There is something about writing down my tangled thoughts that helps unravel the knots. A year ago, we wrestled with whether our family should adopt again. Ultimately, due to health reasons, we decided it was not the right time. One year later, we find ourselves wondering again.
Adding to our family now hasn't been on our plan. But then, when does God ever whisper something when you're planning on it? This winter, we stumbled upon the face of a little one in China. An older child who has waited a loooooong time for a family. We considered it, but before we really had time to make a decision, her file disappeared. We thought she had been adopted. Turns out, she hasn't. Her file that went AWOL has reappeared and she is once again waiting.
I've been wrapping my brain around what goes on in the mind of a child who lives in an orphanage. Do they wonder where the children go who are adopted? Do they wonder if someone is coming for them? Do they dare to dream at all? My kids spend a lot of time thinking about what they might be when they grow up. Do kids in orphanages ever wonder? Do they have hope? At what point do they realize much of their future is determined by a government instead of guided by a family? And how does that hurt their heart?
I look at my life and my family. It's full. We've got noise and confusion in abundance here. We've got swim meets and youth group events and school concerts and hospital stays and constantly empty stomachs to fill. Could we add another child? Should we add another child?
Which brings me to the next knot in my tangled thoughts....how perfect does my family have to be to adopt again? And why do I feel like the opinion of others matters so much to me? The first time we adopted, everyone was supportive. Family, friends, strangers. We encountered not one strange look or endured one uncomfortable comment. Pretty unusual for an adopting family.
But this time? People would think we were insane. And worse, foolish. Asking for trouble. In over our heads.
And I get that because I wonder the very same things.
I worry that people would think we haven't done a good enough job with the kids we already call our own.
I worry that adding one more would throw off the dynamics we've got going within our crazy crew.
I worry that I will never leave our home for anything other than milk or bread. Or a school conference.
I worry that I will lose myself. Or never find out what I can do. Besides shop for milk or bread, that is.
And yet I think of the book of Isaiah where we are challenged to lose ourselves on behalf of the oppressed and promised that in doing so we will find true strength.
And I think of the face of that little one waiting. and waiting. and waiting.
Can I advocate for orphans? Yes. Can I make a difference volunteering somehow? Yes. Can I fundraise and give my own wealth away? Yes.
But can I do what is harder and lay down my very life for another? And is this the right time? And is the right child?
No matter how many children we welcome into our fold, there will still be orphans waiting. Alone. Is adopting this particular child what we're called to do? Or are we called to care in a different way by somehow tackling the problems that lead to destitute children in the first place? Or both?
And when will I know? And how?
