Not giving up

As the agonizing imminence drags on, doubt creeps in and we wonder what God is up to. Will the judge ever decide on our petition? Why is CEJA, once so eager to push our case through, now asking us to be patient a little longer? Why can't anyone get any straight answers? What if the judge delays another week, 2 weeks, or another month or longer? Can our hearts take it? Did we hear our call correctly? When will God put our family together?

Luciana is concerned about our hearts and how much longer we can and should continue to wait for an answer before we consider the unthinkable--moving on. During a very kind and personal talk with her today, she seemed to be preparing us for the worst. Here are some of the down-heartening gems that came out of that conversation:

• We've never had to wait this long before.
• We don't understand what CEJA is doing.
• The head of CEJA is in charge of this part of the part of the process, she has been doing her job for a long time and she's personal friends with the judge. And still nothing moves.
• Lino is mad and frustrated.
• Would you like me to look for some more referrals for you?
• Now is the time to pray and have faith.
• If this goes on for another week, we should probably move on to other referrals.
• No one understands God's plan (followed by a long, sad, story about a family who suffered years of infertility followed by a heartbreaking miscarriage--and years later the children God planned for that family).

I realize that this is one serious downer of a list and that this kind of mood is atypical of the character of the record we've sought to keep here. However, this is real and we really want this the story to be recorded just as it is unfolded by its Author. And the really real reality right now is that we're in the pits. So I'm writing from the pits so that our children will one day know that we didn't give up on them even on days when everything seemed to be going wrong and it would surely be easier to move on or give up. We did not choose to grow our family this way because we thought it would be safe or simple. We're not haphazardly trying to rescue children from their unfortunate situations. (We've always said we're not in the business of rescuing children--just finding the ones God made as our sons and daughters.) We are trudging through dark, mucky waters in the middle of deep forests filled with fog and uncertainty. But we are trudging because we know that the road will shape us and in the clearing there will be a family and a future of joy and many other blessings. We are trudging because we know that our children need us even more than we need them. We are trudging through because... what other option do we have? What parent would give up on their children?

I wish I could be strong enough to bear this burden joyfully. I feel like I have for a long time, and now I am just so weak from the long journey that I cannot bear it well.

Yesterday I read Genesis 19:16-21 where the angels of the Lord pull Lot and his family out of the city of Sodom before it was destroyed with fire. They had to bodily pull him out by the hand and they told him to flee to the mountains so he would be safe. He said to them, "But I can't flee to the mountains; this disaster will overtake me, and I'll die. Look, here is a town near enough to run to, and it is small. Let me flee to it—it is very small, isn't it? Then my life will be spared." And the Lord agreed to spare that small town and let Lot and his family go there instead of into the mountains. Of course God could have given them the strength and protection they needed to flee to the mountains. God wasn't asking him to flee to his death. But Lot felt that he was too weak to do what God asked of him. And that is exactly how I feel right now. I am begging the Lord to let me go somewhere closer, safer, easier... anywhere but the mountains.

Please, Lord. I'm too weak for that journey. You can spare us from it and make miracles happen. Nothing is too difficult for you. Thank you for sparing us from the fire and keeping us safe in your arms... but Lord don't make us go to the mountains.