The Reason Why

So after our last post about waiting, you’d think we would have made a little peace with the topic.  Maybe even try applying some of that bloggy wisdom to our own lives.  But, nah.  Instead our wait lingered, saw us in a moment of vulnerability, and delivered a swift punch to our gut.

This last week and a half basically handed us our hindquarters.  David and I were fragile, weepy, wounded.  It was baffling.  We had been feeling so bolstered by the great response to the blog and then BAM.  Lights out for the Grosses.

I finally was able to put my finger on it today.  9 months ago we sent our dossier to Ethiopia.  9 months ago our family “officially” started this process.  If this was a pregnancy, we’d have our baby girl sometime this month...instead of in 3 (?) more years.  Suddenly the sadness started making a lot more sense.

So we had another conversation about it (Instead of “Lather, rinse, repeat”, we do “Wait, converse, repeat”).  Thank Jesus I married a social worker; his profession forbids eye rolling during talks about our feelings (which, let’s be honest, is like 90% of our discussions).

Me: I’m so discouraged.  I don’t think I can wait for 3 more years.

David: I know, it’s how I feel too.  That’s why I’m glad God is in control.  Because either He’s going to work through Ethiopia’s reform process to speed up adoptions….or He’ll give us the strength to wait another 3 years.

Me: I prefer option A.

Okay, maybe I didn’t really respond that way in the moment.  But duh, of course we want the quick and easy way out!  And I sense the many (adoptive, foster, biological) families in waiting are shaking their heads in agreement too.  Waiting is life-draining.

Here’s something that helps.  At least it helped me.  Our wait is two-sided.  Meaning: We aren’t the only ones waiting.  Our daughter is waiting for US too (I mean, she might not recognize that fact yet- considering she is only a sparkle in her birth mother’s eye.  But she will...eventually).  This concept became even clearer to me after watching the video below.  It addresses “the wait” for a family and a safe home from a foster child’s perspective.  I found it both convicting and applicable to our situation as well (It is WORTH the 12 minute view, but get a box of tissues first.  Then after watching, you can finish reading the rest of the blog).

Oh, that sweet little girl.  In her words, I hear my daughter and the voice of waiting children everywhere, “I wish someone would tell me it’s going to be okay.  That one day, maybe, I’d feel normal.  That I won’t always be alone.  That I’ll have a Mommy who will hug me and be strong for me…..My story is not my fault.  It’s not because of me.  And does not have to be what defines my future.  I AM loveable.  I AM worthy of care.  And that glimmer of light makes ALL the difference.  The glimmers of light give me hope, that someday MY summer will come.”

Whenever my selfishness causes frustration or raises complaints regarding our waiting period, I now take a long pause afterwards.  To think of my daughter who has NO CHOICE but to wait for her family.  For her home.  And no-the red tape restrictions/crazy long wait times/exorbitant fees encountered by adoptive families are most definitely not right or fair, but whining won't change that.  Instead, I should focus on what I CAN change.  Starting with myself.  How dare I squander this limited-time opportunity I have to grow stronger before my daughter's arrival.  Now is the time to prepare, to equip our family with the tools necessary to help her transition someday.  Because the baggage she carries (her past, coping mechanisms, triggers) ISN’T her fault, but we still need to be emotionally ready to aid her healing.  It is going to be a big undertaking, a life-long undertaking, but one that we are beyond honored to be called to.

“My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; He is mine forever.” --Psalm 73:26