Just Information.

Sorry, this post is long, and probably a little less for you than it is just "cheap therapy" for me.

Several months ago, I committed to not answering the phone or checking any emails from the adoption agency without stopping first to pray.  How is it, then, that as soon as I saw an email from the agency last Friday, I flipped it right open without hesitation and without praying first?!?!

Wish I could take that moment back.  The news in that email was not what I was expecting or hoping to read.

1. Though a batch of kiddos had their paperwork moved to the "Exit Phase", HC's paperwork was not among those taken.  It should have been.  It could have been taken with the last batch that happened in June, but it didn't - so it was "definitely" suppose to progress with this batch.  People who signed their paperwork after us progressed this time around, but we did not.  We don't know why.
2. It is very unlikely that any more batches will be accepted this year.  It will likely be March or so (assuming there is no reason that his paperwork cannot be progressed).  The new wait time from entering the "Exit Phase" until travel is 6-8mo.  This means our wait time is likely a year or more away.

Ouch.  Not what I was anticipating.

I wish I could say my immediate response was different than what it was.  But it was not good.  Sad really.  I don't usually behave this way.  After reading the email, while standing next to a co-worker, I threw my phone, pulled my jacket off - threw it, slammed my hands on the table next to me several times.  I threw a full-blown adult temper tantrum.

It didn't take but a split second for my mind to comprehend the things we will be grieving:

• We will not get to hear HC's voice for another year.
• We will never change his diaper.
• I can send all my 2T clothes now.  I was saving some so that he would have some when he came home, but now we only have need of the larger clothing items.
• His room will be empty for another year.
• Reese will not have his little brother here with him for another year.
• More potential/time for getting moved around to new foster homes.
• Another Christmas, Valentines, Easter, birthday, Halloween and Thanksgiving that we don't get to be together.
• One less year that I will get to have him at home before he has to go to school.
• One more year of sending packages of items that I have no idea of whether or not they are useful or what he or his foster mother like/want.
• Another year to continue considering and reconsidering names, how we want his room, dreaming of what travel will be like - it's as if I've been "nesting" for 2 years.  Now I will do it for one more.  
• Another year of feeling like our lives are on hold.
• Another year will fade for the opportunity to have more children.

Woe is me.

I went to the bathroom - cried a lot, then I left work for a little while.

What I did next is what I wish my initial reaction would have been.  I drove to the church, and went into the Worship Center.  "Coincidentally" I had accidentally left my Bible at the church the night before when I was there for Celebrate Recovery - so I had it as well.  I didn't have to go to the church to be with God because He was with me when I opened the email, but I needed to go some place I could get my mind 100% focused on Him.

Face on the ground - center stage.  I found myself in the same helpless position as I have been so many other times in my life.  Out of control.  There's no other place to go.  At wits end.  With no understanding at all.  A complete hunger for an embrace that can somehow make it all be "okay".  

Awe.  How does this happen with our Lord?  How is it that in that moment of realizing complete helplessness, it somehow brings hope?

"The Lord sustains all who fall and raises up all who are bowed down.  

The eyes of all look to You, and You give them their food in due time.  

You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing." 

- Psalm 145:14-16

God has been faithful in EVERYTHING.  Just because we have received this news, it doesn't change who He is.  It seems like "bad" news, but if I believe what God spoke to my heart just a few weeks prior to this event (that He will give us more than we have asked), then I can only assume that this was just information.  It wasn't "bad" news - just information that will lead us to whatever it is that He has in store for us and for our sweet boy HC.  I don't know what that is, but I have no reason to doubt His faithfulness.

So, today, my heart is somewhat weary; the swelling from my crying eyes is starting to dwindle, and I'm looking forward to the days ahead.  Waiting is our theme for now, and we will take advantage of this time to... hmmm... Not sure what we are going to do with this time, but I doubt we will be lacking opportunities for adventure and growth.

To My Dearest HC:

You are my son.  Whether you are here or there, your face does not fade from my mind.  I know the Father's hand is upon you and your foster family.  There is no doubt that I grieve every moment that we are not with you, but I am thankful for the love and care you are receiving.  I can't wait to be the one to dress you, tell you "no!", and to be on the receiving end of your giggles and laughter.  I can't wait to see you playing with your big brother, and I can't wait to actually lay my hands on you while praying for you.  I can't wait to feel sad to leave you in the church nursery, but to see you face when we show back up!  I can't wait to struggle with you on the flight home, and brainstorm with your Dad how we are going to keep you in a car seat that you have NO desire to be in.  I can't wait to feed you kimchi, and see your face when you eat Mexican food for the first time.  I dream of seeing you sleeping in a bed that we have prepared for you, going to the zoo, and pushing you on a swing.  You are our son, Reese's brother - God has a plan for you, sweet boy, and it is good.

Love, 

Mommy