God Said Wait

This past week I have prayed and prayed and PRAYED about something very particular. This is the same something I had prayed very particularly about before, so this was a second chance to pray this particular prayer. It had something everything to do with getting our Ministry approval and paperwork in time to send with a family who is traveling to Lesotho next Tuesday.

God said no wait.

I am heartbroken. Maybe some of you are able to handle God's no wait with maturity and grace, but I am the wailing toddler who saw the cookies only to be told she may not have one until after dinner. I am hungry NOW and it's not FAIR and why don't you LOVE ME?

It's not enough that I am immature. Oh, no. I also turn my disappointment with God's no wait into a judgment of my works. Maybe my prayers weren't good enough. Maybe it's because I screwed up the whole fasting thing. Maybe it's because I got behind on my daily Bible reading.

And then come the deeper, darker fears. Maybe God has another plan for Pacman's life. We don't know his history; perhaps he has family...somewhere...and waiting for that family is God's plan for him. As painful as that is to consider, I can turn that over to God with a different kind of urgency. I want him to be loved, to belong. It's the next fear around which Satan wraps icy tentacles of doubt. Maybe ... maybe God doesn't want us to adopt. Maybe ... maybe God doesn't think I'm ready to be a mom to this little boy. Maybe ... maybe He doesn't think I'm good enough.

Deep breath in, hold it, let it out.

Why is it so easy to lose perspective, to jump from disappointment to doubt to despair in half a nanosecond? Gah! Sometimes I just want to smack myself!

I have a "magic" trick at school in which a "negative" emoticon (sad, mad, scared, worried, or, personally speaking, neurotic and immature) changes, via prayer or Scripture or other healthy coping skill, into a happy emoticon. The kids love it. I love it. It changes perspective. It shows us that we aren't subject to our negativity - we can take those thoughts captive. It reminds me that I don't have to hang on to my disappointment and doubt and despair. I can, through prayer and Scripture and wise counsel, trust that when God says no wait, He has a plan. He can take my disappointment and love me through it. He will turn my mourning into dancing. He never said it would be easy; He said he would be with us.

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope. Psalm 130:5

Advice to My Future Self from the Other Side of the Play-Therapy Table

I realized today that I've been a counselor on the fringes of the adoption world since 1995 - 17 years. I've worked alongside author and adoption speaker Sherrie Eldridge; foster and adoptive mom and director of Family Solutions, Nancy Hughes; and with countless birthparents and adopted children and adoptive parents.

God must've thought I needed a LOT of preparation before we adopted our son. Seventeen years of on-the-job training with these wise and experienced adoption professionals have given me a foundational knowledge of adoption issues. But knowing what to do - as a counselor - and doing it - as a parent - sometimes feels worlds apart. (Which is why I once led a parent-your-preschooler workshop at the church on Saturday, and then on Sunday found myself chasing my own tantrum-throwing preschooler down the halls of that same church.)

So, while I am still waiting on our adoption paperwork and sitting on the counselor's side of the play therapy table, I am going to give my future self - the wild-eyed self sitting on the stressed out parent's side of the play therapy table - some advice.

* It's okay, nay, it is important, to seek support. Which is why, before we travel, I am making a family appointment with an adoption counselor in my city. She has about a three month waiting list, so I figure that'll put us around two months home. And even if I don't think I need help because, after all, I've memorized The Connected Child and Parenting the Hurt Child, it is DIFFERENT when you're the parent. And I'm gonna need someone to remind me of that. And to put our very changed world into perspective.

* Take a break. I'm not always very good at this. When I get fixated on something, I'm all in, every minute. So while Pacman may need much of my attention and time, he will not need all of my attention and time. Trent and I will go on a date. Sam and I will go to a show (Billy Elliott is coming in June, dear God, so it'd be amazing if we were home by then and could get tickets thanks!). I will talk my girlfriends into taking me to the Melting Pot or a least to Java (one is being built right by my house!).

* Don't overanalyze. My tendency is going to be, I know, to assess everything - his development, his attachment, his trauma, our stress level, his stress level, our coping skills, his coping skills. And while a tiny bit of this may be helpful, mostly I will just need to love him and meet him where he is. I need to be his mom, not his counselor.

* Laugh. Fortunately I have Trent, whose quiet wit puts everything into perspective. I'm compiling funny comics and blogs and videos to have on hand. Because parent is tough, tough work. And life is a lot less stressful when you can laugh - at yourself, with others.

* Don't try to be a perfect parent. Work to be a loving parent. Make mistakes. Apologize. Hug and kiss. Try again.

* Pray. Pacman is God's child. We rely on God to protect and heal him now, in the orphanage, and we will rely on God to protect and heal him when he's with us, in our home. Adoption is filled with trauma. It is redemption in action, and God is the great redeemer. What I'm learning about prayer now, while we wait, is but a taste of what I will learn about prayer once he's home. Sometimes the best thing to do - the only thing to do - is to pray.

Slow Sailing

Still no news. NO NEWS, I tell you. I *thought* I had news. I *believed* I had news. But turns out, not so much news. So we're still stuck. With no news.

Last week I got really excited about the possibility of news. I started planning. I bought legos and matchbox cars. I prayed and fasted. (And yes, once again, I broke out in hives. Apparently there is something seriously wrong with my practice of the spiritual discipline of fasting.) I told God exactly how it could all work out. The dates lined up perfectly with others who were traveling and with family leave from work and etcetera. It was going to be awesome and wondeful and I was so excited.

Pop. That's the sound of my bubble bursting as days and then a week went by with - you guessed it - no news.

Wait - news flash - I took too long to post and, guess what! I got an email! From the agency! Stating that - oh, bummer - there is no news. Our adoption file is still somewhere in the depths of the Ministry of Social Welfare waiting on various and assorted signatures. Sigh. But now I know where we stand. At least this tiny bit of news of no news takes away the nagging fear that our file had been lost or destroyed or (insert horrific yet imaginative scenario).

Still, despite the hives and despite my heartbreaking longing to love on this little boy, I have a sense of peace. I have expended every shred of action that I can muster. I've prayed and I've sent emails to my agency and I've conscripted every person I know into praying and I've vented and I've scoured the internet for scraps of information and I've called my agency and, as noted above, I've fasted. I've done all that God has given me to do.

So now I wait. This journey is by God's design, and I'm trusting him to steer the ship. We may be on a sailboat (with no wind) rather than a speedboat, but I'm going to be OK with that. I'm going to try to enjoy the journey. I'm going to trust Him and let Him work it all out. His ways are better than my ways, and I'm anticipating something truly amazing!

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.  Isaiah 40:31