I knew about you before you were born. I prayed for you, cried for you and you were in every waking moment of my day.
The email came saying “it’s a boy”. You were my son and I knew it in my heart. I named you, and continued to pray for you. I begged for God to open the doors and show me the path to bring you home.
It’s been over a year and now I am in the lean months, my work is done and I must wait. The papers are making their way through the many required steps. Your sister waits for you and smiles when she sees your pictures, she has many plans for you. Your dad worries about the finances needed and how we will do it. His eyes sparkle when we get new photos.
It’s quiet. No emails come telling us where we are at and what we need to do.
I’m trying to push forward, not focus on the wait.
I remember this now from when we adopted your sister. Wavering between feeling good and having faith about the quiet. Then struggling for a couple of days with all the unanswered questions, wondering, missing out on your days.
I feel the distance.
From you. From reality outside of my bubble of adoption. From God. He isn’t quiet, but on these days I don’t hear Him. I am in the stage of ‘doing’ and praying. Not meditating, not learning, not reading about His plans for us. I’m selfish and focused only on what is next for us.
I need to lean into this journey and look The One who has brought you to me. Even if some days I can only successfully do it one minute at a time.
In the meantime, know how much you are loved.