Like many in the adoption process (and honestly, like all of us in most stages of our lives), we find ourselves waiting. On the surface, we have been waiting 8 months since we were match with our boys with little progress towards bringing them home from DR Congo. The wait is hard, the wait is long, and yet the wait teaches us.
Most of my journey in the wait has been in asking questions: What does waiting look like? is it a passive stance wherein we wait for news, demonstrating what is most often perceived as “peace and patience”? Is it contradictory to wait while being proactive, assertive, a squeaky wheel at times, and even demanding? How does a peace that comes with waiting fit into the knowledge that each day that passes keeps my boys in an orphanage without a mother or father and adequate nutrition? How do I wait and dwell presently in the moment with my children at home, even while half of my heart and mind is 8,000 miles away with my boys?
While I don’t have answers to these questions, and daily I continue to face these and many other questions, I do know a few things: I know that we have a Heavenly Father who loves my boys infinitely more than I could ever possibly hope to. He is also their strong advocate, their creator, their redeemer, and their sustainer. I have a God who is not caught off guard by the adoption suspensions in Congo, is not overpowered by the mountains of bureaucratic pileup that make the boys’ and hundreds of other children’s homecoming seem impossibly far away. I serve a God who is not overcome by the depth of my emotions, the anguish of my waiting, the complexity of the way we try to process it all. He goes to the depths with us; he is with us in the heights. He wrestled with Jacob; He can surely walk this path with me and you.