Today, meet Sarah. Her and I have floated through life via acquaintances for several years she knows someone I know….etc. This past year, through the grace of God, texting, and our mutual love for adoption, we’ve become very fast friends. I hope you enjoy her story.
I believe we have a daughter in Colombia. Deep breath in. I’m almost certain of it. But this process of adoption is an ever-changing, beautiful beast.
My name is Sarah. I’m a mom/homemaker/pastor’s wife/artist living in West Virginia with my husband, Paul, and our three sons. Oh yeah, and a dog. Paul and I have been married nearly seven years, and, for nearly seven years, we’ve talked about wanting to adopt one day. With each passing year and each new birth, this “wanting” has revealed itself as what we would refer to as a “calling.” We feel compelled by the Holy Spirit to joyfully open our home and our hearts to a sweet child who is without a forever family. This undeniable urge lead us to bring in 2015 with lots of research and lots of questions. We eventually spoke with a pre-adoption specialist at one agency (which has since became our placing agency) about several potential programs. She mentioned Colombia, which we hadn’t necessarily thought to consider, and the light just came on. There was a click. And we haven’t turned back.
So much of our journey has yet to be written. We are still in the early stages, just a few months in, and chipping away at our home study. I thought this would be a really eloquent blog post with a tidy theme concerning adoption, but that just isn’t flowing. Instead, I’d like to share just a few different random thoughts and takeaways I’ve encountered already in this process.
1. I’m not in control. Of anything. Ever. Which is nothing new. But in this process (much like with being pregnant) it has become clear that even if I do everything right, something can still go very “wrong.” I say “wrong” but only by my own definition based on my own desires. Because God, in all His sovereign goodness, has already mapped this whole thing out. Beginning to end. And it is going to glorify Him, regardless of its twists and turns and eventual outcome. And though this is extremely terrifying, it is also so supremely comforting. I can rest even in trials and disappointments with broken plans made by broken people. Though it doesn’t tend to feel like it, this adventure is but a spec of precious time.
2. The clock ticks. The Paperwork and the Next Step just seem to keep piling on. Everything sort of dragging along. But then, I look up…and months have passed! It’s extraordinary how this seems to happen. Where did the time go? I am trying not waste any of these moments. It’s easy to want to urge the calender to flip when your heart is experiencing a deep longing. But I am just trying to stay present. To love where I am today. To enjoy the completeness of our family as it stands here in the middle of this week of May. If I don’t look up, I’m going to miss it all. So I’m trying to be vigilant. And I’m also trying to feel it all as deeply as possible. The fear. The excitement. The anticipation. This adoption, this first and perhaps only adoption for us, will not be able to be relived. I find myself embracing my ache and frustration and joy and wonder. Allowing myself to day dream and release guard of my hopeful heart as I glance at doll babies and skirts made for twirling.
3. I have a unique love for a child I have never laid eyes on. And it’s overwhelming. I think of her blurry face throughout the day. I find myself researching Colombian cities. Checking my email way. Too. Much. Fumbling over Spanish. She’s out there. What is she doing right this very second? Is she comfortable? Is she expecting to ever have a family? Will she want to/know how to love me? Her brothers? A new country? Has she ever tried ice cream or jumped on a bed or had a boo-boo magically healed by a kiss? Will I ever even know? I can’t wait to meet her.
4. Being vulnerable and exposed is both excruciating and liberating. Joyful and humbling. We have been met with such glorious response to our announcement of our pursuit to adopt. We have delighted in the encouragement we’ve received (especially hearing stories of how adoption has or hopefully will impact so many other families). But of course there is also rejection, both actual and perceived. Especially when words like “multiracial family,” “special needs,” “toddler,” and “our fourth child” are in the mix. Some people say (or don’t say) the unexpected. Some people don’t see it as a good thing. And they shouldn’t have to. But in these moments I’m reminded of just where my identity and trust can be found. My security is in the cross. And my obedience to what I firmly believe is His will upon my life is priority. And yes, like I said, it is so very humbling. We are fundraising almost the entirety of our very substantial adoption cost. This has been exhilarating, revealing, convicting, and exhausting. Nothing we could ever pull off by our own efforts. And the receiving of sacrificial giving? Heart swelling. With a deep responsibility to handle these gifts with great gratitude and respect. We obviously believe this is going to happen.
All this to say, we are very excited and expectant. We are learning and leaning and growing and gaining. And if you’d like to hear more of our story, more of our heart, you can find us at BoekellAdoption.com. And if you should feel lead in any way to help us bring her home, you’ll find a link to our fundraising page there as well (YouCaring.com/BoekellAdoption). I’d love to share this with you.
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