Ambiguous Loss

The past couple of months have been a challenge. It's been more difficult than expected to wrap my brain around the idea that our dossier is likely permanently closed and Molly isn't coming home to us. This is not how I hoped and prayed our story would end.

My heartache has often manifested itself in anger and a lack of grace, usually directed at my dear husband. Honestly, I haven't known what to do with my raging emotions (and anger is my sinful default), and I've never really learned how to grieve well. (No time like the present, I guess.) I'm grateful that I'm seeing the light at the end of this tunnel as I've had time to deal with my sin, process the disappointment with God, and begin to grieve the loss.

There have been a few things that I've wrestled with over the past couple of months, and a friend has encouraged me to write down my thoughts, so here goes:

1) I didn't realize how hard not having closure would be. Over the many months of waiting, I wavered between feeling hopeful and hopeless, and on some days, I still feel that way. It's frustrating not to have a clear answer from Rwanda and to make the call on our own to end the process, based on limited information.

My friend Staci said it perfectly. Without closure, this is an ambiguous loss. I'm definitely experiencing it as a loss, but some days I wonder if we'll get a call saying they've sent us a referral. I keep thinking it would be easier if we had official closure, like a "Yes, your dossier has been permanently closed" confirmation letter. At least we'd have some assurance we'd made the right call.

Regardless of my desires, this is exactly where God has me. It's no surprise to Him how our adoption turned out, and He knows exactly how I feel. Through this journey, I have learned to trust Him more and have experienced His goodness, peace, comfort, and mercy in abundance. I know the Lord is for me. I've learned more about dependence and how to view everything, even what seems like a tragedy, through the lens of His Word and His character, which is always a good thing.

2) It's been hard to know what to say to people. For the most part, I've just waited until I'm asked about the adoption. I don't mind answering questions, but it's not exactly news I want to randomly blurt out. "Oh, by the way, our adoption is over." Plus, I don't have any satisfying answers to the most frequent questions.

• No, it doesn't seem fair. I agree.
• Yes, it's a shame there are so many orphans in the world, and we're eager and willing to bring one into our family. 
• No, I don't understand why the doors have closed to us after we were approved to adopt last summer. 
• Yes, we've tried everything we believe God has allowed us to try. We committed ourselves to their process, and this is the way it turned out.
• No, I'm not upset about the money we've spent, but I am devastated that our daughter will not be coming home.
• No, we don't sense God calling us to jump into another adoption process as this point.

I'm learning that it's okay to not have all the answers. I don't understand why this was the path God chose for us. Maybe one day I will. Maybe I never will. I don't know. Regardless, I'm confident that none of this was out of my Lord's control. Through all the ups and downs, my faith in God's sovereignty has grown, not shrunk, for which I'm eternally grateful.

3) I think the hardest thing for me has been that a lot of people, even those close to me, have no idea of the incredible loss I feel.

But I get it. Really, I do.

Molly never seemed real to them. We hadn't been matched with a specific child, and there was no photograph I could show or personality to describe. I guess some people assumed she was as vague and distant to me as she was to them.

But she wasn't.

In my heart, she has been very real to me, as real as Claire and Meredith ever were in utero. I didn't know Molly's face, but she was already my child. For two years, she has been an integral part of our prayers, our planning, and our hopes and dreams for the future. We've been waiting for her for so long, ready to love her and get to know her.

I've been unprepared for unwitting yet stinging comments from friends and acquaintances, usually in regard to the idea that I haven't really 'lost' anything or that God must have saved us from something terrible.

For the record, I don't see it that way - at all.

The loss has left a gaping hole in my heart, whether I act that way or not. I don't wear my emotions on my sleeve. I realize these comments are much like the unhelpful comments after a miscarriage: "There was probably something wrong with the baby, so it's probably a good thing this happened." Uh, not so much. Please just stop talking.

