Journey to L and H: Where is the justice?

Every journey to adoption is unique. I'm completely convinced that it is a spiritual battle. A fight for justice. It is gut-wrenching, sweat-inducing, nerve-wracking. It saps your strength and your fortitude. And sometimes all you have left is a dimly lit path before you, blurred brambles on each side, and a feeling of utter helplessness. One foot in front of the other. One day at a time. God is with us, we will not fall.

We have been blessed to be connected with an entire community of fellow Liberian adoptive parents. One family is here with us. Thank the Lord for them. We couldn't walk this journey without them and it's been a joy to connect with them here. Other families are matched. Some families are not. They are wading through the muck, just as we are. When one of them is having a rough day, the others set aside their own feelings and lift that person up. When one family shares of added delays or unexpected setbacks, we feel it as if it was our own. It's taking a whole village, arms linked with each other, to make it through these heavy days.

Each week feels like the same rigamarole. Mondays are our "day of hope". As the sun rises, we can't help but pray and hope that this week is the week. Tuesday comes and it's still early so we don't lose heart. Wednesday brings some anxiety amidst the remaining hope we have. This IS the week, right? Then Thursday sets in, and then Friday comes. No news. No progress. The police are still working. They still need to do this. They still need to check that. Interviews? Printing? Is someone doing something on this day? Let it be so. Then comes the dreaded weekend. If you have ever experienced adoption, weekends are the WORST. Offices close, progress is hung in suspension and our collective breaths are held between Friday afternoon and Monday morning. Nothing happens and we have to grin and bear it. 

Between us and the other family here, the Smiths, we have contacts that we write almost every day and we are constantly trying to keep apprised of the ever-changing, complicated situation. We hired a lawyer months ago who has helped us keep our sanity simply by keeping tabs on things. Our orphanage director knows people who knows things. Randomly, the owner of the apartment we are staying in knows people also. We've sat at the MOG God knows how many times and have added those people into our list of contacts. On our low days, we write them and plead for some good news. Every few days, we might get some news but it never FEELS like progress. Because we're still going to bed at night without our two daughters under our roof. It doesn't matter what's happening behind the scenes because we don't FEEL like we've gotten anywhere. We don't FEEL like anyone else cares about our girls, about the children in that home whose time in limbo has been extended over and over. Each child is need of a mom and dad. 10 of them are matched. 10 have the hope of family, yet that's still out reach. Where is the justice? The rest are ready to be matched, with families waiting on the other side. 

There is a thrill knowing that there will come a time when the children that we've gotten to know at the orphanage will be matched with families that we personally know on the other side. To be able to say, "I remember your child(ren), let me tell you all about them." For now, I will love on those kids in their place. And hope that each snuggle, high five, and time spent helps just a tiny bit in showing these kids that their parents are coming. Hold on.

So we take deep breaths. And we go about our day. And we do school and cook simple meals and read Scripture and play games and watch movies and send thank yous and write updates and apply for online classes and eat chocolate and go swimming and have occasional meltdowns and write our friends and read books.

And we go visit our girls each week, disappointed that we can't give them the good news they long for, holding out hope for the long-anticipated day. Someday this will all be behind us. Someday we can look back without the swirling emotions and see it more clearly. 

It's coming. 

It's coming.