Along the rural Missouri roads earlier this week, the kids asked which “city” we’re in, when we’ll get where we’re going, and how long it’s been since we left home. We answered their questions. But my 4-year-old boy has no concept of time or miles and my 6-year-old girl is just developing the ability the make sense of such measurements.
Our mini van is full of gifts for loved ones, suitcases for our five days away, much laughter, some Christmas songs (yes, before Thanksgiving this year), and little lessons. We showed them where the Ohio River meets the Mississippi River. We talked about what’s ahead. And we let them be silly in their back-seat boosters.
Our family is blessed. We’ve been given much and have these amazing adoption stories that proclaim God’s faithfulness.
But, honestly, I believe my son was created to be a middle child. He likes to make people laugh. He’s mischievously independent. He’s sweet and pays more attention to what’s happening than he likes to let on. He’s annoys his sister out of twisted boy love and I’ve seen him care for those younger than him.
This belief that he’s supposed to be in the middle is part of why I believe God is calling us to adopt again. There a desire in my heart and my husband’s to add another child to our family. We have preferences and opinions and thoughts, but we’re trying to be open to where God leads. It’s been a rougher journey this time than the other two times. But through it all I’ve heard God say, “Wait. I’m not done.”
At the beginning of 2012, I decided it was time to start a third adoption process. So we put our desire out there. You’d think I’d realize I’m not in control of the minutes and hours and days. Here we are, waiting again. But this time my heart knows more.
We’ve updated our home study more than once. An adoption attorney has our family profile and has shown it to birth moms. We’ve researched agencies and consultants. We’ve thought we were on track only to be detailed in an emotional way. We’re meeting with an agency in Louisville next month to see if that’s the route we should go.
We believe we’ll adopt again, even though we aren’t sure how or when or who. We believe because we can look back on the way God created and grew our family and trust that He has a plan that will be better than anything we expect or plan.
While waiting, I’ve heard God speak to my heart about how this one will be different. I’m not sure how. Maybe we won’t bring a newborn home from the hospital this time. Maybe this time the child won’t physically look like us.
I can look in the rear view mirror of life and see where we’ve been. I take steps toward where I think we’re going. But, honestly, I don’t have much concept of time and distance with this journey this time.
And that’s OK. The ultimate map maker has a plan. He’s leading my family where he wants us. For his glory.
Some days I do want to ask, “Are we there yet?” just like my kids do. And then I’m reminded that life isn’t about arriving as much as it is about the journey. I told my kids that when it took us 12 hours — twice the usual time — to go from our house to our condo in Branson, Mo., because we spent two hours visiting with distant relatives turned friends and then hours in the original Bass Pro Shops, where we shopped and ate dinner.
We meet God and people who become part of our stories along the way. We see the sights and gather for meals. We make pit stops and sometimes are delayed. I’m not sure where this adoption journey is going, but I trust the one leading us down the road.
This is the 14th and final post in this month’s adoption series. You can read all the posts here. Want more stories? Like 152 Insights on Facebook. Follow me on Twitter and Instagram. Follow 152 Insights at Bloglovin’. Subscribe to receive “Insights in Your Inbox.”
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