One year ago we got a seemingly “ordinary” piece of mail in our mailbox. It was the Samaritan’s Purse newsletter. I always set these to the side and it usually takes me months to read them. But I read them. I just so happened to get an opportunity to read this one more quickly than usual and there was an article that I remember to this day. It was an article about the orphans in Vietnam. My heart was stirred. My heart ached. I assumed it was the mommy in me that was wanting to care for them all.
Then a blog that I follow did a feature on adoption. This blogger featured stories of building her family through adoption and, again, my heart was stirred. All things adoption kept on popping up. Everywhere. It became laughable when we pulled into a store parking lot and parked next to a van that had an “adoption rocks!” bumper sticker affixed to it.
Josh and I talked. We prayed. There we sat with an almost 4 year old and a barely 2 year old and we were feeling called to adopt. So I did the most “rational” thing I could think to do–I tried to convince God that He had the wrong girl. My hands were full. Overflowing, some might say. Surely He really wasn’t calling us to adopt. Well, while trying to persuade God that He had it wrong, He convinced me that I was the one who had it all wrong. I was humbled. God clearly thought a lot more of me than I thought of myself.
God continued to guide our journey as we looked to adopt from China, then Korea, then the Marshall Islands. One by one, those doors seemed to close. Then there was Ethiopia. The door to adopt from Ethiopia was wide open and the fit was perfect. The funny thing is that from the very beginning I felt like God had placed Africa on my heart. I couldn’t explain why but there it was.
A year later, here we are. Waiting. Waiting for our child from Ethiopia. Praying that, above all else, God’s will be done.