This post has been more difficult to write than I anticipated. In fact, this past week has been more difficult than I anticipated. On the one hand, I have a son! He’s precious and already so loved. On the other hand, I have a son! On the other side of the world; whom I may not get to hold in my arms for another year. A reminder of how bittersweet adoption is.
It’s also a reminder how quick the devil is to swoop in and try to deceive the joy right out of you. “You can eat freely of all those trees sure… but what about this ONE that you can’t, tell me more about that!” How quickly I let myself go from thanking God for this answered prayer to acting like a spoiled child looking for my next present.
We got the call last Tuesday that we had been matched with a precious little boy. Y’all, when I say precious, I mean precious. Dark black hair (so much hair!), chubby fingers, and perfect little lips. I have eight pictures of him. Eight. The same number of months it has taken us from application to seeing his face. It’s killing me that I can’t share the pictures, but I can share this video of the kids seeing him for the first time.
In addition to the photos, I have a few pages of notes from his monthly well baby checks, a paragraph about his birth family, and a few sentences about his foster family. That’s it.
It isn’t the lack of information that’s killing me, though. It’s the carrying on about my day as if I didn’t just get “the call.” How do I physically put one foot in front of the other, knowing that I have a son on the other side of the world. As if doing laundry or dishes or anything else that doesn’t move me one step closer to him is normal any more. I WANT TO RUN TO HIM. That raw maternal phenomenon that says I don’t even need a plane, I can get there faster on foot.
It is the fact that it could still be another YEAR before we get to bring him home. I knew that going in. I knew that most children adopted internationally are 6-12 months at time of match and 18-30 months at time of placement.
But, now? Now that I’ve seen his little face? Every minute that our paperwork sits on someone’s desk, every minute that we wait for the cogs of two different governments to turn, every minute that’s spent waiting for checks to clear and mail to be delivered is a minute I’m missing out on with Eli. Minutes I could be counting his toes, smelling his hair, and holding him in my arms. Precious minutes I will never get back.
I have no doubt that God is in the details and deep down I know that not a minute of this story is being wasted. He has given me so much peace about accepting the unknown. He has been mercifully quick to silence my fears. Just this week, even as I have struggled with my restless Mama heart, I still hear God’s faithful pursuit- “Come to me. Rest in me.”
Will you pray for us? Pray that I relinquish my futile attempts to control and keep my eyes on Jesus. Pray that God prepares Eli’s heart for us, as he leaves the only family he has known thus far. Pray for healing for his birth family and foster family. Pray that God continues to move mountains according to HIS perfect timeline.