Brielle's Tears

To those of you that check often, I apologize for the lack of posts. Regarding "C" and "E", there is not much to report. This is frustrating, painful AGONIZING, and just really, really.... it stinks. We hope to receive court dates and updates about how they are doing soon. We are also hopeful that we are going to get to send them Christmas gifts!!! Our agency is working with some people in-country to hopefully make this happen. I do have more to share regarding the ins and outs of where we stand and what's left to be done between now and when we travel to get the girls, but my purpose for writing tonight is concerning the daughter that we have under our roof right now.

Brielle is our precious, witty, oh-so-lovable six year old biological daughter. She was four years old when we began to teach her about adoption and explain that we were going to adopt an orphan into our family and he/she would be her first sibling. She has NEVER been anything but ALL IN. She has never even hinted that she wants to be an only child, or that she would rather have Mommy have a baby, or that she doesn't want siblings that have a different skin color, or any other thing that maybe some people might fear their kids would think or say if they were to consider adoption. 

It's been the exact opposite. As silly as this may sound, Brielle has been one of mine and Brett's biggest supporters through this entire journey from the very beginning. As a matter of fact, it is because of Brielle's insistence (and her adamant prayers for her "two sisters... or brothers... or both [her way of saying, one of each]") that there were TWO instead of ONE that we even began entertaining such a thought. I will share with you sometime what I wrote in my journal during this time of us focusing on adopting one while Brielle would not stop talking about and praying for two. It was very unsettling to me, because in my human reasoning it did not seem possible to adopt two right now. We were a single-income family, we couldn't afford it, so we had not even considered allowing God to lead us down such a path as a result. Also, we had decided, using earthly reasoning, that we are new to this whole adoption thing and needed to get our feet wet first before we try adopting multiple children at once. I thank God that He used Brielle to change the direction we had chosen for ourselves using our human reasoning. I praise Him for revealing to us that His ways are not our ways and His thoughts are not our thoughts. She did not change our minds, but she did open the door for us to actually bring it before our awesome Father and ask Him what His will really was for us concerning this first adoption journey. 

When we showed Brielle "C"s referral picture, she was amazed. Her eyes lit up to see a face, to actually see proof that this was actually happening after a year and a half of her praying and talking about her "two sisters... or brothers... or both." She asked what her name was, and we told her. Those of you that have heard "C"s birth-given name know that it is not an easy one to pronounce. It is French and can be a bit of a tongue twister. I remember practicing saying her name over and over again in the car on the way to meet Brett at Panera to sign paperwork and see her face (see my "Referral Day" post for all the details of that day). I didn't want to struggle to correctly pronounce her name to Brett, so I kept saying it under my breath all the way there. Then I had to coach Brett, who is normally very good at pronunciations, for a minute for him to get the hang of it.

Shortly after seeing "C"s picture, Brielle asked us what her name is. She repeated it back to us perfectly, and has never mispronounced it since. The name is actually 3 words, so Brett and I usually only call her by the first part. Brielle though, she never leaves out the last two parts of it. I think it's her first of many proud big sister moments, to be able to pronounce "C"s name when most adults initially cannot.

We knew at the time of receiving "C"s referral that, indeed, a second child was going to be referred to us (though we did not know what the age or sex would be) and we shared that information with Brielle. After almost 6 weeks of waiting, we finally got the call about a 2nd file being ready: for a little girl the same age as "C." I will not forget the joy in Brielle's eyes as she examined "E"s face on the computer screen in our agency's office, where we went to sign referral paperwork and see her picture for the first time. Her delight could be heard in her giggles and her "Awww"s and "She's so cute!" remarks. Looking back, I wish I could hear what went on in her head. I wonder at which point the reality hit her: "Two little sisters. I am going to be a big sister to two little girls." I think it didn't take long for that to sink in, because at least daily she would say something like "Mommy, that's a lot of girl clothes you will need!" or "We need two more pink car seats!" or "Mommy... 6 GIRLS will be in our home! We are going to gang up on Daddy!" (Let me clarify, she counts our female dog and hedgehog in that total) with a giggle and the biggest smile that girl's cheeks can hold. More recently, at our 2nd adoption yard sale held last month (hmm.. yeah, I need to blog about that too) she was picking out toys and clothes that were for sale and trying to convince me that we should keep them for "C" and "E" to play with and wear. 

