Doubts
I have been having doubts.
Not doubts about adopting. Not doubts about Landon*. But doubts about myself. About my ability to do this. Can I really do this? I am nowhere near perfect. I'm not a perfect mother. Sometimes I get impatient with my kids. Sometimes they go to bed too late, or eat cereal for dinner, or miss the bus. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed with the four kids I already have. How am I going to handle adding a fifth who brings with him special needs? Who brings with him issues that inevitably come with living his entire life in an orphanage with less than optimal care?
*deep breath*
*don't panic*
When I think about Landon*, I feel peace. When I think about having him home with us, tucking him in at night, cuddling him and kissing his sweet little cheeks, I feel calm. When I load my kids up to go to the park, or to have an Easter egg hunt, or go to Gran and Grandpa's for Sunday dinner I feel sad that Landon* isn't with us. Those are the feelings I keep going back to.
We haven't told very many people yet that we are adopting. We have decided to wait until our home study is approved so that we can start fundraising on Reece's Rainbow as soon as we announce it to everyone. But we've told family and a few people here and there. One response we've gotten is "do you really know what you're getting into?"
The answer is simple.
Nope.
We have no clue.
We weren't planning this for years like some have done. We happened to come across this little boy's picture and something awakened in our hearts. He was familiar to us somehow. The spirit whispered to us that we knew him and that we needed to bring him home. And so we are.
We have no idea what we're getting ourselves into. We know it will cost a lot of money. We know it will take months and months of paperwork and forms and legal documents. We are already thousands of dollars and many sleepless nights into this process, and we are just beginning. We know this sweet boy has special needs, that he is likely cognitively delayed, that he may be on the autism spectrum, that he doesn't yet speak and may never speak. We know that it will be a huge adjustment for our family, as well as for him.
But for the most part, we don't know. This is the ultimate exercise in practicing faith, in feeling the call and being asked to take multiple steps into the darkness. We are trusting that our Father in Heaven knows us, knows our children, and knows Landon*. He knows we are far from perfect, but He also knows that we are willing to be His hands, that we are willing to take an abandoned child, His child, into our home. That even though there are so many unknowns and so many potential difficulties, we will put our faith over fear and answer His call to rescue one of His precious children.
It is guaranteed to be hard. But hard doesn't mean wrong.
And many times it is through the hard that we most fully feel God's love and see His hand in our lives. God is asking us to do a hard thing. A beautiful, sacred, wonderful hard thing.
And so we are moving forward, hand in hand with God, to bring our little boy home.
*Landon is used to protect his privacy. We cannot share his real name until the adoption is complete.
Not doubts about adopting. Not doubts about Landon*. But doubts about myself. About my ability to do this. Can I really do this? I am nowhere near perfect. I'm not a perfect mother. Sometimes I get impatient with my kids. Sometimes they go to bed too late, or eat cereal for dinner, or miss the bus. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed with the four kids I already have. How am I going to handle adding a fifth who brings with him special needs? Who brings with him issues that inevitably come with living his entire life in an orphanage with less than optimal care?
*deep breath*
*don't panic*
When I think about Landon*, I feel peace. When I think about having him home with us, tucking him in at night, cuddling him and kissing his sweet little cheeks, I feel calm. When I load my kids up to go to the park, or to have an Easter egg hunt, or go to Gran and Grandpa's for Sunday dinner I feel sad that Landon* isn't with us. Those are the feelings I keep going back to.
We haven't told very many people yet that we are adopting. We have decided to wait until our home study is approved so that we can start fundraising on Reece's Rainbow as soon as we announce it to everyone. But we've told family and a few people here and there. One response we've gotten is "do you really know what you're getting into?"
The answer is simple.
Nope.
We have no clue.
We weren't planning this for years like some have done. We happened to come across this little boy's picture and something awakened in our hearts. He was familiar to us somehow. The spirit whispered to us that we knew him and that we needed to bring him home. And so we are.
We have no idea what we're getting ourselves into. We know it will cost a lot of money. We know it will take months and months of paperwork and forms and legal documents. We are already thousands of dollars and many sleepless nights into this process, and we are just beginning. We know this sweet boy has special needs, that he is likely cognitively delayed, that he may be on the autism spectrum, that he doesn't yet speak and may never speak. We know that it will be a huge adjustment for our family, as well as for him.
But for the most part, we don't know. This is the ultimate exercise in practicing faith, in feeling the call and being asked to take multiple steps into the darkness. We are trusting that our Father in Heaven knows us, knows our children, and knows Landon*. He knows we are far from perfect, but He also knows that we are willing to be His hands, that we are willing to take an abandoned child, His child, into our home. That even though there are so many unknowns and so many potential difficulties, we will put our faith over fear and answer His call to rescue one of His precious children.
It is guaranteed to be hard. But hard doesn't mean wrong.
And many times it is through the hard that we most fully feel God's love and see His hand in our lives. God is asking us to do a hard thing. A beautiful, sacred, wonderful hard thing.
And so we are moving forward, hand in hand with God, to bring our little boy home.
*Landon is used to protect his privacy. We cannot share his real name until the adoption is complete.
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