It started with a spark.
Adoption was on my heart since I was a child. Back then life was simple, logical. These kids needed families, and food, and love, I had all of those, so I planned on sharing it with them. But as life took over, it became a distant dream. It became something that I saw myself doing, but never now, not this year, not yet. Always later. I wasn’t ready yet. I thought things, and felt things and hated the part of me that spoke the honest but hurtful pains in my heart. I didn’t know how to resolve them. So I didn’t.
Then I got an email.
My husband and I had attended a screening of Find Me, a documentary on adoption featuring a family that attended our church. People I barely knew but respected from a distance. They were some of those uber-Christians. They had memorized the entire Bible. Backwards. I was pretty sure of it. The mom of this clan offered me an opportunity to ask questions, in what she promised would be a safe environment. I cautiously replied and we met a few days later.
We talked for hours.
I’m not sure I can remember what was even said. I know I feared not loving enough. I know I voiced my concerns, and my frustrations in lacking the ability shed them. I told her that I had recently come to see children differently. They were no longer distant strangers, but instead innocents who needed help. How could I turn away? Still I struggled with, what if I couldn’t love? What if my heart wasn’t big enough? What if it was hard? What if a child messed up our marriage, our ministry? I was so busy already. How was I supposed to fit a child in the mix?
At the same time, My heart ached for these lost kids. Kids without families, security, hope, love. I wanted to help them. I knew we would have whatever it took, I just wasn’t sure if I was willing to give it. I know now that so much of my fear was really ignorance. Ignorance to the process. Ignorance of a Great God. A lack of trust. A cord of disobedience. She said many things that hit my heart, but one that I will never forget,
“If you feel called to this journey then there is most likely a child waiting for you at the end of the paperwork.”
Oh. My daughter. She’s waiting for me.
She waiting for us. She’s anxious for us. She looking for us. She’s hoping for us. How can I abandon her?
After hours of talking I pulled my coat around my shoulders, threw my head back, hands in pockets and groaned. “Ahhhh I think we’re going to do it.” Over the next few days the burden was lifted, my selfish desires fell away.
The spark was reignited. Life became simple again. Logical. That distant dream has become a real purpose. She’s out there waiting. We have to go get her.
I found joy in obedience.
Since that night my joy has multiplied a hundredfold. And I don’t even know her name….