479

We first saw our son's face 479 days ago.

We've been waiting for our last document before we can go to court for 30 days (this was supposed to take two weeks, obviously not the case)

We really thought he'd be here by now, a lot of other people did too.  But he's not.  He's still in Africa, and we're still here in America.

This week marks 2 years since we sent our dossier off to Ethiopia and became a "waiting family".  Six months before that, were filled with tons of paperwork, fingerprints, doctors visit, interviews, home visits, etc. A TON of stuff.  It has gone fast, but at the same time, it's gone slow.

Adoption is a lot of hurry up and wait.  Hurry up and fill out this paper and then wait a long time..get this done super fast, so it can sit on a desk somewhere.

Oddly, it reminds me of this big tree in our back yard.  It's my favorite tree, and we have no idea what kind of tree it is.  It shades the whole house in the summer time, and offers a nice place to stay cool when you're outside, I really want Justin to build me a swing on it, but we'll see ;)

Anyway, it's the kind of tree that slowly drops it's leaves all year long, we're forever having to rake up the yard no matter what time of the year it is, eventually around December, it's fully empty and it just sits for months..like it looks dead.  This year, I really thought it was dead, I thought California's "deep freeze of 2014" had killed it (all my mid west friends can laugh at that as we had about two weeks of "freezing" temps) but really, I thought it was dead.  Everyday I would check on it, seeing if it had sprouted any new life, and every day it seemed like it hadn't.  I remember thinking "Great, now we have a dead tree we're going to have to get rid of, it's going to be so expensive to remove and then it's going to be so hot not because it's dead and there will be no shade now."

Until one day...

It was full again. 

In college, my RA and I went on a walk, it was the winter and it was cold and rainy (it was Portland) and I was pretty depressed and missing the dry days.  She told me "You know, spring always comes.  It might feel like it is taking forever to get here, but it always comes." 

Spring always comes.  

He will come home. 

It's just the dark before the morning. 

"Be assured that from the first day we heard of you, we haven’t stopped praying for you, asking God to give you wise minds and spirits attuned to his will, and so acquire a thorough understanding of the ways in which God works. We pray that you’ll live well for the Master, making him proud of you as you work hard in his orchard. As you learn more and more how God works, you will learn how to do your work. We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us" Colossians 1:9-12 The Message. 

Will you storm the gates of heaven with us tonight? In prayer that our final document will be issued and we can go to court? 

In which I learned a valuable lesson about adoption, while locked in the chicken coop...

I've been in a pretty grouchy mood. I've tried hard to keep my head up, but have started to grow weary.  This last leg in the adoption journey is probably the hardest yet.  Having absolutely no control, knowing we're so close to going, and waiting on others for documents.  Other's who operate in an entirely different way then we do here in the U.S of A.

If you follow me on Instagram, or Facebook, you may have seen that I locked myself in the chicken coop today..like for real.

I wish I could have made this up, but nope, it happened.  Let me walk you through it.  The coop was smelly, and I needed to clean it and change the water, so I did.  After I brought in the water jug, I closed the door so the ladies wouldn't get out, got everything settled and turned around, and..the door was locked.

So I pulled out my phone (thank you Jesus for modern technology) and called my husband dreading his response when I ask him to run home and let me out of the chicken coop.  I'll save you the details but there was a long pause on his end, then lots of laughing and when he could finally contain himself, he told me he'd come home. 

So I sat there and waited, and waited and waited.  In the coop, with nothing to do but think. And wait.

Waiting has been such a big part of our lives over the last two and a half years in the adoption journey.  Waiting on people, waiting on documents, waiting on governments, etc. So this was ironically such a  reflection to where I was.  And quite humbling as I sat in the coop with chicken poop lingering. 

But here's the thing, I knew Justin would come eventually and I would get out and not be waiting anymore, I waited for him with expectation knowing he would come, just like I know eventually we'll meet our son and bring him home, even though it feels like forever. 

So that's my valuable lesson for the day, sometimes God teaches you things by forcing you to stop and think and pray, and wait...even if it's in the chicken coop. 

“She woke each morning with a glow of hope,
not because a new dream had been born,
but knowing the one she carried
inside her heart would last.”
-Jodi Hills

And hey! Our #taghisbag is still going on! And we're at $2,717!!! You can find out how you can come to Africa with us here!