Risk and Reward

I’m a self-diagnosed control freak.  Please hold back your gasps of surprise.  Micromanaging is a really obnoxious side business of mine, just ask David.  The bigger, more intractable a life situation/problem, the more I buckle down about crap that doesn’t matter.  Powerlessness causes my insides to scream, “WE MUST HANDLE ALL THE THINGS RIGHT NOW.”  Doing 1 million frantic, meaningless somethings is better than nothing.  Or, at least, is better than slowing down long enough to realize I cannot physically DO anything to change my circumstances.

Image courtesy of Allie Brosh from her blog: Hyperbole and a Half

Planes, for instance.  Not my favorite mode of transportation, but helpful when members of your family live halfway across America.  Also necessary when picking up your daughter from Ethiopia.  But still, they’re the worst.  I have a rock solid routine in planes and Heaven save your precious heart if you mess with it or me.  This girl must buckle in, close eyes, and start blasting worship songs stat.  Also, if we experience any in air difficulties, the music through earbuds should be loud enough that I’ve won’t be able to hear the bad words escaping my mouth.  Which is a real possibility.  Basically, I’m a combo of the “See No Evil” and “Hear No Evil” monkeys for flying purposes.  (“Speak No Evil” is questionable.)  And I recognize this is ALL about control.  Cars are a much more hazardous method of travel, but I don’t stress about driving places.  In fact, I’m blase about it….sometimes to the detriment of my passengers and other drivers.  But *I’m* at the wheel (being a proud graduate of Driver’s Ed 8 billion years ago), so things are cool.  However, it’s harder to invest confidence in that over-educated, well trained pilot being the captain of my destiny.

The funny thing is: I was desperate to be a parent.  Perhaps because my thoughts centered around children being cute baby blobs rather than little people full of their own thoughts, opinions, and ideas.  Rookie mistake.  I viewed raising Elijah like building a skyscraper from the ground up, like we were working with an empty space.  Wrong.  Now parents DO get to lay foundational truths and values, get to model discipline and virtues from day one.  But the actual control you have in your kid implementing those principles is less comprehensive than most of us would prefer.  I mean still do your best, parents, but you cannot MAKE your child behave.  You can raise them in an environment where they are taught to treat others with love, respect, and consideration.  But you cannot program their brain to always respond in kind obedience.  That would be a sweet but creepy child robot.  Kids are great because they don’t always act how we wish they would.  They have strong personalities, candid mouths, and attitude to spare.  And when those powers are used for good, we appreciate it all the more (because we’re incredibly familiar with them being used for evil).  The higher the risk, the greater the reward.

"Oh, you wanted the tissues to stay IN the box?  My bad."

Uncertainty in regards to international adoption is a given.  When you consider the multiple governments at work AND the many hands/steps involved, these adoptions seem like a gamble on a good day.  Even after you factor in support from the best agencies and the solid backing of piles of approved paperwork.  Which is where we are at.  Because new regulations in Ethiopia have resulted in an elongated process, adoption agencies are pulling out of the country.  The financial and administrative demand on organizations has become terribly burdensome over this increased time period.  It’s disheartening.  In a recent conference call between our agency and families in their Ethiopia program, they echoed these sentiments.  Now, they have NO plans to stop working in Ethiopia.  But the risk, monetary investment, and wait times keep increasing.  (Hearken back to that fun conference call mention of "a potential hike in adoption fees" ALL families in process *may* incur.)  Those entering the program presently are saddled with an *estimated* 5 year wait for a child under the age of four. (Compared to a guess-timate of 3 years when we began the process in 2012.)  At one point during the call, the COO of America World (our agency) said, “If you aren’t comfortable with risk, if you want more stability in the process and the wait times, your family might want to consider transferring your adoption to another country.”  Wonderful.

When I was pregnant with Elijah, I realized there was potential for trouble.  But I was willing to put my health (and normal pants size) on the sidelines for the benefit of HIS future well being.  Whatever the cost.  And that’s exactly how we feel about this baby.  Maybe it is hard for you to understand, since we have more “control” of things in an adoption versus a pregnancy.  We could choose to transfer to a different country, one where things are running smoothly.  But, to me, that feels like forcing a miscarriage based on bleak but inconclusive medical opinion.  Because things *might* turn south.  We were fully aware of this possibility from the start and it just isn't reason enough for us.  (This isn’t said in judgment of anyone’s decisions.  God knows the excruciating weight of each adoptive family’s choices.  The emotional toll and time invested in making these decisions is immense.)  The COO then followed up her discouraging comments with this statement, “....But there is still a great need in Ethiopia.  We’ve been in the government orphanages in Addis Ababa and seen hundreds of beds full of children who need homes.”  And now with adoption agencies leaving Ethiopia, many of these kids are resigned to living solely within an institutional setting until they are old enough for the street.  For David and I, that settled it.  Unless Jesus himself closes the gates of this country (through government action or otherwise), transferring from Ethiopia doesn’t register as an option for our family.

Letting go is difficult for us control freaks.  It is hard to place trust in a power beyond yourself (even if it is just an airplane pilot), but faith demands it.  The Bible says it like this (Hebrews 11:1), “Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see.”  And when what we hope for DOES actually happen, it will blow your freaking mind (that’s the Laura version).  It’s those in-between times that nearly break us, that threaten some of our (Read: my) sanity.  But then you look out the plane window and see your hometown- gorgeous, lit up, waiting for you- a gift best viewed from above.  Or your child nonchalantly drapes their spindly arm around your neck in unprovoked affection.  You can’t control, plan, or manipulate these events into happening.  And yes, there is risk involved.  But one day I am going to look into my daughter’s big, beautiful eyes and think, “Oh baby, it was so worth it.”