I'm really happy for her.
And I'm really frustrated for us.
When we started this process we didn't take a number. We didn't walk up to the adoption counter and pull down a #2 from the number dispenser thingy.
We haven't moved.
I want to kick and scream and cry.
We started before this other family. Why aren't WE out yet?
You know what? There's nothing 'fair' when it comes to adoption. We aren't #2. We're just another file in a huge stack of dossiers.
This afternoon I found myself feeling really gross. I'm a mother who longs for her daughter to come home. And not getting news, not having movement, makes me feel horrible.
She's getting older.
She's experiencing firsts without us.
She's going to bed every night without her mama or papa tucking her in and kissing her forehead.
My God, who is bigger than this crazy process, is continually smiling on me. I can hear him saying, "Oh Karen, you have so much to learn."
Our wonderful neighbor stopped over this afternoon. This family is dealing with things much greater than any family should ever have to endure. And yet she went out of her way to bring us something. A sign that, at some point, the little girl will be coming home. God's way of saying, "I've got this covered right now Karen. I tuck her in and kiss her forehead every night."
Our neighbor brought over a bag of clothes for the little girl. At the top of a bag there was a beautiful pink dress. I started to cry, hoping she'll be home while it still fits.
|(Thank you Heather!)|