Beauty for Ashes

For many reasons, we have decided that, until God closes the door for us, we will fight for this specific little girl who has stolen our hearts until we bring her home. It's strange at times, to have such a fierce love for a child we've never even met. And yet most of the time, it just feels normal, as though she were born from my own body.

The last couple of months, the day before and the day of the "list" coming out, I've been a bit of an emotional basket-case. I am excitement, worry, apprehension, fear and elation all rolled into one. And as I've said before, it's not due to a lack of peace over the situation or a fear of what will happen--because we know God is in control. It's more the mama in me--wanting so badly to care for my child and realizing I'm at the mercy of others for (literally) God only knows how long.

When we first came across this little girl, I was so captivated I began researching where she lived, the culture that surrounded her, what her weather was like, etc. Trying, somehow, to envision her there and what life was like for her. My wonderful, and very practical husband, however, told me it was probably better to wait until we knew for sure she was ours before doing all of that research. So I stopped. Until this morning.

I started looking again today. I pulled up images, websites, info pages...pages on language, history, climate, tourism, industry, location, and so on. At first I was intrigued. So much of this culture is foreign to me, so much I don't understand. Then I became excited. I mentally planned out (in a matter of minutes before my brain switched to another thought, lol) what would be the best way to drink it all in. I desperately want to understand where she's from, to experience so much of it. I picture us by rivers, hiking mountains, site seeing the numerous attractions, all in an effort to fully BE in her world.

And then it hit me. An over whelming sense of sadness and grief. While she will gain a family and love and security that she's never known, she will also lose the culture where she was given life. All of its beauty, its wonder, its history, its language...it will all be as foreign to her as it is to me one day. And that breaks my heart. It creates in me a pain that is different from any I've ever known. My insides ache for the loss my daughter will experience that she has yet to even realize.

There is so much about adoption that is beautiful, magnificent, truly sent from God. There is so much to be said for a child finding a home where he/she is forever loved and for the change only he/she can bring to that family. But so often I believe it is over looked, the grief they will suffer. Not just in the loss of their birth family, but, especially in cases of international adoption, the loss of their people, their language, their culture. This point was brought to my attention for the first time at an adoption conference we recently attended. At the time I thought, wow, I never thought of that...that's deep. But today, God has allowed me to FEEL it...to grieve for my daughter. I can't begin to explain how it feels but it is raw, and it is real, and it is painful. Yet I know that it is nothing compared to what my daughter will feel when she is older, when she understands, when she really gets it.

As a mom, I've always (at least to this point) felt confident in my ability to soothe my children, to comfort their pain, their frustration. Because I've been there. I've been the pre-teen that was picked on in the midst of struggling to figure out who I am. I've been the 4th & 5th grader trying to decide how to deal with friends and for the first time, those who weren't friends. I've been the 4 year old whose whole world is candy and roses and everything's sweet. :) But for the first time, I'm staring down a path I've never seen, contemplating issues I've never experienced myself, and wondering how on earth I will ever fully help my daughter grieve.

Adoption is beautiful, exciting, and wonderful...and at the same time hard, ugly, and down right scary. But it is drawing me closer to Jehovah-Jireh, the God who provides, Jehovah-Shalom, the God of peace, and more than anything, Jehovah-Rapha, the God who heals. Only He will make my little girl whole. Only He will mend her broken, hurting places. Only He will provide us with what we need, when we need it, to be there for her when she grieves. And she will.

"When sorrow seems to surround you
When suffering hangs heavy o'er your head
Know that tomorrow brings
Wholeness and healing
God knows your need
Just believe what He said

He gives beauty for ashes
Strength for fear
Gladness for mourning
Peace for despair"

         --Beauty for Ashes, Crystal Lewis