Our Holy Chaos attempts to find God amid our family’s ups and downs. Last month was more down than up, but God was still there.
We have been pursuing the adoption of a boy from China since 2019. We were about a week from traveling to complete adoption when China shut down in February, 2020. We’ve been on a waiting roller coaster ever since. There has been good news and bad news, but we always expected that completing adoption of this little boy was a matter of time.
Until last month.
In early September, China announced that they were no longer processing international adoptions. Period. Our Department of State is asking for clarity and pushing for adoptions with a matched child—like ours and many others—to proceed to completion, but they are not optimistic.
We’ve always known this was possible. On one hand, we consider this boy our son. His smiling face hangs on our wall alongside pictures of our other biological and adopted children. He’s one of us in all ways except geography and citizenship.
On the other hand, geography and citizenship matter.
I can’t describe the feeling of distress this has caused. It feels arbitrary, unfair, and inhumane. Our family grieves someone we have never met and who is still alive. The sense of loneliness is strong. How can friends and family empathize when we don’t even know what we feel? Knowing that wars, disasters, and disease have taken children from their parents from the dawn of humanity is cold comfort.
And yet, God is present in this.
I won’t pretend to fully understand his presence or will right now. I see glimmers, though.
I see my oldest child turning 18 and sending out college applications. I see my youngest preparing for middle school and—even though he has Down’s syndrome—growing more independent every day.
None of my children were ever really mine.
My mom used to say that her boys were on loan as we grew up. Sooner or later, that reality hits every parent. I suppose it’s our turn.
I find great comfort in Mary the mother of Jesus. We may feel alone, but reflecting on her suffering makes it clear that we’re not.
God doesn’t ask us to understand difficult circumstances. He doesn’t ask us to fix them when they’re outside of our power. He wants us to trust him and to let him lead us.
Watching the movements of my heart has been fascinating. Things are happening there, breaking loose, and coming to the surface. Things that may never have come out of the shadows if not for this situation. I won’t say that God wanted this to happen, but I can see him taking advantage of it in my heart and the hearts of my family and friends.
Thank you for the prayers and support through this journey. They mean so much to my family! As we suffer loss through this life, may we grieve well, trust God completely, and follow him simply. That is all we can do and all we are asked.
We have been pursuing the adoption of a boy from China since 2019. We were about a week from traveling to complete adoption when China shut down in February, 2020. We’ve been on a waiting roller coaster ever since. There has been good news and bad news, but we always expected that completing adoption of this little boy was a matter of time.
Until last month.
In early September, China announced that they were no longer processing international adoptions. Period. Our Department of State is asking for clarity and pushing for adoptions with a matched child—like ours and many others—to proceed to completion, but they are not optimistic.
We’ve always known this was possible. On one hand, we consider this boy our son. His smiling face hangs on our wall alongside pictures of our other biological and adopted children. He’s one of us in all ways except geography and citizenship.
On the other hand, geography and citizenship matter.
I can’t describe the feeling of distress this has caused. It feels arbitrary, unfair, and inhumane. Our family grieves someone we have never met and who is still alive. The sense of loneliness is strong. How can friends and family empathize when we don’t even know what we feel? Knowing that wars, disasters, and disease have taken children from their parents from the dawn of humanity is cold comfort.
And yet, God is present in this.
I won’t pretend to fully understand his presence or will right now. I see glimmers, though.
I see my oldest child turning 18 and sending out college applications. I see my youngest preparing for middle school and—even though he has Down’s syndrome—growing more independent every day.
None of my children were ever really mine.
My mom used to say that her boys were on loan as we grew up. Sooner or later, that reality hits every parent. I suppose it’s our turn.
I find great comfort in Mary the mother of Jesus. We may feel alone, but reflecting on her suffering makes it clear that we’re not.
God doesn’t ask us to understand difficult circumstances. He doesn’t ask us to fix them when they’re outside of our power. He wants us to trust him and to let him lead us.
Watching the movements of my heart has been fascinating. Things are happening there, breaking loose, and coming to the surface. Things that may never have come out of the shadows if not for this situation. I won’t say that God wanted this to happen, but I can see him taking advantage of it in my heart and the hearts of my family and friends.
Thank you for the prayers and support through this journey. They mean so much to my family! As we suffer loss through this life, may we grieve well, trust God completely, and follow him simply. That is all we can do and all we are asked.
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