I’ve been thinking lately about all this rush to get our paperwork completed. On the heels of several conversations with new moms letting me in on how dramatically their lives have changed, I might expect that I’d be dragging my feet a bit so as to give myself a few more slow Saturday mornings or hours in the day of peace and quiet, just me and God.
Why are we both wanting to move so quickly through this?
The other night, at a weekly prayer meeting we have for our church, a few people were praying for our girls. Ugh, even as I type now my heart feels like a thousand pounds in my chest. My daughters are alive on this earth. They are in their core developmental stages, learning life … on the other side of the world, in poverty.
As our friends prayed the other night, my mind was flooded with questions. Where are they sleeping? Who’s giving them food? What do they have to keep them warm at night, as Ethiopian nights carry a chill? Do they have someone hugging them or holding them or even making them laugh?
If I believe that from the beginning of time God purposed for these girls to be our daughters, which I do, then the thoughts and feelings I struggle with now in regards to their safety only make sense. They are ours. In our arms or under our roof needn’t matter, these girls have been entrusted to us by God.
Our house has even begun to feel empty lately. It’s strange, but there are times where I find myself almost expectant of a child to shimmy down the stairs on their bum or bound into our room.
Though even with our anxious anticipation of bringing these girls home, the end goal for us has not changed. God, would you use this – every last bit of it – to draw us closer to You? The end goal is knowing Him and parenting, or waiting on the one-day chance of parenting, these two Ethiopian girls just happens to be the avenue taking us there.
In Psalm 68:31 it says Ethiopia will quickly stretch out her hands to God. As I wait, thinking sometimes hourly about the new lives God is preparing to meld into our family and how they themselves are faring in this waiting process, I pray the same for them. It’s the only way I can reconcile my daughters being exposed to the pain and suffering that comes with abandonment and loss. Lord, would you draw them close to you? Would you teach them to stretch out their little hands to you? Would you grow their hope?
And soon, although not soon enough, we will get to see living proof of the God who promises to give beauty in exchange for ashes and joy for mourning….