The Waiting Place
The waiting place, for anything, is full of ups and downs. And it's not a lot of fun.
I have been having more downs lately. Not more downs than ups. Just more downs than I previously have had.
We have been blessed with a busy year full of change and adventure and fun that has kept time chugging right along. But over the past couple of weeks, as we have settled into a new routine, I have been feeling the weight of what is happening more heavily.
We have a kid, or kids, in an orphanage.
(I know I have realized this before and I know there is a chance they are in foster care. There's even a chance they aren't even born yet. Bear with me. I'm having a down. You know I like to get a bit dramatic when I'm having a down.)
We can't ignore that, you guys. Kids in a tough situation.
Every time we sit down to a meal. Every time we rest on warm beds. Every time we hug and laugh. Every time we sing in church of freedom and forgiveness. Every time. Every time.
Caleb has a deployment coming up in a few months. We are praying that the timing of our adoption works out just perfectly with Caleb's travels and that his new squadron is understanding and accommodating and compassionate and supportive. I cannot deny that this is not another down I am facing. Being alone is hard.
Which brings me back to the fact that our kids in Bulgaria are alone. Actually alone. Without a family. And they are just kids. Do you see the down-cycle I am on?
Now, don't get me wrong. I am not overwhelmed. I am not depressed. I am not struggling to get through the day. I just feel more fully aware lately. Maybe it's because we are over a year into our wait so bringing them home seems so much closer. Maybe it's because I believe this is the house our Bulgarians will come home to. Maybe it's because J & E have grown up so much and oh-my-goodness-when-did-that-happen?!
Whatever it is, I feel the presence of another person who belongs with us. I feel the consistent urge to whisper, "We are coming for you. Just hang on." I feel a brown-haired, brown-eyed precious one lingering in the background. And I want so badly for him or her or them to come fully out into the light of our family.
I am praying for these sweet babies, the ones here and the ones there. I want to bring them home right now, and I want to make sure we definitely get to wait until Caleb returns from deployment because no way do I want to do this on my own. I want to release myself from the planning and turn it back to God for his timing since I don't have control of it anyway.
Life is so, so good but there is a pain that hangs out sometimes. And that's ok. That's because the world is broken. It's ok to feel that. And it's ok to not be overwhelmed by it.
The waiting place is hard, but it's ok to be there for a bit.
Ups and downs. Both are ok.
We are ok.
They will be ok.
I have been having more downs lately. Not more downs than ups. Just more downs than I previously have had.
We have been blessed with a busy year full of change and adventure and fun that has kept time chugging right along. But over the past couple of weeks, as we have settled into a new routine, I have been feeling the weight of what is happening more heavily.
We have a kid, or kids, in an orphanage.
(I know I have realized this before and I know there is a chance they are in foster care. There's even a chance they aren't even born yet. Bear with me. I'm having a down. You know I like to get a bit dramatic when I'm having a down.)
We can't ignore that, you guys. Kids in a tough situation.
Every time we sit down to a meal. Every time we rest on warm beds. Every time we hug and laugh. Every time we sing in church of freedom and forgiveness. Every time. Every time.
Caleb has a deployment coming up in a few months. We are praying that the timing of our adoption works out just perfectly with Caleb's travels and that his new squadron is understanding and accommodating and compassionate and supportive. I cannot deny that this is not another down I am facing. Being alone is hard.
Which brings me back to the fact that our kids in Bulgaria are alone. Actually alone. Without a family. And they are just kids. Do you see the down-cycle I am on?
Now, don't get me wrong. I am not overwhelmed. I am not depressed. I am not struggling to get through the day. I just feel more fully aware lately. Maybe it's because we are over a year into our wait so bringing them home seems so much closer. Maybe it's because I believe this is the house our Bulgarians will come home to. Maybe it's because J & E have grown up so much and oh-my-goodness-when-did-that-happen?!
Whatever it is, I feel the presence of another person who belongs with us. I feel the consistent urge to whisper, "We are coming for you. Just hang on." I feel a brown-haired, brown-eyed precious one lingering in the background. And I want so badly for him or her or them to come fully out into the light of our family.
I am praying for these sweet babies, the ones here and the ones there. I want to bring them home right now, and I want to make sure we definitely get to wait until Caleb returns from deployment because no way do I want to do this on my own. I want to release myself from the planning and turn it back to God for his timing since I don't have control of it anyway.
Life is so, so good but there is a pain that hangs out sometimes. And that's ok. That's because the world is broken. It's ok to feel that. And it's ok to not be overwhelmed by it.
The waiting place is hard, but it's ok to be there for a bit.
Ups and downs. Both are ok.
We are ok.
They will be ok.
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