on sleep, or lack thereof

Confession: I haven’t slept in almost two weeks.  I mean, I’ve slept but not good sleep.  Because, y’all, I’m not one of those crazy people who can do the whole four-hours-of-sleep-a-night thing.

First, it was pure, giddy “oh my sweet goodness, is this really happening? Did we really just get our referral?” inability to sleep.

And then, my type A, slightly OCDish self kicked into high gear and I simply could not sleep until all of our remaining paperwork was done.  No really, it was bad.  I was up at 3am scanning copies of our home study and sending emails to the west coast.  Declaring with authority to Matt that “I refuse to sleep until these last documents are notarized.” And I meant it.

But now?  Now it’s a different type of sleeplessness.  I’m up worrying.  Worrying that something will happen to our little girl.  That she’ll get malaria or will go hungry.  Worrying that we will lose our referral.  Or won’t pass court.  Or or or.

Ugh.  I hate this.  Why, after all of this, do I waste so much energy in worry?  I mean, have I not seen God open doors like nobody’s business, His faithful hand in every little detail of the process thus far?

How He led us through Rwanda so that we could trust Him even more in our process in the DRC.

How He has placed us in the hands of the most knowledgeable advocates for Congolese orphans, uh, ever.

How He has provided so faithfully for our adoption expenses.

How He has granted us a referral for sweet Elizabeth quicker than anyone expected or imagined.

And I could go on. and on. and on.

And so, for the millionth time in the past two years of this, I hand the reigns over to Him.  To the One who has called us and guided us.  The One who flawlessly and purposefully created our Congolese daughter in His image and loves her more than we ever could.