Tuesday, June 16, 2015

For T----

Dear T-----,

You are just a picture.

You are not mine yet.

I am scared to love you.

I am scared because one word from a social worker a half a world away could mean I never get to see you, ever. Those two pages of biography, those four darling pictures might be all I ever know. I am hesitant and cowardly, afraid of pouring my heart into someone I might never hear of again. But at the same time there is the tension of “You could be mine.” You could be mine forever. Mine to cuddle and comfort. Mine to answer a thousand Why’s and to clean up a million spilled glasses of – milk? Juice? I don’t even know if you can drink dairy, or if we’re heading into a lifetime of rice milk with cereal instead.

I think about you all the time. I pray for you nearly every night, smiling to myself, imagining you starting your day just as I am finishing mine. I wonder what you had for breakfast, and what you’re doing today.

My heart hurts so bad when I read your story. I pray that that there are people in your life who love you, who are cherishing you. I pray that someone is shining the Gospel-light into your life.

I’m so proud of how you’re overcoming your physical challenges. Several times in your biography the social workers talked about what a great attitude you have, how persistent you are, how you work to conquer the limitations you have. I want to cheer you on, tell you how well you’re doing, how proud I am of you, until you get embarrassed and roll your eyes and say “Moooooooom!” while secretly soaking in the praise. I think you’re awesome, and you’re only 3. (Almost 4!)

 It’s really hard for me to trust God right now. It’s hard for me to accept that his best plan for you might not be in our family. I want to bargain with God. I want to show God – let’s be honest, I do show God all my spiritual growth and spiritual “wins” and sacrifices and say “Look! Look at how much I’ve grown! Doesn’t that mean I get T----? You wouldn’t put me through all this and then not let me have him, right?”

But it doesn’t work that way. (Thank goodness.) I can’t be good enough to “deserve” you. You are a wonderful, beautiful child, made in the image of God, and that God doesn’t do bargains. He bestows gifts. And you are such a gift!

I love you, T----, even though I’m scared. I really hope I get to be your mommy.

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