In these situations, I'm learning to recognize and confess my own sin and to extend grace and forgiveness, as Christ does for me. I know I've said plenty of stupid things in my life, and probably would here if the shoe was on the other foot. I truly didn't understand the deep emotion wrapped up in adoption until this very personal and painful experience. My eyes have been opened through suffering.

Overall, my heart continues to ache for my Rwandan baby. I still struggle with anger about the process, but I'm choosing to receive this 'no' as from the Lord, not from any person or country. More than anything, I want what God wants for me, for her, for us. I just never thought this is what it would be.

The Plan All Along?

I haven't written anything in a long time because I haven't known what to say. This adoption journey has been difficult, rich, confusing, heartbreaking, and confirming, all at the same time. This is certainly not where we thought we'd be in March 2012.

I spent much of the late fall and the holidays trying not to think about the looming match deadline in early January. As the deadline drew closer, I felt emotionally raw, trying to come to terms with the idea that we may not receive a child, yet still trusting that God's plan for us is a good one.

I got tired (and resentful) of feeling like our lives were on hold, waiting on a decision wholly out of our control, so we made plans to spend Christmas with our entire family in Rhode Island. It was exactly where we needed to be.

Cousins! (ages 8, 6, 2, 3, 4, 2)

Frankly, it was a huge relief when our match deadline came and went. At least that wasn't still hanging over our heads! But I wondered if our Rwandan adoption journey was over and nobody had bothered to tell us.

In late January, we heard - unofficially, of course - that approved dossiers wouldn't be closed. Finally, good news! We knew the wait for a child would likely still be a long one, but we felt hopeful and encouraged once again.

And now here we are in March, struggling to maintain hope in the face of more bad news. It's hard to know what to do or what to think or how to absorb it all. Ugh.

This adoption has been the.hardest.thing.I've.ever.done. It's the craziest roller coaster I've ever ridden. The uncertainty of it all wears me out. Some days I'm totally apathetic. I have to check out emotionally in order to maintain some sanity. Other days I'm angry. I just want an answer. Give me a yes or a no! I can't take the silence anymore!

But most days I can see of glimpse of what God is doing in my heart through this painful process and am grateful beyond measure. Regardless of the outcome, I know I'm a changed person, for the better. Even if this ends without a child, I can honestly say that I'll have no regrets that we answered God's call.

I'm blogging through the New Testament this year, and diving into the Scriptures has helped me daily process what I'm thinking and feeling through the lens of God's Word. It gives me the right perspective and keeps me sane.

Recently, God used Luke 6:12-16 - Jesus selecting the Twelve - to make me think about my view of how God works. Here's an excerpt from that post:

Here is Jesus - fully God and fully man - praying all night to God the Father - all-knowing and all-powerful - about the twelve men upon whom the future of the church would rest. Clearly, this was one of the most important decisions Jesus made, and His actions demonstrate that He understood the weight of it. And still, in His infinite wisdom, He chose Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.

On the surface, it seems like a bad decision, a mistake. But from this side of the cross, we know that Judas played a critical role in the drama that ultimately led to the redemption of the world. Jesus, and God the Father, knew that all along.

This story is such a contrast to how I often think about circumstances in my life. When I'm convinced that God has led me in a particular direction, I'm surprised when things don't work out according to (my) plan. I mean, I PRAYED ABOUT IT! Hello?!?  I second-guess myself and question whether I actually heard from God. "Maybe I just thought it was God." "Maybe I heard Him incorrectly."

Or - novel concept - maybe this was what God had intended all along. Hmmm.

This adoption process has rocked my nice little view of how God works. (You know the one - I obey and He delivers.) I know God called us to adopt from Rwanda. As much as I know anything, I am confident that we didn't make this up. But nothing seems to be working out. It's been very confusing, emotional, and stressful as we hit roadblock after roadblock. Why would this be happening if God has called us to this? Is it spiritual battle, and we just need to persevere?

