Today, this very moment, I am the busy mom of many. I am trying to get myself together before I wake the kids and prepare myself for the onslaught of activity and noise. I will likely have to raise my voice to be heard above the din. (In case you are wondering, din is a loud confusing mixture of noises that last for a long time.)
Today, this very day, I will likely speak with one of my teen daughters concerning her choice of clothes, scold my other daughter concerning her bossiness. I will most likely have to remind one son to keep on task and another to keep his hands to himself. I will surely pray hard as I attempt to teach my son with dyslexia his reading lesson. Oh, and let’s not forget the two ‘grown’ sons. I’ll most certainly be cautioning and encouraging them.
My life is full to the point of me trying to catch my breath and maintain my sanity at points and the reason why? These children. The ones I asked God to give me. My answers to prayer. They have filled my empty arms. They have stretched me and challenged me. I am stronger and wiser. I am exhausted and spent. I am their mother and it is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It is the greatest thing I’ve ever done.
This week, this very week, I’ve been privy to a life-altering event, an answer to prayer. A niece and nephew who have waited as long as Henry and I did (thirteen years) brought home their long-awaited and prayed for child. They texted me a picture of him wearing the little crocheted booties I made them two years ago as a token of faith for when the day came. Your day is coming, I told them. And, now their day has come! Suddenly, they are seeing their dreams fulfilled right before their eyes. Suddenly, the world looks different, priorities change, sleep will become a rare commodity. This tiny life will explode the world as they knew it. It won’t be long that the memories of waiting and hoping and praying will slip into the form of a dusty, stored away yesterday.
Even as I look for my courage to face my overwhelming day and even as I celebrate their new day, I am remembering those who are still waiting. I am praying for those who will wrap their arms around each other and at times around themselves to try to cope with the terrible time of waiting for those arms to be filled with a child, their child, their very own child.
Your day is coming. Your path will be different. Your disappointments may be many. Your waiting may seem unbearable. Your plight may seem hopeless. Your plan may be altered. Your hope may be almost diminished. But, I assure you, your day is coming.
I believe that adoption has a great spiritual significance. I believe if the Lord has given you the desire to adopt you have been called and chosen to a uniquely beautiful form of parenting. I believe that adoption is a result of answering that call.
So, take courage if you are still waiting. Your day is coming. And when it does, I’ll be rejoicing with you.