"Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don't try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; He's the one who will keep you on track." Proverbs 3:5,6 Message
Quiet time took on a new intensity as I interrogated the Creator, “God was that You?” Events began falling into place as we began a year of research into the world of adoption. A new prayer emerged from my heart, “Lord if this is Your will, lead us to our child, Your child.” Words from Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you…” played through my mind. I was learning to trust.
I don’t want to forget the emotional anticipation of expecting a child, linked to never-ending paperwork and fees and appointments. A new whirlwind of life began adding another layer of overwhelm to my already overfilled life. No longer did I daily set aside time for reflection, so driving to the hospital became my only respite. During these times, I thought about the irony of working so hard to complete our family while the increased stress was pushing us apart. Instead of a child, emptiness was again growing inside of me. What would it be like to just walk away? The thought tore through me. I rationalized, he seems miserable, I am short-tempered and exhausted, and she is probably young enough not to remember. What if I left? My heart pounded as I let this thought sit with me as I drove to work, numb. I was alarmed at how easily the speculation had surfaced. I knew it wasn’t what I wanted, but there had to be more to life than this mere existence.
I don’t want to forget the moment I heard the ominous train sound and realized he wasn’t by my side. In that split second, I couldn’t imagine life without him, without us. As wide-eyed teenagers we had taken a chance at love, marrying almost a decade later. Now, after 12 years of a ritualistic marriage, I was ready to commit my heart. A new resolve took root, and I vowed to find us. No longer was I willing to accept this existence, dictated by to-do-lists. The tornado had left our roof in our yard, and the unforgiving rain had rendered our home unlivable, but in the displacement, I began to find a new appreciation for the little things. It was during the disruption that we received an email that would redirect our focus.
I opened the long-awaited email, and looking back at me was a little boy. Guided by prayer, we concluded that this abandoned little boy and his 3-year-old twin siblings would become our children. As the final steps allowing us to bring our children home drew closer, we discovered another family member present in their lives; their mother. She knew nothing of our intentions to adopt her children. She had been told her children had been given the opportunity to “ live in a home” (not described as an orphanage) where Americans would come take them home and educate them (not described as adoption), and when they were older, they would return to her. Trusting, she had signed the documents authorizing this, not knowing that she had renounced her parental rights. Yet, we had documents stating the children had all been abandoned with no known family, orphans. A crossroads. We were two mothers, loving the same children.
My heart ached as I heard the news. Why had God led us to children who were not motherless? His words still echoed in my mind, and with so many unexplained occurrences making this our reality, I knew His hand was in this intersection. My prayer changed from “Father help us bring our children home,” to “ help us get Your children home.” We experienced the beautiful side of social media. Strangers, who would become friends and confidants, reached out to me through my blog. I joined a network of people who work all over the world to guide and protect mothers who are targeted and coerced. With my eyes opened, I questioned, how did we end up here?, and I felt Him remind me, “Child, you are right where I need you, trust Me.” When the African mother said, “I want to raise my children,” I heard, “Trust Me.” And when I wrote about the injustice uncovered and the agency said, “Keep this quiet,” and my attorney said, “Publish the blog post,” I heard “Trust Me.” And when the children’s mother arrived at the orphanage to reclaim her children, and they held her hostage, “Trust Me” rang in my ears. The events became escalated. Attorneys here and in the DRC represented both of our families, and we knew only a miracle would free them from the walls of the orphanage prison.
What should have been a simple day, felt far from being so. My phone dinged incessantly as I received messages from the attorney and a pastor in Kinshasa where plans were being made to free the mother and her children. I learned there had been a police raid and they had been released, along with countless other mothers and children. Emotions flooded over me. The triumph of their freedom and reunion, contrasted with the concern for adoptive families and legitimate orphans who now had much greater challenges to face. Had I made the right decision? If I had kept quiet, would the agency still have been forced to close down, closing the doors of their orphanages all over the world? But keeping quiet wasn’t an option. Children were being trafficked, mothers exploited and I heard Him say “Trust Me.”
As the intensity of our adoption journey turned to relocation and support, I realized how removed I had been from my family. I didn’t have the energy to curate meaningful blogging, social media, or emails, so I suspended it all. There was a cause to fight for, but I just couldn’t right then. I started by turning off all notifications on my phone, and life began to slow. I felt myself melt into this life that was right in front of me.
To be continued.