Only recently have I begun to contemplate that perhaps this was God's plan all along. No, we're not throwing in the towel, but I'm beginning to wrestle with the thought that we truly may end this journey without another child. And that it may be God's plan for us, even though I assumed differently. Maybe there were things we needed to learn and experience, and this was the vehicle that God chose for us. I really don't know. I can't see the whole picture, the Grand Plan, as the Lord does.

After seeing this example of Jesus again, I'm more convinced than ever that my part is to know God's voice and obey what I hear. I am to live with a trusting heart of expectancy that God will work rather than with expectations of how He must work. It's a subtle but important difference. No demands. Just faith in my loving Father who knows the plans He has for me. (Jeremiah 29:11)

We are still praying like crazy that Molly will come home to us, but truthfully, I'm struggling to wait in hope. Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!

When You See Them Coming

Look up! Look around! Watch as they gather, watch as they approach you: Your sons coming from great distances, your daughters carried by their nannies. When you see them coming you'll smile - big smiles!  Isaiah 60:3 (Msg)

I'm blogging through the Bible in a year, and as I was reading in Isaiah this morning, God surprised me with this verse in The Message version.

As I read it, I imagined myself in Kigali, inside the blue gates of Home of Hope, waiting for one of the sisters to bring Molly to me. Watch as they approach you...your daughter carried by her nanny. When you see them coming you'll smile - big smiles! Oh, Please Lord! Let that be true for us.

Molly is on my mind constantly. We are getting lots of questions from friends, family, and acquaintances about the status of the adoption, and I've been trying to give them a positive yet realistic picture of the road ahead of us. What went from feeling like a sure thing now has a measure of risk that I hadn't anticipated prior to June.

Yet as much as I try to guard my heart, I still have hope that God will bring Molly to us. In my flesh, I want to shut off all of my emotions around the adoption so I won't be devastated if it doesn't happen, but God isn't allowing me that luxury. I cry at the drop of a hat these days. I'm writing this in Starbucks and trying to hide the tears streaming down my face.

Even so, I'm grateful for the Lord's encouragement this morning. I'm not demanding that the Lord come through for us on this adoption, but I am consistently reminding Him that He gave us this desire.  :-) Regardless of the outcome or how much my heart hurts, I know that my God is for me, that He loves me {and Molly} more than I could ever imagine. And He has carried us along for a long, long time. Praise God.

Out of his own love and pity he redeemed them. He rescued them and carried them along for a long, long time.  Isaiah 63:9 (Msg)

But you're our living Father, our Redeemer, famous from eternity!  Isaiah 63:16 (Msg)

One More Step

I cracked up the first time I heard Harry have this conversation with Claire. She was about 18 months old.

He was busy in the kitchen, and she demanded something from him. He turned to her and said, "What am I?" She said, "Busy." He said, "So what are you?" She replied, "Patient." Clearly, they'd had this give-and-take a number of times before I heard it.

It's become a frequent dialogue in our home with both of the girls when they're demanding or oblivious to the fact that others may be occupied.

Last week, my little sister and I were talking with a friend who asked how the adoption was going. I got a little weepy as I explained the latest news. I confessed that it's been hard for me not to check out emotionally in order to protect myself. It hurts too much to live constantly in the pain and uncertainty of it all. I did the "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know God's in control and everything, but this is difficult, and I'm really tired of it."

And then I heard my sister (a hilarious mimic) say, "What is God?" "Busy." "So what are you?" "Patient."

It was perfect for the moment because it very quickly put my whining and demanding in perspective. I appreciated her not-so-subtle reminder that God is sovereign and that He is in control of every detail of this adoption.

That was Wednesday night, and the next morning, as I was dropping my girls off at mothers' day out, my cell phone rang. When I saw that it was Tina, I quickly answered. I was thrilled and relieved to hear that our attorney had our signed approval letter. We have been approved to adopt from Rwanda!

