You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. -Psalm 56:8
If you drove by my house right now, you might see a peculiar sight: Me stretched out on a beach towel instead of the perfectly good bench right next to me, surrounded by books, a crystal goblet filled with sparkling water and blackberries just because it makes the bubbles prettier, and this laptop on my lap. Why the front porch? Because it’s our only outdoor area with a roof, and a lovely summer thunderstorm has just rolled in bringing with it the soothing rumble of thunder, the tender patting of rain, and the cool earthy fragrance of wet grass. Because I want to absorb the sight of the vivid red petunias waving at passerby near our front door. I want to capture in my memory every song of the season’s crickets and cicadas, the sweet tune of the bathing birds, the thrumming tenor of the happy tree frogs. Because I want to be still and observe the spider in the rose bush as she weaves her web. I want to notice the symphony of beauty my Creator is orchestrating for my delight right now in this exact moment. Because I need to remember Who is sovereign over all and rest in Him.
It’s been over nine months since we received our No Objection Certificate from CARA. This means that India has no objection and approves of us adopting our son, Micah. This is a big milestone in the adoption process and one we waited five months for. After NOC, adoption petitions are supposed to be filed in court within ten days. In our case, our advocate in India has attempted to file our adoption petition upwards of ten times and it has been rejected by the judge each time. The situation has become so dire that even CARA has stepped in and written to the judge. It is very rare for this to happen. However, we learned today that the judge still will not accept our petition even with CARA advocating on our behalf. The next step, and our last option, is to attempt to plead our case with the high court and hope they will intervene.
I’ll be honest, this process has been the hardest trial Bret and I have ever faced in our lifetime. We’ve become jaded by each step in the process to the point that we have no expectation of future attempts being successful. We smile through our Friday video calls with our sweet son, nod when he says to “come fast,” and weep after each goodbye. We stay up late discussing possible things we could do to move our process along, knowing none of it is in our hands. We hold our young daughter when she sobs for her brother, reassure her that he will come home “soon.” We stalk other people’s adoption posts, rejoicing with them in good news, and seeking forgiveness for our jealousy. After three years of this wandering in the wilderness, pursuing our son, we are threadbare and we are weary.
For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. -Psalm 62:5
And yet, in the past three years, we have never felt so profoundly the encircled arms of our loving Father. We are filled with a deeply rooted peace that He is sovereign over all and that He is using this trial for our good and His glory. We know that He counts each of our tossings and collects our tears in His bottle. We know that we can pour out our heart to Him and not only can He take it, but He welcomes it. And so we place our trust in Him alone, our Rock and our refuge. We praise Him because He is good and He loves us and our Micah more than we can even fathom. He strengthens our faith and we know that we will bring our Micah home one day, no matter how long it takes or what it may cost us. We will never give up and we will never stop pursuing our son because we love him and we want him, and because that is what our Father in heaven has done for us.
I know that this is not an “exciting” update, and believe me, I wish it were. But I do strive to encourage you wherever you are in your spiritual journey. I want you to know that you are loved and you are seen. I beseech you to walk outside, right now, and bask in His wonder. The Creator of crickets and summer storms, spinning spiders and Milky Way galaxies, cradles each of your tears in His bottle. Whatever trial you may be going through, He is whispering in your ear a psalm of steadfast love that no man can muster. He is painting you sunsets of surrender and orangey pink passion. Be silent, and stand in awe of the beauty around you. He is our hope. Our only hope.