especially strong, it would be because my God is especially sustaining. 

I knew these things to be true of God while I was walking in the light and things were easy and exciting. I wanted those same truths to sustain me, should this journey get hard and dark.

Well, here we are. This journey has gotten incredibly difficult and so very dark. I have not given many updates on this blog recently for a number of reasons. One of those reasons is because each new hurdle that arises takes weeks and weeks (or months) to jump or rather to even to have answers in how to move forward. The other reason is that some of these hurdles have been sensitive. I do not want to jeopardize our ability to move forward because I put too many details on the internet, thereby angering some government employee who holds the key to our process.

Our most recent hurdles have involved a government worker, who has refused to sign our son's documents for six months now--keeping us frozen in time, unable to move forward. One signature--we have been waiting on one signature for six months!  They have involved orphanage directors, who have literally threatened to steal my son and to give him away to another agency and family. Sadly, there are people who would do this, just to make an extra buck. She would steal my son from my very arms, just because I can't do anything about it and she could make some extra money. These hurdles have been broken systems, which seem unable to enforce their own declarations. They have involved inability to get updates or to even verify my son's location and health. No pictures. Not a word for six months on if he is even alive and well.

We've been waiting for almost three weeks now for an authority to step in and make it impossible for my son to be stolen. While with each day that passes, he could be disappearing already, because our agency is not allowed to check on him and see him.

Spread throughout these roadblocks have been holidays off of work in both Ethiopia and the US. Internet outages. Phones are down. Key employees taking extended vacations. Refusals to show up to meetings or to answer communications.

These have been dark days. Psalm 42-43 have become my hiding place, a refuge from the painful reality that my son may never come home. I read:

Psalm 421 As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God.2 My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?3 My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?”4 These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: How I would go with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God with glad shouts and songs of praise, a multitude keeping festival.5 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.6 My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar.7 Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. 8 By day the Lord commands his steadfast love and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life.9 I say to God, my rock: “Why have you forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?” Let them bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling!10 As with a deadly wound in my bones, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?”11 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.
Psalm 431 Vindicate me, O God, and defend my cause against an ungodly people, from the deceitful and unjust man deliver me!2 For you are the God in whom I take refuge; why have you rejected me? Why do I go about mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?3 Send out your light and your truth; let them lead me;4 Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my exceeding joy, and I will praise you with the lyre, O God, my God.5 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.

I feel as if the author is writing about my own life. He writes of a longing and need for God's presence. I praise God because His very nature is ever present. As my days seem like I am always only a question or two away from tears, my nights awakened with sadness, I sometimes begin to wonder with my enemies--where is my God? I pour out my soul to my Father, remembering His goodness and faithfulness in the past days, reminding myself that He is still the same God. My soul is cast down and my emotions in turmoil...yet my thoughts must be redirected: "Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God."

Some days, I do feel forgotten. I do wonder if God is working. I must hope in what I know to be true about God. Let me praise him again, for He is my salvation and my God.

Those evil ones who are seeking to steal my son and stop our adoption, I plead to God for deliverance. I pray that His truth will lead me, to know which course of action to take.

Though my heart hurts and I struggle to see God's hand working, I must push through like the psalmist and remind myself: "Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God."

When these days were easier, I felt like I could shout from the mountaintops: "Hope in God; I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God."

More recently, this cry has become more of a whisper, reminding myself that I can hope in God...I will again praise Him. He is my only salvation. My God.

Whether my greatest joy is realized or whether my deepest fear comes true, this truth must be my mantra. God may graciously choose to bring my son home. God may sovereignly ordain that He will be praised more in sustaining us through loss. I pray that either way, I will say:

"Hope in God; for I shall yet again praise Him, my salvation and my God."

Friends, please pray with me that God's working would be known. Please pray that He would break hard hearts who are striving so diligently to tear our son from us. You can pray specifically about each of the hurdles mentioned above.

But beyond this, pray that God would be praised, whether my desires are met or not.

I thank you for your love and care. I thank you for your willingness to intercede before the Father in such a personal way for us.

Sisterhood of Strength

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.