In some ways, four Februaries ago seems worlds away - a different country, a different career, a different me. But in others, it seems like it was just yesterday, as vivid memories flood my mind - our first day welcoming Makham, our first vacation into the mountains with him, playing peekaboo behind the couch, reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear for the hundredth time, cuddling with his favorite blanket. And then, that final memory, forever engrained in my soul: watching him reach for me when we drove away.
When we waved goodbye that last day, we waived goodbye to our idealistic visions of the future, to our narrow visions of God and prayer, to our dreams of adoption, to our role as parents.
The following months became a whirlwind of sadness, despair and confusion. We had no idea how to cope, how to process the grief, how to live in light of our loss. And so, after a time, we saw no other choice but to avoid it. We moved on with life and tucked that painful piece of the puzzle tightly into our past. We let go of the dream to care for orphans and began building our family biologically.
I found myself unable to live authentically, wholeheartedly, without fitting this piece of adoption back into our puzzle.
In the end, we choose alignment with our deepest passions, fidelity with our truest selves.
We chose to accept the referral and thus began the rocky, slow road of bringing him home.
Richard Rohr, in his book Everything Belongs, wrote this:
"There is a unique truth that our lives alone can reflect. The most courageous thing we will ever do is to bear humbly the mystery of our own reality."
Be courageous today, friend. We need your unique truth.