The Hard Things

There are so many lovely things about adoption. I could talk all day and into the night about the beautiful way that God works and the way that his hand is on it all. In fact, I have done that often. Our stories of adoption are pictures of his grace and his provision and his power. They really are.

But, there are some hard things, too. One of those is the grief that my babies are bound to experience…have already experienced, in Hope’s case. Today, Hope told me that she was so glad I was her mommy. She has such a sweet heart. A beat later, she said, “but I wish you looked like me.” I do too, frankly, not because I don’t believe that God is working out his own plan for her in our little family, but because I know it would be easier for her sometimes if I looked like her…easier for all of us. Just eliminate the pain, right?

But then again, I know it isn’t my job to eliminate all of her pain. As frustrating as that can be (I mean, what mom wants to watch her children suffer), I DO know that God placed her in our family. And, because he says he has good plans for her, for all of us, I know that it means that her suffering is meant to “bring about a glory that far outweighs them all.” As hard as it is for me to understand, my God was there as both my kids were conceived, loving them in the perfect way that only the Father can, and allowing them to be born to parents who loved them, but because of that, would place them for adoption…knowing they would hurt because of it. He also planned for my womb to be closed and for us to begin the processes of adoption at just the right time so that Hope Olivia Liywalii and then, Isabella Grace, would become a part of our family…knowing that we would, at times, hurt for them and with them.

The thing is, this part of the story…this pain… is no less beautiful than the other parts. It is messier for sure, harder guaranteed, but it is not out from under the protection of his hand, no less orchestrated than all the rest of it. So, what am I to do with that? I pull Hope up on my lap and assure her of the things I know to be true. That this was not all a mistake, that God has a wonderful, unique plan for her life, that it is okay to be sad about looking different than me, and that I could never have planned this crazy journey any better…that she is a beautiful gift of God’s grace and provision and power in our lives. Then, I let her scamper off to play and have a little cry in the shower…cause these truths don’t make it hurt any less.