Flying kites in a whirlwind

Adoption is not for the faint of heart. Rather, you are called to it. It is no mere weekend adventure. Instead, it is flying a kite in a whirlwind. You throw your sail into the air and hang on for dear life.

Yesterday, my wife and I were talking about our first adoption five years ago when our Tessa came home to us. I was reminding her of how out of control things felt near the end of the process. Heather was going through chemotherapy and we were hoping Tessa would be home by Christmas. In fact, we were specifically praying that she would get a December 17th embassy date, but even a week before she came home, we were told by our social worker that she just didn't see how it could happen. But God...I love those two words...but God moved mountains and we received a December 16th date, almost as if He were saying, "I'll do you one better." As whirlwinds go, that one felt like a subtle breeze compared to this time around.

Adopting from Haiti has brought with it every emotion--fear, joy, anger, sadness, bitterness--the list goes on. This has been a much longer process too, years versus months. Each trip to Haiti makes it harder to leave. Heather, Grace, and Tessa have now been living down there with Jasmine and Calvin for about 3 weeks in the home of a dear friend. Even in that brief period of time, our emotions have blown in a thousand directions, though yesterday was hardest.

We had been searching for the children's birth mother, following whatever leads we could and eventually, they just seemed to dry up. We had no clue where to find her and in a country of millions of people, where do you go next when your leads have led nowhere? Friday morning, Heather purchased plane tickets to come home on Saturday and began packing while trying attend to a sobbing Jasmine and a Grace refusing to come home. I wished I was there with her to help pick up the pieces. After crying for hours, Jasmine went out on the porch to pray. Fifteen minutes later, Heather received a call that the kid's birth mother had heard on the radio that we were looking for her and had come to the orphanage, the one thing we needed to happen. Our mourning turned to dancing in a very literal sense.

Heather and I made the decision to cancel the Saturday return trip, eating the $1600 tickets if need be. It was more important to stay and see this through. Amazingly, I was able to cancel the tickets with only a $75.00 service charge.

So, what does that mean over the next few weeks? God only knows. For us, it means hanging tight to the kite string, knowing that our God lives in the whirlwind.

Postscript: If you want to read more stuff about our adoptions, you can click here.