[a longing deferred]

When I was in high school,
I wrote a paper on Romanian adoption.

Something stirred in my heart.
A longing was birthed.

Of course, you might even say that an undefinable seed was planted long before that.
My dad and his younger brother grew up in a series of orphanages and foster homes.
When my dad was 12, they found a home in their forever family.
Though I grew up with a different last name,
a different look---
even a different bloodline than my cousins---
I knew I was loved and accepted as a member of our large, crazy, loving family.
Even as a child, I knew my dad---and therefore, each of us----
had been scooped up...given a second chance...redeemed.

When our three boys arrived easily and systematically,
adoption remained on the radar, but it was a far-off, maybe-someday dream.
But then we unexpectedly began our 10-year struggle with secondary infertility.
Through heart-wrenching months and years of waiting,
my heart for adoption was again ripped open and laid raw.
Was our infertility God's way of guiding us down the road to adoption?

We began researching---loosely---our various options.
We talked.
We prayed.
We attended an adoption workshop,
only to leave somewhat discouraged.
We didn't meet the required salary needed to adopt through that particular agency.
Rather than pursue it further,
we read it as a "no" from God.
Some would argue that point.
Some would say we operated out of fear
or gave up too easily.
But the truth is, we never got what we believed was a definite go-ahead from God.

Meanwhile, friends began adopting in record number.
My husband even asked me to be a part of an adoption initiative our church was getting off the ground.
Though it wasn't his intent to hurt me,
his words pierced me to the soul.
Knowing my own lifelong desire to adopt,
he was now suggesting that perhaps God was calling us to be in a support role:
standing by, encouraging, praying for, and supporting friends who were in the adoption process.

I grieved.
And I hurt.
Knowing God's heart for orphans,
why would He place in me that same heart
if it was only to be some sort of elusive, 
just out-of-our-grasp dream?

I struggled on the road God had placed us.
Though I admitted it to few,
I was bitter.
Questions nagged at me, haunted me:
"Why God?
Why would You not only close my womb,
but then seemingly close the road to adoption, as well?
And why are You answering that prayer and desire for everyone else but us?"

Honestly, I doubted God's love;
doubted that He really was doing what was best this time.
Surely, somehow He'd missed the mark.
His dealings with me seemed cruel and unfair.

The battle within took place over the course of several years.
And even when my husband approached me in the not-so-distant past,
saying that he saw my heart's longings and desires---
that he wanted to make all my dreams come true---
the proverbial adoption window seemed closed.
There wasn't peace, I told him.
Our opportunity has passed.

So what was God doing?
Really?
Like I said, there was a swift undercurrent within our church body.
Countless families began the adoption process---
many of them close friends.
And time after time,
God somehow was positioning Jon and me to walk closely beside them.
We hadn't necessarily sought it out.
But somehow, we were being sought out.
We had the pleasure of filling out references and being their referrals.
We got the up-close and personal prayer needs as they endured heart-wrenching months of waiting.
We were called into sweet gatherings of prayer warriors or "posses."
We were among the first to get the joyful texts and emails with the latest adoption news.
We got to be in on the ground level of what God was doing around His globe;
watching Him bring orphans from afar,
knitting hearts together,
creating forever families.
On two different Sundays in three weeks' time,
I raced to church knowing that two different friends 
were waiting to show me their referral photos.
I beamed.
And on the later of those two Sundays, another friend and her husband sat in church with their new son.
Still jet-lagged from their homecoming less than 48-hours earlier, they snuggled their Russian-born son that had grown in their hearts and was finally in their arms.

And at once, everything clicked.
Last week as I met with God,
He gave me the peace that was elusive;
the contentment that was lacking;
the joy that was missing.
Though the circumstances of life haven't changed,
He clearly opened my eyes and my heart.
And the words of my husband that I'd so resented several years ago now rang in my ears.
God may never lead us to adopt personally.
Or maybe He'll surprise us!
But in the meantime, He has seemingly positioned us and given us the glad pleasure of walking alongside those on this journey.
Because of our own heart for adoption,
He's prepared us to identify---at least a little---with their hearts,
empathize with their longings,
and pray them all the way through.
My heart is at rest.
It's grateful.
And my once-clenched hands that so stubbornly clung to my dreams and my ways have for the first time opened up to perhaps a further reaching joy and a grander wonder.
I marvel that He's been preparing me for it all my life.
I rejoice in the remarkable young men He's given us.
And I thank Him that He's called us to gladly participate in what He's doing around His beautiful world.