One week ago I posted a sentimental raw post about the apartment we have made home for the past/first three years of our marriage. It was a tribute to the small place we call home, the apartment that has etched itself into our hearts and been the space for many foundational moments of our marriage and family building.
I don't feel the need to explain every last detail, so I won't. But what you can know is this: it was confusing and painful and frustrating and I shed so many tears. Its the year of tears and I have accepted that. Jesus is in tears just as much as He is in laughter. As we unpacked the entirety of our treasures and belongings late Saturday night, silent drops fell from my eyes and I pathetically said over and over again, "I have to go to the laundromat next week." OOOOh Pity.
Sunday, nearly every person and their mom asked, "When is moving day? Don't you get the keys tomorrow?!" Sometimes I answered and explained and other times I simply said, "We're not moving. I don't want to talk about it," and then I didn't. Defeat and embarrassment barely scratches the surface of what I was feeling.
I had began to question if we even heard Him right with adoption: are we crazy? Did we make this all up? Right when I was feeling all of this for the first time, regarding adoption, an article popped into my head. I had read it a week prior and it was written by an adoptive momma. She and her husband questioned time and time again if they had followed God into the adoption journey, or if they made it up. And time and time again, she was reminded that there was no possible way she would be where she was at without Him. That there is no way she and her husband would have been there, without the leading and grace of Jesus. They wouldn't have their babies, their children, hadn't they followed Him into it. Had they quit and given up during the pain of waiting, of every single step along the way, they wouldn't have their kids.
Our dearest pals, my brother and sister [in-law] and their two babies, drove down from Portland right after church to spend the day with us as we melted and put our apartment back together. They helped patch up the holes in the walls and paint over the scrapes and scratches, the bruises from living in this place. They helped scrub base boards and windows and window tracks. They helped take down curtain rods that weren't curtain rods and hang up new ones. We talked and we shed a few tears and we laughed and we sweat and we watched their wild child be a gift of joy. Those four people are salve to my soul and I hope to love like them.
My friend and I met for coffee yesterday morning. She is the type of person that is trustworthy and safe, healthy and healthy again. She loves Jesus and prays for you when she is with you and when she is not. She is a writer and a feeler and a melancholy all in one, and so much more. She asked me how I was and I teared up and told her I feel so confused. How could something as simple and huge as a move across town feel so right, so right, so right and then suddenly WHAM feel so incredibly wrong all at once? How could we go from being excited and at peace to suddenly unpacking our entire home in the same home we started in? We had nearly everything packed. Everything. Every.Thing. I even had a little laundry bag all set up for my first wash.
My friend told me she thought of Abraham and Isaac. "When I left Sunday after church, I couldn't help but think of Abraham and how God asked Him to sacrifice His son. How Abraham obeyed and went through every last step of preparation and at the last minute, God stopped Him. But Abraham obeyed like a crazy man, because He was asked to." Inside something crumbled and melted into a pile of mush, a sigh of relief for my soul. I had felt so crazy, so humiliated, so dumb. We were confident that this was the place for us, this small tiny home of a duplex with a garage and a yard and a washer and dryer...and then suddenly and all at once a turn of many hearts told us to stop. I didn't feel so crazy or stupid after she shared that with me.
There is so much faith in the obedience. In the following and halting even when it doesn't make sense. In trusting amidst the insurmountable uncertainties. I draw strength knowing that He knows.
Right now I feel I don't know anything about our life. It feels like nothing is certain; I want to be back to the heart-space that gets excited for uncertainties and unknowns. This year has been hard and painful. But this adoption journey has ushered joy and hope along side the hard and painful. I know this will all be used - all of this hands-open, tug-of-war with my heart between God and I, this entire year of pain and joy intermingled into one long, lonely-feeling, conjoined experience.
I want to fall back in love with the journey of the unknowingness, of the beauty of being in a completely open and ready space. I don't know how ready I am, but I know that God is doing a whole lot more than I can see. I know that because it wouldn't make sense if He wasn't. And that Truth gives me peace when I allow myself to think about it.
The day we halted the move and unpacked our home, our social worker emailed us and we scheduled our first couple home study visits. Our first visit is today - we are on our way to Beaverton to sit an her office for three-ish hours. We will be interviewed so that she can get to know us and our family, why we are adopting, how we hope to operate as a family; they ask about finances, infertility and miscarriage, plans, your marriage, discipline goals. All sorts of really good, possibly painful but good, things to talk about and process.
We are not anxious and for that I am grateful. We are ready to get this show on the road and find our baby and his or her birth momma.
If you would take a moment to pray for our Birth Momma, wherever she is, please do. Pray that she is overcome by the grace of Jesus, that she knows she is loved, and that she is confident in her decision. Pray for health and healing. Pray for freedom. When I think of her, I am overcome by joy and love and hope. I am amazed and I cannot imagine her level of courage and sacrifice.
We got our coffees and we are on our way! [mine is decaf...placebo effect?]