***Obligatory statement about having hoped to keep up with the blogging more than I have…***
I’m sitting in the rather spacious lobby of a church in
North Richland Hills, and I am straight up exhausted. And somehow, I feel very
much at peace. After a little bit of tossing and turning last night, I hit the
snooze button more than once when my alarm went off at 5:00am. I slumped out of
bed, got myself ready for the day, and rode to the airport with David. Some of
our sweetest friends left the country today. They are moving far, far away, and
even though it’s for the very best reason, it still makes me very sad.
They spent the last week at our house in preparation for the
move. And that means that almost every morning this past week, I’ve woken up to
the sound of sweet giggles and little feet slapping against our concrete
floors. This little girl can pretty much capture anyone’s heart within minutes
of meeting her, and I have been no exception. Remember how I said there are a
handful of children in this world that I love so much, it makes my heart ache? She’s
one of them for sure. And this week, the noise and the mess and the chaos that
comes with a 2 ½ year old reminded me of what David and I are working toward. The chance to love and care for and play with
and train and teach a child of our own.
So it’s appropriate
that only hours after holding that little one for the last time in a really long
while, we’re here at a church, taking the next steps in our adoption. We finally completed our application, and we're here for part one of our home study. I just
spent the last 2 ½ hours talking to a near-stranger about the ins and outs of
my life and childhood. To be fair, it wasn’t nearly as invasive as I thought. But
while David’s in there completing his interview, I’m grateful for the quiet
corner of this large building to stop and breathe and reflect.
How grateful I am to
the Lord for the way He works. When answering questions about my 32 years of
life, it’s difficult not to be thankful. How He’s protected me from so much
hardship. How He’s given me a truly wonderful man to be lifelong friends,
lovers, teammates with. How He’s surrounded us with friends and family who are
remarkably caring and supportive. How He’s walked us through a not-fun trial
only to bring us out looking more and more like Him in the process. How at the
end of this big, long process, we will hold our child in our arms and call him
or her “ours.”
So it’s very appropriate that tonight, I get to
stand before men and women of our church and sing of His goodness. I get to
praise Him for His faithfulness. I get to lift my hands and shout and dance and
sing – and thank Him for all He has done. And good grief, He’s done a lot.
