Adoption is not for the faint of heart, ya’ll. In fact, it’s not even for the human heart.
Wednesday was the lowest point. We reached the lowest point of despair, hopelessness, and if someone had told us we could be out, we would have taken the out – no question. Our agency is going through some changes for the better, but it’s clearly causing delays. It’s not the most organized place on earth, so I don’t have much confidence that they were adequately preparing for the changes to avoid delays. Then we heard from the immigration officer who’s had our file for over two months that she still hadn’t even started reviewing it. Heartbreak. We had started to feel optimistic, like things were actually moving. Not yet. Not yet.
When people say adoption is hard, this is what they are talking about. It’s not the paperwork, it’s not the personal questions, it’s not the finances. Those are normal hard things. Everyone deals with those issues in life in various forms. No, adoption is hard because there are few times in life that we willingly submit to having absolutely zero control over our future. We are completely powerless in this situation. The systems are too big, the issues are too complex. We are completely at the mercy of other people – evil, corrupt people, no less. There are no guarantees about timing, and everything can fall apart in an instant.
I’ve been fooling myself. I thought I was getting somewhere. I thought that my faith was strong, and that I could do the hard things. I was ready to live for Christ. To sacrifice. To be radical. To be ALL IN.
I am a vapor. I am dust. My strength is an illusion. The hard stuff hasn’t even begun. God looks and me and says, oh sweetie, you think waiting is hard? Wait till you have three African children who you’ve never met, with broken hearts and a lifetime of pain wrapped up into a few short years. This waiting, this lack of control, it’s nothing compared to the pain, heartache, suffering and hopelessness that is coming.
I am scared. I can’t do it. I find it a great injustice when the grocery store is out of dried cherries. I don’t trust that God will get me through missing an episode of Glee. More seriously, I don’t trust that God will give me the finances to pay down my debt, that he will really protect my marriage. This is child’s play, normal stuff, and I am failing. How can I think God can give me the responsibility for the big stuff?
Ah, but there is hope. For his strength is made perfect in my weakness (2 Cor 12:9). His work is not dependent on me at all. This waiting is a test. Will I let go and and give God the steering wheel or will I keep trying to drive?