"Do they actually think they can make something of stones from a rubbish heap—and charred ones at that?"
Our home study was completed this week. I know our agency probably has a lot of work to put it together now, but our part is done. Before the social worker came, I thought she was coming to our home for just a preliminary visit. I thought the big, scary home study was down the road. I'm glad I thought that. I saved myself from a lot of stressful cleaning. As she was heading out the door we asked her when our in-depth home study would be and she replied, "This was it." Sweet. When actual adoption comes across our path there will be more home visits, but technically she says we're done.
We felt like celebrating! I posted as my Facebook status, "Our home has been officially studied. We will be licensed for two. Bring on the babies!" 63 friends liked my status and 22 friends commented. That's some serious celebration.
But then that felt weird.
As we anticipate the joy of adding another child to our home, somewhere a mother is about to experience a deep loss. It's possible that somewhere our baby is not being thought of as good news. Somewhere a mom is breaking. A relationship is being torn apart. Circumstances are about to cave in on someone and bury them in brokenness. And, somehow, God is going to reach into that situation, pull from it the most beautiful charred stone, and give it to us.
When our baby does come to us, I hope I know when to grieve with them and when to celebrate with them. I hope I can make them understand how badly they are wanted by us, while still giving worth and respect to their beginning. I hope they will know that God saw them while they were being knitted together in their mother's womb, even though that womb was not mine.
And I hope, if God brings redemption to the whole situation, that we will be able to release our precious gem back to their first family knowing that God is a better author than we are. It may not be the story we would've written. And it will hurt our hearts to only be a blip in Scene Two when we wanted to be the best supporting actors of Act One. But God knows better than we do. We will make it the best Scene Two any baby has ever seen, gosh darn it! And then we will slip back stage, and most likely miss the rest of the Play.
Don't feel bad for us. Every baby should get a great Scene Two! We're happy to do it. Someday, there will be a baby who needs us for all of Act One. What a reward that will be. But I hear the journey will be full of ups and downs. One foster/adoptive mother told me, "You gotta become a faster and a prayer to do this, girl!"
I always hated roller coasters as a child. This may be the scariest, and most exhilarating one yet.