Rough week

Most of those who read this blog have probably already heard the news, but for those of you who haven't, here it is:

Rwanda has decided to suspend all new adoptions as of August 31st until they are able to implement guidelines and procedures in accordance with the Hague Convention (the Hague is a way of guarding against child trafficking and abuse in regards to adoption). This means that anyone who has not yet submitted a dossier by next Tuesday will be unable to do so until further notice. The suspension could be mere months (unlikely) or several years.

Those who have already submitted authenticated dossiers (like us) will have their files processed according to the traditional guidelines. Still no word on how long that might take, but it sounds like it WILL happen.

As you can imagine, the Rwandan adoption community is reeling. So many friends were days away from having completed dossiers, and now the door has been slammed in their faces. All that work and all those dreams, trampled.

It's heartbreaking to comprehend. I think about names that have been chosen, nurseries that have been decorated, gifts that have been purchased...so many people devastated, angry, discouraged, confused.

This is where the questions arise. Did God really lead us down this path, or did we push ourselves in this direction? Was this all a mistake? How could He give us this dream and then crush it?

The weird thing is, I've imagined this scenario multiple times. Well, not this one exactly. More like: if Tim or I were to be diagnosed with some serious medical condition and our adoption denied because of it, how would I feel? I would be asking these questions and more. I would be asking, Is God still good? Do I trust Him?

Isn't that what it ultimately comes down to in the end? Trust. Adoption is about a lot of things, but lately trust seems to be at the top of the list.

I don't have answers, but I have prayers, and at the moment I have trust. For those of you who are hurting, I'm hurting with you. Just hold on and choose to trust, even though your heart is probably screaming against it. You're not alone. This isn't the end of your journey. Just hold on.

Family

One of the most commonly quoted Bible passages among the adoptive community seems to be Psalm 68:5-6A: "A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families...." I've always loved these words, but lately I've discovered their truth on an even deeper level.

When we bid farewell to our dossier last October, I remember thinking, "Whew! The paperwork chaos is over, now we just have to wait." A friend had told me that the waiting would be the hardest part of adopting, and in my head I thought believed her. But as is always the case, only time and experience could prove just how right she'd been.

Last Wednesday we crossed mile marker 15. Fifteen months since we applied to adopt from Rwanda. Last weekend was also the eight-month anniversary of our dossier arriving in Kigali. There's still no end in sight. A few hopeful rumors here and there, but mostly what we hear is silence.

When I pray for our child, for our adoption, for my adoptive friends, I can't find words. I used them up months ago. So instead of saying anything I mentally climb into Jesus' lap and cry for a while. I know he hears my heart. He hears and he cares. And although I didn't see it until recently, I know he's responding.

"God sets the lonely in families..."

I used to hear that verse and think of orphans and widows. Now I realize that I'm the lonely one. There are days when the waiting consumes me. Thoughts of my child, questions without answers, yearning that can't be satisfied...these things tempt me to sink into myself. I crave isolation, and desperately need to avoid it.

God knows this. It's what he hears in my heart when I cry. So in His faithfulness He has set me in a family... a waiting family. It stretches across the country. Georgia, Alaska, Texas, Virginia, California, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Tennessee, Colorado... Together, we wait for our children. Together, we ask the same questions that don't have answers. Together, we yearn for the same things and struggle with our inability to act.

I don't know what I would do without these other waiting moms, and those who have endured the silence to finally feel the sweet weight of reality the first time they held their children.

If you're one of these, I hope you know how precious you are to me. How thankful I am that God has set me in your family. And I hope you know how jubilant my rejoicing will be when each of you finally hear the news we're all craving.

I cannot think of a trial or a pain

He did not recycle to bring me gain

I cannot think of a single regret

In serving Him only, and trusting His hand...

God has been faithful, He will be again...

All we have need of, His hand will provide

He's always been faithful to me

~Sara Groves