I know it's been awhile. I've been dealing with some turmoil, but, thankfully, have come out the other side. When I'm in that place of grinding, I can't write...or sometimes talk. I want to process it all on my own, establish my true feelings on the issue, and seek the Lord for direction before I move forward. Otherwise everyone else's thoughts and opinions start shaping my own. Know what I mean?
A couple of weeks ago we were presented an opportunity to adopt again (the baby's birth day is mere weeks away). We said no. Because of money. A mixture of hate and hurt worked through my heart quickly and it took a few days for God to get a hold of me. I hate infertility. I hate that it never goes away and has the potential to rear its ugliness at any moment. I hate that babies in adoption can often be treated like an eBay auction and that adoptive families have to play the game to win. I hate that there are endless numbers of children in orphanages all across the world that continue to sit there because of money. I hate that there are even more children sitting in foster care that families won't consider adopting because they see them as damaged, troubled, and second-rate. I hate that wanting more children makes me feel selfish.
This is going to be a mish-mash nonsensical rambling because that's the sort of truck that showed up to bulldoze my emotion, this week. I'm ready to take the big girl panties off and go back to days of ignorant bliss. Sometimes I just feel like throwing my hands up in the air and saying, "Lord. I'm tired of doing the right thing. Could we try the wrong-way approach this time?"
When I read some of my earlier blogs, I realize how far I've come. The woman who started this process is not the woman who types this today. I've seen too much. I was so baby focused for so long, it was impossible to see beyond it. Now that I do, it's impossible to think about our future family without seeing the devastation that it caused/will cause.
I know you're wondering what the heck I'm talking about. Back to the baby we said no to. Shocked? Me, too. We're not exactly in the position to turn down family members. But, you know what? Charging $20,000-40,000 to add to our family is robbery. In this instance, there was no physical way for us to come up with that sort of money in a matter of days, but even if there had been, we still would have said no. We drew a line in the sand months ago. We are only so willing to pay X amount of money for future children. It's such an unfair moral dilemma that adoptive families are thrown into. I've said this before; we understand that if we say no to a domestic adoption there are more than 100 families lined up behind us to say, yes. Kids in the foster care system aren't so lucky. This is how I know we have a future in foster care adoption. That being said, my heart still feels the pull of newborn, domestic adoption. It breaks my heart to think that I might never get to use all of Ty's baby things, again.
I'm in this constant state of flex. What I know and what I feel are always one upping the other.
To pile on to my already conflicting thoughts, God keeps bringing expectant women my way who (even if for a moment) are considering adoption. This is the area I've seen the most growth in my life. No longer do I see baby flags when I see these women. I see women. I see women struggling with a horrendous decision; women who are walking paths that I've never had to walk. And I have to do the right thing. I have to tell them the truth. I have to put the right resources in their hands....and, typically, I never see/hear from them again. Which is okay, because I know I've done what God's asked of me.
The night leading up to our formal decline (for the baby offered through an agency), I was a mess. The next morning, however, God grabbed me by the bootstraps and firmly said, "Don't go there." He quickly turned the motion picture of my life into reel and I sat in awe. God is in control of the plans that seems so out-of-control and that is enough for me. He knows me. He knows my heart, my urges, my cries. And I trust him.
How can I look at Ty and not trust that God's plan for my life is fuller than anything I could do on my own? When I ask Ty what noise the snake makes and I get the most adorable nose-scrunching "Sssssss" in reply, I know God is good. When I look at the compassion that just bursts from Ben's heart and the father that God's shaping him to be, I know God is good. When I hear the laughter and love in Rebekah's voice when talking about our boy, I know God is good. When I see my inherit, selfish nature morphing into reflections of my God, I know God is good.
I hope that no matter where you find yourself in life today, you, too, know that God is good.