When we felt stirrings to adopt again last spring, we developed a kind-of mission statement. We’d heard there was a need for families for African-American babies – particularly boys. So our goal was this: We don’t want to find a child for our family. We want to be a family found for a child.
A profound difference separates the two. It’s unfair for a black woman to have 2 profile books to review when making an adoption plan, while a white woman could have 60 or more. We would be another option – even if it meant hearing “no” after “no” after “no”.
I didn’t imagine how it would feel to hear “no”. I found out about a month ago. Our Ideal Situation presented itself in late April. The baby was a healthy, African-American boy, due May 19. The fees were slightly higher than what we’d prepared for because the referral would come through a different agency, so our social worker had to get our verbal approval before submitting our book. We waited. A week later we learned we were not chosen.
During my soul-search, it occurred to me that the words “Ideal Situation” had danced through my mind a little too often. I was getting hooked on the idea of getting a baby for our family. The notion of being a family for a baby was fading terrifyingly quickly. I was gently reminded one morning during my devotions of our mission statement. I couldn’t believe how easily I’d gone to the other side. I was disappointed (though not surprised) with myself. I vowed to reform.
Soon after, we were presented with what was NOT our Ideal Situation. There was a little bit of drug use in this mom’s medical history. I bristled. I thought, “no” but I forwarded the email to Joe anyway. I was supposed to provide devotions at Katelyn’s Fund that week, so I searched “adoption” on Russell Moore’s blog. I came upon a perfect message – both for our upcoming meeting, and for me, that very day. It was all about fear.
Fear was preventing me from making a sound decision on this situation. So we educated ourselves, we prayed, we talked. We submitted our book. We offered to be a family for this baby. We waited.
Days later, another email arrived. This time the expectant mom was heavily using throughout her entire pregnancy. FEAR. Overwhelming fear. We called OTIS. We talked. We prayed. We wrestled. We recoiled. We worried. We prayed. We searched forums on adopting drug-addicted babies (yep, there is such a thing). We searched our souls. We submitted our book – again offering to be a family for a baby. We waited.
We heard “no”, again.
I can’t describe that brand of disappointment.
I just can’t.
And still, there is light. {Light}
We are being molded. The adoption process is always more about God than us. Not that we have that thought on the forefront of our brains by any means, but as the tears fall, we begin to see more clearly the character of God. He reminds us Who He is and who He wants us to be (Refiner’s fire). This was true in 2007 when we waited for Jett and it’s true today. God took us from clinging to our Ideal Situation to saying “YES” to a heroin-addicted newborn in a month’s time. He is eradicating the fear preventing us from living out His call to care for the fatherless. (James 1:27)
What does He have in store for our family?
Is there a baby in our future?
Or are we simply destined for more spiritual growth?
Has He set us apart just to be that extra book, that additional option for an expectant mom making an adoption plan?
Is He asking us to focus on prayer for these families and agencies and babies?
We don’t know what He has planned for us. But He is changing us and using us.
We are grateful, because we’ve been Chosen.
Taken from a blog post by Heather.
