"Beauty will Rise"

We wait...and wait, and wait, and wait.  I am finding out that life must go on, even in waiting for our baby.  And it should.  I am aware that the process itself, no matter what it is, is as important or more so, than the destination.  I try to learn something each day about myself or about those I love.  But much like my family experienced in the months after Amber died, the world does not stop for us to get off and catch our breath and rest for awhile.  However, God provides that resting place even as life continues to spin around us.  There has also been another similarity I've noticed to grief in this time of waiting for our baby...the fact that others will say "I know exactly how you feel."  Adoptive families say this to each other, and I've even said it to friends, knowing that it's not true.  No one knows how we feel.  It's impossible.  I don't even know how Justin feels, though I try.  No family's story is the same, so therefore, as much as we wish we could help to bear the burden and feel the deep hurt, sadness, anger, jealousy, fear, and other emotions that go along with the valleys of adoption, we just can't.  We only know what we ourselves feel and right now, I'm at a low point and wouldn't wish it on anyone.  I suppose I'm just looking at this as a "delay of the joy" that will no doubt come our way one exciting day.  People say nice things, they remind you of scripture verses that are meant to help, but sometimes, I have to give myself permission to just be 100% human and sit with these emotions.
I spent last Saturday at a conference entitled "Empowered to Connect."  It was designed to provide adoptive and foster parents with practical solutions for some of the special challenges we face with raising children who come from hard places.  It was good to be there and I learned lots.  I met some new people and even got to talk to someone from Show Hope about joining one of their mission teams to China to visit the children at Maria's Big House of Hope, which is becoming a "secret dream" of mine.  I have also joined up with Bethany's fundraising events planning committee.  I told Justin that I just need to feel "connected" to what Bethany is doing while we are waiting for our baby to come home.  Ironically, the sermon I preached at our church not long ago was about times in our lives when we have to wait.  I talked about waiting prayerfully, actively, and patiently.  Practicing what I preach (literally) is proving to be a little difficult right now.  I'm feeling anxious, discontent, scattered, and over-committed.  My job is good, but in my mind, it's not what I really want to be doing, so it's hard to stay focused at work.  I am having a hard time maintaining relationships with friends and family, mainly because I feel pretty anti-social.  I don't want to hear one more person say "how is the adoption going?" because then I'll have to give my answer, "It's not." 

Truth is, we have received another e-mail from a surrounding state requesting our profile to be sent for consideration for a baby boy born on September 15, but I am trying to guard my emotions.  We said yes, and this baby is already dear to us.  We know his name, we know very little about the situation, but for some reason, we cannot stop thinking about him.  We made these decisions back in February of what we would consider in a referral (and what we wouldn't) but each time we get one of these e-mails for a baby in another state, we have to re-consider everything because now, it's not just hypothetical, it's a real baby with real circumstances.  If I become an adoption worker someday, I would want to be a counselor who walks with the families who are waiting and helps them understand that they are not alone.  Our social worker is great, but she is so busy.  I think it would be awesome to have a person dedicated to monthly or weekly appointments with every waiting family who desired to come in and sit down with someone at the agency who helps them to process what they're dealing with.  It's not pregnancy, it's not infertility, it's not miscarriage...it's something completely different. 

This blog has been more about my honest thoughts and feelings than a warm, fuzzy "adoption is so wonderful!"  But we have to stay real.  One of my high school English teachers (who is probably reading this blog) would call it "stream of consciousness."  That is how she prepared us to write papers...she would just say "start writing...anything that comes to mind."  And out of that mess of jumbled words, ideas, and thoughts, hopefully, a well-thought, organized piece would eventually emerge.  So we will just keep stepping out in faith that we are to keep saying "yes" to opportunities that God gives us, even if saying "yes" leads to more questions, more unknowns, and ultimately more heartache.  It is in experiencing pain, hurt, grief, and sadness that we are more prepared and will KNOW when we finally experience joy, beauty, laughter, and peace.  And our amazing gift will emerge.

Most of you know how special the music of Steven Curtis Chapman has always been to me.  I recently listened again to a song I originally heard months ago.  I am especially drawn to the chorus:

"Out of these ashes, beauty will rise. 
We will dance among the ruins and we will see it with our own eyes. 
Out of these ashes, beauty will rise. 
We'll know joy is coming in the morning. 
Beauty will rise."

Love,
Stephanie a.k.a. Somebody's mommy