Yesterday, I sat down to write a blog post. I only managed a few lines before someone delivered the kind of news that gives your chest a nice, hearty wallop.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share any of this online, but I’d already announced the good news about our referral early in September. An update would eventually be necessary. Plus, I’m a writer. Which means the best way for me to process anything is…..revelation of all revelations….through writing.
Here are the lines I had written…
We all want to believe that our anguish can turn into joy.
That our tears are never wasted.
That God has a plan.
Not just a plan with an upper-case P, as in the ultimate plan.
But a plan with a lower-case p, as in a personal plan for each of our lives.
Then the phone rang and I answered it and it was our adoption agency with sad news.
Our little two-year old Congolese boy is no longer ours.
The story is long and heartbreaking and comes with more questions than answers.
But despite the sadness, I have to believe it wasn’t a coincidence that these were the words I was typing when that phone call came.
I have to believe it wasn’t a coincidence that I’d just listened to a message about anguish and joy, a la Beth Moore. How the two are opposite sides of the same coin. And if we trust God with our anguish, it has the potential to birth something precious.
I one hundred percent believe that God has a plan for us in this.
But most especially and more importantly, I have to believe that God has a plan for that little boy.
When Brogan was in utero, I wrote him love letters. Words that expressed my hopes for his future, my excitement about all the things we would share as mother and son, and how much that little bean was already loved.
Even though this little guy is no longer ours, I feel like he’s no less deserving of a love letter all his own.
So here it is. The hopes I have for his life, wherever it may take him.
Dear Little Man,
I hope that wherever you are, you would have hands to hold you when you’re sick, hug you when you’re scared, and lips to kiss your hurts.
I hope that somebody teaches you about God’s love.
I hope that you will not grow up with a hardened heart.
I hope that despite being forgotten and neglected and beat down by this messed up world, you will feel God’s presence in your life and know He will never abandon you. I know your story, little one. He can turn the deepest scars and the worst anguish into joy, if you let Him.
I hope that you grow into a man who loves the Lord with all your heart and soul and mind and strength.
I hope that you discover your voice and use it to stand against injustice.
I hope that you never let fear or doubt or failure keep you from living life to the fullest.
I hope that you will know freedom and you will know joy and despite it all, you will know laughter and love.
All of my mine,
A woman who would have been honored to be your mother