A different kind of infertility?

I will never forget it. My friend Jamie faced the possibility of sending back to his biological mother the child she had cared for nearly since birth and wanted desperately to adopt. I sat in the floor of my living room and as he crawled to me, I sobbed. I had just found out that I was pregnant with my fourth child, after having lost the third, and enduring a small period of time where I didn't know if I would get this child. I was awash in emotions. It was too much, this entire journey of parenthood and all its beautiful, amazing and horrific ways.

It was through my friend Jamie that I first saw the joys and terrible agony of adoption. It was in the floor that day as I looked at her son through a wall of tears that I felt the twist in my heart. I confessed to God that even as I carried a child, I wanted to adopt one. I didn't even understand the desire or longing in my heart, but I felt it. Was God planting a seed of longing? Yes. It seemed He was.  

(Jamie, after a long and arduous road that was traveled with only a firm faith in Christ, now has forever her son. He joins another adopted son who is loved well by two amazing parents. I am thankful that I was there to see that adoption journey. It was truly a testament to how God cares for His own and carries His through even the most difficult days.)

I've put off writing this post for a long time. It's one of those I really don't even want to write this posts and can't see even now, as I press these keys, how it could have any positive effect. It's too hard to expose this part of my heart. Even now I pause to check email. Or scratch my nose. Or stare out the window. I'm thinking of how to pare it down until it's just a sketchy outline of what really wants to pour out.

I don't know why I do this to myself. Really. Except every time I do, God blesses the obedience.

Okay, so I was having lunch with a friend not too long ago. I was holding her foster son. Soon I found the words tumbling out. I told her I felt like I was experiencing my own brand of infertility. I surprised myself. Although I experienced a loss of an unborn baby and for 3 months didn't know if I'd get another baby, I would never ever even suggest that I know the heartache of a woman who desperately longs for a child. I honestly can't fathom that sadness. I walked that road in part with sweet friends, and I saw a minuscule portion of how hard that is.

So I want to be careful here. I'm not equating this with that.

I hear people say, though, "God, why did you give me the desire for a child and then seemingly not provide a way for me to receive a child? Take away the desire or give me a child."

Now that I can relate to. God stirred up in me a desire to have a child that I didn't give birth to.

So. You just wait. Right?

Yes. And I am fabulous in waiting. Fabulous.

I love the passion I see all around me in the awakening about adoption. Maybe it's just the church I go to. Maybe it's the friends I have. Maybe it's just part of my sanctification. Adoption is everywhere. And I am thankful. I am so so thankful. 

(And for a long time I tested my heart in front of God, making sure I didn't want to adopt just because it was trendy. Or just because "everyone" else was doing it. Or for any other reason that would not please God.) 

Every time I see a picture of a newly adopted child, my heart cries. Every time I see a friend's blog post about their journey in adoption, I feel the sweet sadness. And if you hand me a picture of the child you are in the process of adopting, chances are, I'll cry. Out of happiness and joy and thankfulness for your family and for that child and the future that child is rescued from. (Thank you, Lord, for adopting me into Your family to rescue me from my own destructive future.) Yes. And out of selfish longing too.

Because I'm selfish that way. Horribly and cruelly selfish. Something in me screams every time I see these things, "Lord, what about my child?" 

Because I'm selfish that way. 

It feels like another one of those open ended promises God gave me. "Here you go. Now trust me."

I wish He'd stop doing that. 

I think my kids already know. We'll pull up by a passenger van and Jude will say, "We're going to need that kind of van for all the kids we'll have..." 

What? I don't talk about this with them. How does he know? Why is it so much easier for him to believe.

I'll find pieces of paper where Laney has written things about the sister she's praying for. She'll get teary about it from time to time and will ask me straight out, "When will we get her?" I just whisper in her ear that we are trusting God. We take this to Him in prayer. I pray that He is caring for and teaching her in all this too.

So I wait. And try so hard to sort all of this out in a way that will in the end make me look more like His Son, please Him and teach me lessons that I won't ever forget. I see God demanding me to hand Him my trust issues. I feel Him pruning-always pruning. I cry at the pain and praise Him all at the same. 

Again. I'm thankful for those adopting and for those working so passionately to spread the word about adoption. It's such a beautiful picture of what God did for us and that in and of itself is a reason to involve ourselves in this amazing thing. 

(But I will stop short of saying that everyone should adopt. God said to care for the orphans, and I'm not sure that meant that you had to adopt one to do that. I will test my heart to see if I am caring for orphans in any and every way I can. Adoption is not the only way to do that. There are things we are all capable of doing outside of adoption and we are commanded to do that. James 1:27  Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.)

And I know it's not easy. I've seen that first hand in more than one family. I see the hard. Even with a sweet family still in the birth country of their new family members right now, there is difficulty. I haven't romanticized this. It's hard. I know.

I doubt I did this issue justice, but I'm just glad to have this out of my head. It's still in my heart, but that's ok. That's where God put it. Pray that I'll trust Him. Pray that I'll wait well. Pray that no matter if I have 3 or 7 or 400 children, that I'll be content. Peaceful right where I am.