The agency that I’m adopting through (Bethany Christian Services) utilizes a database of ‘waiting children’ from a pool of ready-to-adopt kids in the area. Ever since I began this adoption journey, I stumbled upon that particular site and did a search for kids that fit the criteria for the needs I could meet. There was this one child on there that almost immediately caught my heart—yes, my heart, not just my eyes—and I began dreaming of the day that I could be a mother to such a kiddo. Every time I see that their profile is still active (meaning that they are still awaiting adoption), my heart both breaks and dances. It breaks because I wish I could be their mommy TODAY and that they could leave the never-ending foster care system they are in. It dances because that means they are still available for me to adopt! Then, after reading the same profile over-and-over-and-over for the one millionth time, I click the “Return to Results” button and find myself scrolling through the pictures and names of other kids who are equally as lovable and I ask myself, “Why can’t I just adopt ALL of you!?!”
Over time, that list of kids has grown, and my prayers for them have increased. “God, move people to action to bring these kids into their homes to give them a forever family. Lord, let these kids know that there is still viable hope for them to be welcomed as part of a forever family. Guide them. Guard them. Bless them. Be fully present in their lives. Lead them to a love that isn’t defined by the four walls they live in, or where they came from. Help them to see that their Heavenly Father thinks the world of them and isn’t giving up on them.” That is my prayer for them . . . and for my future child.
Right now, I’m in the “Happy Butterflies Preparation” stage when the trials seem manageable—and even welcome—simply because it means I get to be a mom and see my dreams come true! Still, the odds are ever in my favor that that feeling will wear off the further down the rabbit hole I go. I’ve read so many stories of how parents have adopted teens and after an adjustment period, things seem to go well. Then, as they age and change, things escalate and they rebel and act out and take out their anger on their parents . . . so I guess they are pretty normal teens, eh? Still, parents find themselves at their wits ends, wondering if they made a mistake and looking for a way out. Look, I’m not telling you that so that we can judge them—we have no right—but rather so that you can remind me of this post when those moments come to my own home. When my child is running away, help me remember to run to God. When my child is swearing at me because I took their phone away or wouldn’t let them sleepover at their boyfriend/girlfriend’s house, help me remember to speak words of kindness, love, truth, and grace. When my child tells me that they’ll never call me mother, help me remember that even if they won’t call me one, God does.
I’m asking because I know I’ll forget in the moment. I’ll probably throw around some crap like, “Yeah, but I had no idea it would get this bad when I wrote that,” and then get back to eating my millionth macaron of solace. And in that moment, you can grab both sides of my head and remind me that even in shaky moments, my Father God is unshakable and I need to suck it up, face the music, and learn to hear the symphony on the other end of the tune-up. Don’t let me give up on this amazing opportunity to be a living gospel to a child who is worth every tear, every prayer, every smile, every moment of frustration and fear, every step it took to bring them home.
While I’m sure there will be bumps along the way, I’m definitely believing for & looking forward to the finer moments as well! You know, those moments when I celebrate silly things like passing grades, consistency in hygiene, bravery to go for tryouts/auditions, or the fact that we survived yet another first week back at school. In those moments, I’ll smile and think of all you wonderful folks who have supported me with love, care, and prayers along the way. I’ll be grateful that you didn’t give up on me, or my family, and that you chose to step in to be a living gospel to me along the way. Here’s to a PROMISING journey!