It's great news because it's a very important step closer to Molly. We needed the Rwandan government's blessing. But it's a little bittersweet for me with the new six-month match deadline. It's still a possibility that this process could end without Molly in our family - a heartbreaking thought.

Oswald Chambers is helping me again as I deal with the joy, reality, and uncertainty of this news.

"...how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him? (Matthew 7:11)

Jesus is laying down the rules of conduct in this passage for those people who have His Spirit. He urges us to keep our minds filled with the concept of God's control over everything, which means that a disciple must maintain an attitude of perfect trust and an eagerness to ask and to seek...It works on the following principle: God is my Father, He loves me, and I will never think of anything that He will forget, so why should I worry?

Jesus said there are times when God cannot lift the darkness from you, but you should trust Him. At times God will appear like an unkind friend, but He is not; He will appear like an unnatural father, but He is not; He will appear like an unjust judge, but He is not. Keep the thought that the mind of God is behind all things strong and growing. Not even the smallest detail of life happens unless God's will is behind it. Therefore, you can rest in perfect confidence in Him. Prayer is not only asking, but is an attitude of the mind which produces the atmosphere in which asking is perfectly natural. "Ask, and it will be given to you..." (7:7)" 

The referral is the huge hurdle in front of us now, and we continue to pray like crazy that God will bring the child He has for us. Please pray for our little girl, somewhere in Rwanda right now. Please pray for her caregivers and that God's love would surround and protect her. We ache for her to be with us soon and are asking our Father to clear the way for that to happen.

I never could have imagined the twists and turns this adoption would take, and it's not even done yet. At this moment, I'm not sure I would have had the courage to move forward had I known then what I know now. But I am confident that God knew, that He is good - and that's the only sure thing in this whole confusing process.

Rumor Mill

All I can say is "Ugh." The adoption rumor mill is grinding out more uncertainty, more speculation.

Actually, in a way, I'm happy to be on this roller coaster. Nine months ago I didn't think they were going to let us on the ride. But the latest twists and turns and ups and downs are starting to make me nauseous.

How do I process all of this that is 100% out of my control? How do I live in the present and not speculate about what could or might happen with our adoption?

Since I first caught wind of the rumor yesterday, my brain has been working overtime trying to make sense of the path we're on. I keep going back to the basic questions:

Did God call us to adopt?  Yes.

Are we confident that God called us to adopt from Rwanda?  Yes.

Have we heard Him correctly?  I believe so.

Have we done all that is in our power in this process?  Yes.

Although there's a lot that I don't understand, all I can do is rest in the fact that my very good God is sovereign. He is in control of all things. Nothing escapes His notice. He knows more about, and cares more about, our daughter in Rwanda than we do. He knows what He's doing in her life and in our lives as well.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for wholeness and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.  Jeremiah 29:11

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.  Proverbs 3:5

And let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.  Galatians 6:9

Although my emotions aren't necessarily cooperating, I'm trying to rest in the truth of these verses. I keep reminding myself of them whenever fear or demandingness or anger starts to creep in.

The timing of the rumors is interesting for me. I just finished reading the book of Job yesterday and have been trying to absorb all that God is saying to me through Job's suffering. As I think about this new situation, Job 42:1-2 keeps coming to mind:

Then Job answered the Lord and said: "I know that you can do all things and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted."

"Learn this as you read Job: When you stand before Me in mystery, you will eventually rest within Me in trust. When you can't figure Me out, you will give up the illusion of predictability and control and discover the joy and freedom of hope." Larry Crabb, 66 Love Letters

In this whole adoption process, I have had to give up any illusion of predictability and control. I've had to live in the mystery of how God works. At this point, I can only trust that God's plans and purposes are being fulfilled. I've done what God's asked me to do with this adoption. I have obeyed. We will stay the course until God tells us otherwise.

Things may not turn out the way we hope, but I'm praying and asking like never before.

