I've dreaded this post for weeks, but after some emotional sorting-out and the Lord's amazing work on my heart, it's time to address what happened with E.
First, let me say I never saw it coming. Children available for adoption always have trauma, but sometimes the trauma does crazy things to a child's behavior. This was such the case with E - it was like a switch flipped, so we were forced to remove her from our home and not finalize the adoption. We were assured of what God wanted us to do, but the emotional, physical, and spiritual heaviness in our house was unbearable. And the thought of not being able to help a child fully heal was devastating. I know this kind of thing happens, but I still don't know why it happened with her. And I may never know why...but I accept it.
Everything happened so fast that we were literally reeling through the battle. I couldn't eat, I barely slept, and the constant headaches and stomachaches quickly became the new norm. Carey had to literally make himself distant to cope with the situation. Our family was splitting in two and the more my husband drew away the more I pushed forward. I had to help this child. She had to make it in our family. We were going in opposite directions. That was until the day of acceptance arrived so clearly and the Lord had to lovingly point out that I made vows to Carey, not any of the kids. And I understood the message loud and clear: My marriage was not to be forfeited over my desperate need to not "fail."
And that can seem awfully hypocritical to someone who is outside of the situation. "Wait, aren't Christians supposed to unequivocally love others, especially those who need it?" Yes, that's what we were trying to do, and we don't regret bringing E to Texas. It has been amazing to see how God has worked through all of our lives, even in devastation. To see the beauty in the mess. The beauty was a mother-in-law whose hospitality swooped in, a mother whose practical words brought me back into line with reality, a sister-in-law who dropped everything just to be with me, and a best friend who brought relief for my immense sorrow. The beauty was in the Spirit's prompting to "Rise up...[because he was] with me" as my body shook in anxiety and then became strengthened to physically deal with the logistics. But it became apparent, without a doubt, that we were not the ones meant to help E arrive to her final healing. We were only a piece of her journey. And I will confidently stand before God one day to account for the love I had for her. But it wasn't his will for her to be a permanent part of our family.
I often think of what I would say to her, knowing that she might one day read this post. I want her to know that I did love her. I want her to know that only Jesus can heal her, but she has to be open to the healing. I want her to know that I envisioned having her in my life forever. You were my daughter. But more importantly, you are God's daughter, and you need so much more than I could ever give you.
Today I finally forgave E. After ignoring the emotional responses to everything that has happened, I have been able to finally arrive and "care" about what happened. I have been able to silence the logic long enough to live in the emotions. I have allowed my self to feel angry, disappointed, frustrated, ignored, alone, relieved, anxious, hurt, loved by the Savior, and held in his arms. And while I'm finally "caring" again, it will still be a process. I want this experience to grow even more compassion in my heart for those in need. And even though the Lord's compass is slowing now, it's still calibrating. So, I don't know where to go from here other than to love my family and friends more deeply, live with more joy, and be more assured than ever of God's love. I don't know what his next task for me will be, but I'm glad to hand him my broken dream to see how he resurrects it. All I know is it will bring the upmost beauty to the mess and I'm glad to have a front row seat!
Our adoption journey is now complete. We certainly lived with the expectation of a different result, but we can't argue with the peace that now floods our hearts. We pray our experience doesn't deter others from pursuing adoption, but that it will serve as a testament of God's ever-present love and omniscience. And while a recent onslaught of catastrophes seem to have enslaved our world, we voice that God's goodness doesn't fade away when unexplainable things occur. Rather, it morphs into a deep understanding that our souls are yearning for our salvation to be complete. Come, Lord Jesus, come!
Now joy seeps from the walls of our home and endless laughter can be heard again. And I am more protective of my husband and boys because of a growing, fervent respect for God's provision. His perfect peace is restoring our faith and preparing us to move forward. And we will. Maybe not in the next few days or weeks, but soon the Lord will reveal his next assignment for our family. Until then, we will be imperfectly silly and wonderfully messy. Because, after all, each of us have beauty to offer from within the mess.
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