I thought the moments would get easier. With a picture in my hand I could conquer the world. I have a son. He is mine. Before the courts and the governments and even he says so, my heart knows it's true.
I thought this revelation would make it easier but it doesn't. It means the chance to lose him becomes even more real.
Today we received an email that literally made me breathe easier. Ethiopia's children's welfare division has agreed to keep adoptions open and continue to push for reform. They said they would tell us their decision a week and a half ago but we finally know today. I sigh and praise my God that one of the barriers to getting my child home is out of the way. This hurdle could have kept him from us permanently. He's closer. He's still ours.
For now.
I think, in a way, the fear always stays. It solidifies my entrance into motherhood. This threat, the latest one, will not take him from us. There are so many more doors to walk through. The legal ones yet to come with no guarantees that the paperwork and the signatures will arrive. The emotional ones, as we pray he will accept us into his life and trust us. The physical ones as we put him in schools and student ministry trips and so many other places to come where we can't make sure he doesn't break. He is ours and he is never fully ours. He is given to us.
1 Sam 1:27 "I prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of him."
But we all hold our children loosely, with open palms. The ones we know. The ones we've yet to meet. The ones that nuzzle us in the night. The ones that call us to tell us their college woes. The ones that are only dreams in our heads, dreams we won't even share out loud for fear we'll be broken beyond comprehension if they don't become reality. They are all held with palms open to the sky, praying that our God blesses us with many days with their presence. Their smiles. Their wonder. It's prayed for but never guaranteed. And every mom knows.
So while I may not have a child in a bed in my home for a while longer, I feel the mama bear in me coming out in full force. I am so thankful for Ethiopia keeping its doors open, as I keep my palms open to the sky, praying for grace and blessings in this journey of being a mom.
Jesus, be near. For my sake. And his.
So true! After this latest scare, I said to my husband - 'I think God wants us to hold on to this adoption loosely.' It was a good lesson that we are NOT in control and that the outcome will be His and His alone.
ReplyDeleteAnd yet how hard is it, Rachel!! So hard for me!!! Praying for you!
DeleteI think its so wise for you to have an open palms, hold loosely mentality. I think it takes first time moms a very long time to be okay with the separation, to brace for the inevitable losses and disappointments. It wasn't until my third miscarriage, a child that I did pray for and actually named Samuel as a result of those prayers and lessons I learned from Hannah, it wasn't until then that I realized the children I might care for aren't MINE. I love them, I will serve them, but I don't own them/deserve them/keep them forever. They are God's.
ReplyDeleteSo you are really wise here!
Thank you, Bethany. I am sure I will need to learn it over and over and over again.
DeleteUmmm, please tell me you have read One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp (and forgive me if we have discussed this before). Greatest and BEST lesson I learned from her book: Open palms. I have a blog post in waiting about this right now because this idea has transformed me into a much more joyful and peaceful person. It has been unreal. (Just letting the post marinate.) I have never felt so good about losing my grasp.
ReplyDeleteGlad you wrote about this. Plenty of us could find rest if we lived more like this all the time.
Jenny, I haven't read it. Well. I take that back. I read one chapter in November and got distracted had haven't gone back. I need to go read the rest! Thanks for the reminder.
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