Grafted

I have written before about the wait, how it's hard, how the paper pregnancy can invoke hormones and emotions much like biological pregnancy. It may not make any sense to the casual observer, but it's true. 

We are on day 52 of the LOA wait today. We far exceeded 52 days with Zach's wait - and figured we would because of the order of Log-In Date vs match file received. With Asher we only waited 29 days. It was all we knew at the time, and still it was excruciating. 

Right now 52 days hurts. It's not the worst number there is. Not by a long shot. Some people more than double that in the wait for this one document. My heart is aching for Leah though. 

I'm not worried about her. I know that the same God who has held her and kept her safe this far will continue to do so. He preserved her life before I knew she existed. So, I have no fear that He won't continue to do so. He doesn't need my help for that. And since she's sponsored in our Agency's care center, she's receiving the best care possible. So, I know she's in good hands. 

I'm not worried about the timeline. I am confident that the same God who has planned this part of our lives before the foundations of the earth will carry it through to completion in HIS timing. And He has proven Himself faithful with the timing of each of these processes... Even when His timeline doesn't match up with mine. I am anxious to get there in the same way that a child is anxious for Christmas morning... antsy with anticipation... but not worried that it won't come or that it isn't right. I've done-worried-sick-over-adoption-timelines before. I've taken my eyes off the One who has the whole thing planned out and let myself fumble in the dark, miserable and worried over how I've not gotten what I think is best. It's awful. And futile. And painful. This is not that. 

But right now my heart hurts. 

I have had regular intervals of moments over the past couple of days when something triggers in my mind and I think of her and my heart actually feels like it stops for a minute. And my eyes well up with tears. I can't breathe. And I feel like I can't possibly function without her here. It's hard to put into words. It hurts. A reminder that part of my heart is missing and ripped open. 

(Disclaimer for anyone who is worried here: I am not actually having any heart/health problems. Physically, I'm just fine. Breathing fine. No need to call 9-1-1) ;) 

I've been thinking and praying a lot lately about the pain though. "I know absence makes the heart grow fonder," and whatnot. But why the hurt? Why this level of hurt at this point? And how am I actually still at peace in the middle of it? 

I am thankful for the hurt. Happy about the ache. Peaceful in and with the pain. Why? Because I know it means I'm already bonding with my daughter. This is a peace that doesn't come from me or from anything I do. God has spoken peace to my heart, leading me to trust Him in this, and growing a fierce love for this child... His child... my precious daughter. The hurt? Well, I would hurt if I was separated from any of my kids for this long. I would ache to hold them if any of them was on the other side of the world. This hurt is healthy. This pain is good. I can be thankful for this kind of pain. 

This morning though, I was reading the blog of a mom who, as I type this, is meeting her sweet little son for the very first time. She is in that same room in Zhengzhou where I hope to be very soon, and her words hit home with me today. When family trees grow through adoption, branches must be grafted in. She writes, "We know that this is where the healing will begin. He cannot be grafted into our family any other way. In order to be grafted in there must be a cutting - a cutting away of the old - in order for the new to heal and grow together. This is where we are now, ready for the cutting so that the healing can begin... "

She meant it in reference to the sorrow that exists on Gotcha Day, in spite of the tremendous joy. There is pain as a child is torn from everything he has every known, and handed over to strangers who are in every way unfamiliar. Pain that must be endured on the child's part to leave the old life and enter the new. 

However, parents have to endure pain too. Both the old tree and the new branch must be cut to be able to grow together. And while the pain Leah has endured so far has been proportionally much greater in her short little life than what I'm dealing with now, this concept of grafting hit home with me today. These moments when my heart stops and I find it hard to breathe... These are moments when I feel how my heart has been exposed. I feel like I've been cut open like part of a tree... The protective bark-covering has been peeled back and is laying open, ready for the new branch to be grafted in. Cutting is painful. Growth can hurt. But it is GOOD. 

So, if you think of it, pray for us. Join me in thanking God for Leah... and for adoption... and for peace... and for pain that leads to healing. Pray that I will continue to be filled with peace during this wait. Thank Him with me that He does have a perfectly timed plan and that I can trust Him. However, I know He knows my heart, and he loves when we pour our hearts out to Him. So, while I ask you to join me in praying that His will and His timing be done, I think we can also ask him to let Gotcha Day come quickly and without any more delays. I can't wait to finally hold her!