Unexpected Questions

Both Harry and I have been brought to tears recently by innocent questions from Claire.

Last month as we were helping her understand our family relationships - Poppy is my Daddy, YiaYia is my Mommy, Grandma T is Daddy's Mommy - Claire asked, "Who is Daddy's Daddy?" Harry and I just looked at each other, and I said something like, "His name is Grandpa, but he's not here. He died eight years ago."

Months ago, we had started the discussion about death when our neighbor's dog, Charlie, died unexpectedly. It's been a lot of "Where'd Charlie go?" and "When is he coming back?" Yes, it's pretty obvious that she doesn't really get it.

This week, as Harry was playing with the girls before bed, Claire turned to him and said, "Did your Daddy die?" Harry's not usually emotional about his Dad's death, but he said it caught him so off-guard that he started to tear up. He told her, "Yes, he died." Then Claire said, "Where is he now?" to which Harry said, "My Daddy's in heaven."

Claire's surprising response was, "I don't want to go to heaven." After some discussion with her, Harry figured out what she meant was that she didn't want to die. Harry told her that we all die at some point and assured her that she does want to go to heaven to be with Jesus. :-)

Last night, the girls were jumping on my bed before bedtime. Harry had turned on an Aaron Ivey CD, but I hadn't even noticed. Between jumps, Claire randomly said, "Mommy, is this Molly's song?" I was like, "Huh??"as my head started spinning. The music finally registered in my brain, and I remembered that, months ago, Claire had seen me crying as we listened to the song Amos Story on that CD. The tears welled up in my eyes immediately. Every time I hear that song, it reminds me of our sweet little girl in Rwanda.

Claire turns three next month, and she's beginning to put together ideas and memories that surprise us. I'm floored at what she remembers, and she totally caught me flat-footed last night. I think Molly's been on her mind too. Lately, she's been telling me that she's going to feed Molly and wants to hold her.

But truth be told, I've been emotional all week seeing the photos of Cooper Allen finally being united with his family, along with the stories of other families who have traveled recently. I love what God is doing in the lives of these adoptive families and their precious children. And I'm trusting God that it will be our turn soon enough, in His perfect timing.

Gracious Uncertainty

Next Saturday we hit our 8-month anniversary of being DTR, and the wait has been wearing on me lately. Even so, I'm encouraged about all of the approvals and referrals that are coming out of Rwanda, and it's been heartwarming to be with Aliyah Choy and Drew Schulz. Their sweet faces remind me of how much is at stake in this journey.

But our high number and the rumors of a wait list for younger children make everything seem more uncertain and much longer than I'd hoped. Being a planner, it's hard to have our lives in limbo like this. (I know, that's the reality of international adoption, and I willingly volunteered for this...)

Throughout the past year, I have clung to the knowledge that God is in every one of the details and that He has a grander purpose in this for us, but my emotions haven't always cooperated. On most days though, I'm able to remember that it's less about the outcome and more about what He's doing in my heart.

Harry read me something last night from My Utmost for His Highest that encouraged me at this stage of the process and reminded me of what's important:

"Our natural inclination is to be so precise - trying always to forecast accurately what will happen next - that we look upon uncertainty as a bad thing. We think that we must reach some predetermined goal, but that is not the nature of the spiritual life. The nature of the spiritual life is that we are certain in our uncertainty...

Certainty is the mark of the commonsense life - gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, not knowing what tomorrow may bring. This is generally expressed with a sigh of sadness, but it should be an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. As soon as we abandon ourselves to God and do the task He has placed closest to us, He begins to fill our lives with surprises....Jesus said "...unless you...become as little children" (Matthew 18:3). The spiritual life is the life of a child. We are not uncertain of God, just uncertain of what He is going to do next."

I'm so grateful for spiritual giants like Oswald Chambers who remind me of the Truth in this confusing process. It helps me to focus on the tasks at hand and to trust God's plan for us.