It’s a new chapter, a fresh page.
Within minutes of making the decision to adopt again, my fingers flew across the keys in research. We know where we’ve been called, what we’re looking for, and we feel equipped to do it. There’s something invigorating about such confidence that was lacking the first time around.
After ten minutes of searching, however, my balloon began to deflate.
If I thought the manual to open domestic adoption was missing, it’s completely non-existent in foster care adoption. Every website I visited was a complicated mess of tangled details that left me with more questions than answers.
Finally, I found a site that listed Michigan adoption agencies and the type of adoptions they specialize in. I’m starting out very particular. I don’t want to use an agency that does anything more than foster care adoptions. My main reasons are both centered on pressure. I don’t want to be pressured into moving into a money-making sector of an agency, nor do I want to be talked into fostering.
For right now, we know that God is calling us to adopt child(ren) out of foster care. We don’t feel right about fostering kids with the end goal being adoption. It goes against the grain of the system’s reconciliation purpose and it doesn’t align with what we feel God’s asking us to do.
I could only find three agencies in our area that met my specifications, so I emailed all three the same snapshot. In essence, I described our passion for adoption, our openness to race and sibling groups, and our desire to honor birth order.
We may not always feel this way, but (again) for now, we would like Ty to be the oldest. Assuming assessment and placement takes around a year, we’re asking to look at children from 0-3 years old.
This morning, I received my top-picked agency’s response.
I’m sorry, but we’re only accepting applications of parents wishing to adopt children over the age of 8. Parents with your specifications wait years. If you change your mind, please contact us again.
My heart fluttered for a moment and I thought about how much easier it would be to ignore the call of God and run back to the familiar. (How backward is your reproductive life when adopting, domestically, is the easy answer?)
Thankfully, my heart surged forward and, with determination, I reminded myself that we have two more strikes. And if need be, two after that. And four after that…
God is beckoning.
We are moving.
My dreams are too big to contain. I hope you’ll join me as we turn the page.