Wednesday, April 27, 2011

A word to my sisters and brothers adopting from Ethiopia who may be depressed and or/pulling out their hair

I hate this wait. I hate the roller coaster we've been on lately. I hate not knowing if I'll have a baby by Christmas or maybe Easter or maybe next Christmas.

But I think it is a little easier on me because I planned my wedding when I was 12. I have a notebook where I wrote out fake wedding announcements, and all through high school I carried wedding dresses torn out from Bride's Magazine in my wallet - ugly 80s wedding dresses with many, many beads and poofy shoulders and those weird headbands that had dangly things down their cheeks.

My senior year of college, I looked at my roommate and said, "We have three months left to get our MRS's! Ready, set, go!!" I spent my 20s trying desperately to wrangle a guy into marrying me. Many guys. It never worked, and I was very disappointed. When I was 32 - ten years late for that MRS - I was dating a guy I was just sure was Mr. Right, but was so frustrated that we just couldn't seem to help driving each other crazy. But then my best friend looked at me and said, "Break up with him and marry me." And I did. And it was the BEST decision of my life - and the reason it was so good is because I DIDN'T MAKE IT. God grabbed him and dropped him smack dab in my lap like a ton of bricks leaving me completely out of the planning process because he knew I'd completely screw it all up if he clued me in to his plans.

We got married, and three weeks later I was pregnant. Not really planned, not that quick. The first night my son slept through the night, we got pregnant again. NOT. PLANNED. Seven months after she was born, I was pregnant again. OPPOSITE OF PLANNED. Still look at that child and can't figure out how she got here. Number four was planned, by me, not my husband. ;) When that baby was born, my oldest was three and a half years old. Only a crazy woman would plan to have four children in three years. Only a crazy God.

I had planned to adopt from China since back when I still carried ugly wedding dresses in my wallet. Then we decided to do foster care. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I'd have an African kid calling me 'Mom.' And I certainly never thought that I'd have an African daughter calling Walker 'Dad.'

God has taken my life, shaken it upside down and any way he wanted to in the last eight years, and it's good. It's really good. It couldn't be any better. And it's because he is sovereign, which means he is in charge of the fall (or pull) of every single hair on my head and my kids' heads and the sweet head of my invisible daughter who is in a country I was called to adopt from before I could even locate it on a map.

I know we are going to get a child from Ethiopia, and I know that God chose that baby for us before he laid the foundations of the world. And MOWA and Gladney and judges and investigations are gnats compared to my God. They canNOT thwart his plans. God's plans are un-thwartable.

My plan was to have her home by now. My plan was wrong.

My plan was to be married by 22. Oh, hallelujah, I was wrong on that one too. (And my 2002 wedding dress was gorgeous btw.)

My plan was to have my children spaced like a normal person. I look at my four precious crazy children - and I'm so glad I was wrong.

None of this is a shock to God, none of this is making him go, "Crap! I meant for them to have those babies by now, golly gee whiz, wish MOWA would hurry up!" Nope. His clock is still running right on time.

I can't play the "what if I'd gone with another agency" game, because that's not possible, because my daughter is with Gladney.

The same Lord who set the stars in the sky and calls them by name, who knitted us and our babies together in the womb, and who has numbered every day of our lives on earth and the day of our deaths and every day of our children's lives - that God has not left his throne because of some politics in Ethiopia. He is Lord over Ethiopia. He is Lord over my child's adoption. And I am not.

He already had on his holy calendar what day she would come home, and he has not crossed it out and moved it around. Nothing has changed in his plan.

And sometimes his plan is hard. But it's always good.

 “The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands. And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything. Rather, he himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else.  From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us.  ‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’ As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offspring.’
Acts 17:24-28


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