Today the adoption process started.
That could be seen as an exaggeration – we submitted our first form to the first agency. I know there will be many more forms at probably more agencies.
But in another sense, the adoption process started a long time ago. That moment the Lord first caused a practical, unemotional (sometimes more bluntly labeled “harsh”) girl who never even thought she’d have kids to tear up at the thought of orphans. Just the concept of orphans. That there are children who think that they aren’t wanted, aren’t loved, aren’t worth it. And as I began to mature, the Lord unveiled another concept: that I myself am adopted. So unworthy, so dirty, so poor, so disabled, so sinful… and he picked me. And I wasn’t a “last resort.” He chose me first, and chose me forever.
He started working on Ryan, before I was his and he was mine. We didn’t know a lot back then, but we knew we each felt a calling. We are all instructed to care for the orphan, but Ryan and I are called to adopt the orphan. Individually, and now as one.
This past year I have been working on being still. “Be still and know that I God.” I have been working on being honest with my emotions, to God and to myself.
So I will be honest.
I am scared. I am scared that what I think is God is really my own selfish desires. How could adopting be selfish? Because I can put off going through pregnancy while getting everyone off my back about kids. Because people at church will admire our decision to adopt without infertility issues. Because I’m scared of and bad at evangelism, and maybe adoption will enable an easy lead-in to Gospel conversations. “Why did you adopt?” “Because I was first adopted by the king of kings.”
I’m scared it will ruin my marriage. Marriage is easy when life is easy.
I’m scared Ryan, or I, won’t be able to attach. What a terrible person I would be.
I’m scared everything, EVERYTHING, will become about this child, and I won’t even know who I am anymore.
There it is. My fear. I want to face it or it will consume me without even showing its face to me. Lord, be present in my fear. Fill me up with You so that fear doesn’t have any room to occupy.
Today was step 1. Who will he, or she, or they, be? God knows. He knows that I will never be ready to parent a child. I am too selfish. But I know that he is the perfect Father, and as I run after Him, He will transform me into someone who is a little more like Him. Lord, prepare me. Prepare me to fight for my child, even now as I’m months, maybe years, away from knowing his, her, or their name. As I fight to know You more, I am fighting for the orphan.