How does that saying go? "When amongst friends you should never talk about religion or politics." Or something like that. I admit that I don't follow that rule very well...though, its usually politics that gets me tripped up.
I've never said that I was a perfect Christian. I know that I am FAR from it. I don't think there is such a thing...unless you're Jesus Christ himself. We're human. We have failings. And I have my fair share (well...my fair share and a few more I picked up along the way). To be completely honest, sometimes I don't even bother trying to be more faithful. Sometimes it feels like too big of a burden.
Last night I had a chance to go out for dinner with a good friend of mine. I didn't realize just how much I NEEDED that get-away until we were sitting in the restaurant deep in conversation and the employees of the restaurant were cleaning around us (clearly hinting that "hey - we're closing - its time for you to go!"). We talked about what was going on in her life...and when she started wrapping that up, I totally took over the conversation to talk about what's going on in mine. Specifically what's going on with us in the adoption world.
During the course of the conversation, I realized that I have a problem. A spiritual problem to be exact.
I'm a little bit angry.
Let me explain. When we started the process to adopt, we were no where near ready to do so. It wasn't in our plans. It wasn't on our radar screen. Not even close. We hadn't financially recovered from the first adoption process. We were still getting used to the dynamics of being a family of 4 and to being parents. But our boys' little brother was in need of a place to go. Of course we HAD to do it. We didn't know how we'd manage, but we'd find a way.
We stepped out in faith.
Then things took a turn for the worse. Twinkie (the boys' brother) was no longer available for adoption. Other terrible things happened. We grieved. We took time to think and pray about what we should do. In the end, we decided that we still wanted to adopt again. We still felt like that was what was being asked of us. And we still felt connected to Ghana. We felt like perhaps we were supposed to be on this path to be ready at just the right moment to adopt the child who needed us the most.
We stepped out in faith.
We told Anita we were ready to continue on. The same day, she told me about a little girl in Ghana who has a long, tragic story (even though she's very young). Might we be interested? Think about it.
I haven't stopped thinking about it. About her.
But the truth is, this little girl's situation is complicated. Her future is a HUGE question-mark. Her health is complicated. She might have far more serious issues than we (than I) feel comfortable dealing with. I put together a packet of information about her to share with international adoption doctors, one of which spelled out a very bleak picture for this little girl.
We've been thinking about how we could make things work for us to adopt this little girl...and we haven't come up with any clear answers that we have peace about. She will have special needs (though no one knows to what extent). She will need to be in the kind of environment that will help her reach her full potential (whatever that is). But around here, daycare programs that would be suitable for her are unbelievably expensive. In the range of $800-$1,072 a month (plus what we have to pay for the boys' after school program (which is about $300 a month). We simply cannot afford it. Pure economics.
If I'm completely honest with myself, I KNOW that I feel something for this little girl for a reason. I KNOW that I am being called to play some role in her life. I KNOW that there's a reason why I can't get her out of my mind (even after we told Anita "no"). The problem is that I don't know exactly what my role is supposed to be.
And if I go even further with my honesty, I will admit that I am a little angry about that. Angry at God.
Got that? Yeah, I'm not perfect. Not even close. My faithlessness is clear to all when I say that I'm angry at God about this.
I'm angry because I'm tired. Stepping out in faith is not something that comes naturally to me. I don't like the "unknown". I don't like not knowing how we'll be able to do something. I don't like not having a plan. A plan where every step is clearly thought out and all expenses are accounted for.
But during this process, I've done it. I've stepped out in faith. I've believed that we were doing what we were supposed to be doing, even if it meant I felt a bit outside of my comfort zone.
I've stepped out in faith.
But He keeps asking me to do it over and over and over again during this process. He keeps pushing me to do MORE. Why? Why can't this step be good enough for now? Why do I have to keep pushing myself to go out further on a ledge? Why does it have to be an uphill battle all the way?
It isn't fair. I wish I could sit back in this wait and know that the perfect child is out there...and we'll know who she is at the right time. Instead, I am sitting here wondering if I already know who the perfect child is...I'm just too afraid to step out in faith again.
The truth is, I'm tired of stepping out in faith without getting a clear and obvious sign that "THIS - RIGHT HERE - THIS IS THE STEP YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO TAKE!!!"
"GO HERE AND I WILL HANDLE THE REST."
"TAKE THIS STEP AND HAVE PEACE IN YOUR HEART"
I can't do any more steps out in faith without that sign. This process is too hard. Its too complicated. Its too frustrating.
I'm admitting my weakness. I'm laying down my fleece.
I need a sign. A "knock you on the forehead" kind of sign.
Pray for me.