It has been A LONG time since I have posted. It is safe to assume that if I'm not posting, there is not much to say. Elections have been completed in Lesotho and when I last spoke with our agency's director, the country was in the middle of appointing new Principal Secretaries. We are praying that the social welfare dept. is appointed with a P.S. with a heart for orphans. So, here we sit and wait.
This journey has been both easier than I expected and more difficult. Someday maybe I'll write about how it has been easier, but today, let me describe what has been tough. I am not patient. Its not that I can't handle the waiting, its really the uncertainty that is taxing. When will things begin moving? Will we ever even BE matched with a son? What is the plan, exactly?
When we spoke with our director earlier this year, she indicated that there were other options to explore outside of the Kingdom of Lesotho. You can imagine our conversations as we rapidly swung from one side to the other in pondering the wisdom in changing programs. And then, I heard God's voice. (It should be noted that I have never claimed to nor never expected for the Lord to speak to me directly, and so it came as quit a shock.)
The morning after our email conversation with the director, and following our conversations flooded with different types of emotions, I lay in bed. I began praying for clarity. I had also asked our family to pray for clarity. I needed an ANSWER. And, spoiler alert, I received one. It is important for you to note that there was a specific child we were considering considering (if you can understand that). So, as I lay there, my inner thoughts abruptly concluded that 'this is not our son'. I said to myself, but is that just my thought? Where did it originate from?, how can I tell if this is God?, and so on.... and then interrupting this pattern of questioning.... "I have a son for you". Clear and bold. These words were different from my own. I began to tear up (as I often do when I pray). I was stunned and quiet. My confusion was immediately gone and certainty took its place. It was difficult to accept. Throughout the day, I challenged this idea that we had to wait longer, and tried to get myself excited again about the possibility of making a switch, of setting out a plan. But I couldn't get pumped up. We had an answer.
And that is where we are. The Lord did not guarantee us where our son would come from, or when we would meet him. One thing I noticed about myself throughout my fertility treatments and even during my pregnancy, is I find comfort in information. I was practically a fertility nurse by the end of my 3 month journey through fertility treatments. I knew medication names, time lines, anatomy functions, etc. By the end of my pregnancy, I knew when C-sections are indicated, what placenta previa was (even though I never had it), how to restrict my diet in case I should get gestational diabetes. ALL of it. Adoption is not like that. I have read parenting books and studied how to increase attachment and bonding and how to handle the challenges of a conspicuous adoption. BUT, nothing can tell me when/if an African government will continue an adoption program; if orphanages will have everything in order to help children get matched (you can imagine how limited on resources they are); if we will get matched, when they do eventually have a meeting; how old our son will be; what barriers there are, and how I can prepare for them. I know none of it.
I started running in the morning. That is another post for a different kind of blog :) But on these runs, I find time to talk to Jesus. I love talking to Jesus. And as I was chatting, I felt urged to surrender. To surrender to the not knowing. The day before my walk/jog, I had emailed our director for the second time this month to press for any scrap of knowledge she could share, and so I knew what I was meant to do. I am supposed to stop Google'ing any combinations of the words "Lesotho, adoption, principle secretaries, blogs, orphanages, etc." I am supposed to leave our sweet and dedicated director alone. {Please note this is not my advise to other families waiting to adopt. This is personal, and about my faith}. For me, clinging to knowledge helps me feel less vulnerable. And so, to allow my relationship with the Lord to grow, I have to let go of the side of the pool and trust that my life vest is going to keep my head above water. No amount of knowing keeps me safe and no amount of knowing gets my son closer to us. And so I am learning to rest. I find myself stretching for that pool side often, but pray that the Lord helps me let it go again.
I feel like this is everything my blog posts have been about so far. It is my own journey in learning how to trust in the Lord. Fully. Not just the, yes BUT kind of faith. But the all in, unguarded hoping and praying for everything, believing in the outcome and His will kind of faith. I don't have it yet. I have found the Lord is gracious in comforting me and supplementing me when my faith has faltered. So now as I love my son from far away, I wait hopefully, expectantly, lovingly, mostly faithfully and somewhat patiently for our first encounters.
