On the eighth of August, 2011, a super official looking letter from the Republic of Rwanda was stamped and signed declaring that the government had “no objection” to our application to adopt. This was good. Very good. However, as we read further, we saw the clause for which we had been prepared. This small little sentence warned that if we did not receive a referral within six months, our file “will be deemed to be closed.”
Today marks six months since that date.
And I have been an emotional basketcase.
At this point, rumors continue to fly regarding this whole six month deal. And while the wait to bring our son home becomes increasingly difficult with each passing day, I believe it is the vast uncertainty that is really hitting me the hardest. Will we even have a dossier in Rwanda after today? In an apparent effort to kick me while I’m down, we received an intent form for the coming year at my kids’ school yesterday. Nestled at the bottom of the form sits a box to check if “our family anticipates needing infant care in 2012-2013”. In my emotional state yesterday, I was tempted to write out a long diatribe to say, “Sweet goodness, I hope we need infant care next year but why would you dare ask me such a preposterous question when I am in an obviously fragile state due to the unpredictable nature of international adoptions? Did you not see my bloodshot eyes this morning??”. I didn’t. And you’re welcome.
The ever-shifting reports we hear regarding Rwandan adoptions leave me breathless and grasping for something abundantly true and certain. Thank God, I have this in Christ. Otherwise, all bets would be off at this point in regards to my mental sanity. During the course of the past two years, He has proved Himself so faithful and powerful and compassionate and trustworthy. Over and over again, I have felt Him saying, “Stop trusting in the process, my child. Trust in me.”
But wait. Before you think I’m getting too super-Christian on you, hear me out. Because, y’all, my heart remains so gross. Get this… oh, and this hurts to even admit… but you wanna know my initial gut reaction to the recent amazingly wonderful and joyful news of other families receiving referrals? The very first emotion to spill from my sin-ridden heart was… wait for it… jealousy. Sure, I was/am overjoyed that children who were once orphans are no longer. But I was/am also insanely jealous. I mean, we, too, totally deserve a referral now, right? We’ve paid our dues and waited long enough and so, God, how ’bout you finally hold up your end of the deal. K?
Someone please shut me up while I’m ahead. Scratch that… was I ever ahead?
I know this post is so very jumbled, but that’s the state of my mind at present. A big mixed-up bag of emotions. Probably with mascara-stained eyes to boot. But even on the perpetual-lump-in-the-throat days, God is still good. When another Friday afternoon comes and goes without news of referrals, God is good. When our caseworker sends yet another no-news-from-Rwanda email, God is good. And man is He good when He forgives me once again of the jealousy, anxiety, and impatience that have seemed to creep into my heart recently.
God’s goodness. It’s been the anthem of our adoption journey thus far, and I can assure you that it will always be. And so we continue to wait. And pray like mad, trusting that we have a God who “defends the cause of the fatherless” (Deuteronomy 10:18) and assures us that “our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (2 Corinthians 4:17).