I used to believe that there would come a day when our family dynamic would feel “normal” – that we would mesh together in a way that was seamless – that the memory of the time Before would be blotted out by the Present, that thoughts of the Future wouldn’t always be accompanied by some degree of anxiety.
Normal? As it turns out, it’s just not for us.
I believe that when our lives turned upside down halfway across the world that they were destined to remain upside down in many capacities.
I believe that when we saw the faces of the children staring at us as we looked through windows into crowded orphanage rooms we can never be normal again.
I believe that walking through specialist appointment after specialist appointment and living with the constant shadow of unknowns means that “normal” is a thing of the past.
I believe that seeing the rawness of pain associated with the loss of birth country, birth language, and birth culture will cause us to never be normal again.
I believe I will never ever EVER be used to people staring at our daughter and her scarred and wounded skin, and that pounding of my heart as I see the hurried glances is a part of who I am now.
I believe that adoption is breathtakingly difficult, and that the trip is just the start of the journey. I believe that the longer your child is home the more difficult it becomes to explain the impact of past hurts, the more difficult it becomes to accept that while time is a great healer, the amount of time required is sometimes overwhelming.
I believe in accepting that the hard things we are called to do are HARD. I believe that they will mold us and change us and out of that giant mess will come a beauty only seen when we throw ourselves into the arms of a loving Father, desperately and freely confessing that on our own, we are not enough for this great journey He has us on.
I pray for a heart that would pound in a rhythm which sounds off-beat to the rest of the world.
I pray for eyes that would look for ways to love deeply.
I pray for a soul to find total satisfaction in Christ alone.
I pray for a voice to speak words of encouragement.
I pray for feet that would be quick to run to the aid of others.
I pray for hands that would hold loosely the things of this world.
I pray that every time I look into her dark brown eyes I would see the great work that the Father is doing in our family, that we are ALL learning what it looks like to love others beyond the natural boundary lines we would draw for ourselves.
I pray for daily recognition of the new mercies, steadfast love, great faithfulness, and hope given freely by the One who is walking with us on the good days, and carrying us on the hard days.
I pray to never desire the time Before, to never dread the work involved in the Present, to always carry hope for the Future.