I say all of the above to preface the whole reason I am compelled to blog tonight, after midnight on a night that I have to get up at 6:45 in the morning. Something happened tonight with Brielle, and it is so moving that I want to share it with you. 

The heartache and anguish felt in the wait of this adoption has, up to this point, been reserved for Brett and me as these girls' prospective adoptive parents. Brielle invited herself to this table of suffering, a place we have purposely tried to keep her from joining us at by very intentionally only speaking of this journey with smiles and excitement around her. And as a result, big sister cried her first tears over her little sisters.

I left Brielle alone in the bed for a couple of minutes to let her pray alone. This is something I've recently felt led to do instead of being present to hear her prayers because I do not ever want her to do lip service to God. I don't want her on autopilot, saying a prayer that means nothing to her and requires no thought because it has become habit. If I am listening, she is going to pray something, possibly with her heart and focus not being right. She might be doing it out of ritual, knowing that it is just what she does every night before I pray over her and sing her a lullaby. I do not want religious rituals to ever be what drives her to prayer.

If I am not nearby to listen during her prayer time, she is alone with God and free to not pray if her heart isn't in it, without fear of disappointing me. She's free to not try to put on a mask or be fake with her words. She is simply free in those few minutes to pursue communication with Him by choosing how she wants to pray and what she wants to say if she does pray instead of feeling the pressure to "perform" because I am listening. After all, prayer is a two- way street; I do not want to prevent her from hearing Him speaking back to her as a result of inviting myself into a conversation that I do not belong in. 

When I opened the door to walk back into the room, I could hear her crying before I even made it past the door frame. I quickly got to her side, and she looked at me with her eyes full of tears. I asked what was wrong, expecting her to respond that she was sad that she only got to see Daddy Ed (her grandfather, my Dad, who arrived an hour before she went to bed and will be leaving before she gets out of school tomorrow) for a little bit. "I've been waiting a really long time..." she begins, and instantly I finish her sentence in my head as: "... to see Daddy Ed and now I have to go to bed and won't see him tomorrow." It didn't take but a split second for me to find out that my assumption of what she was saying was waaaay off target. 

"I've been waiting a really long time to have C and E home..." tears fall, and she cries, "I want them home now, Mommy." I choke up, fighting my own tears now. I'm not sure I have seen her heart broken like this before. It was hard to see, yet so beautiful at the same time because it spoke volumes of her love for them. I told her that it's ok to cry, and that God hears our cries. Then she says, "I just want to hear their voices. I want to hear their voices Mommy, and I want to see them and feel them." And at these words, I couldn't be tough anymore. My heart shattered. When she spoke those words, I saw our girls in my mind. I imagined their voices and what it would feel like to actually see and touch them. I held her close to my chest and we cried together. She pulls away from me and adds, "I just wanna see their eyes. I just wanna be with them." I tried to put on my brave face and smiled at her. I told her that she is an awesome big sister and I want to see, hear, and feel them too.

And as I wanted to take Brielle's sadness away, I also realized something that deepened the pain- and consequently, the beauty- of this sacred moment I found myself in as my kindergartener wept to have her sisters home...

I have not allowed myself to "go there"- the place of longing to know them that Brielle went to. I have purposely tried to keep my mind mostly detached from my heart when it comes to C and E. Please don't misunderstand; I love them with all of my heart, I think about them daily, and I long to have them home NOW. But up to this point I have forced myself to not think about such details as what their voices sound like or what they are like in real life as opposed to a still image in a photo. Up until this point, I have not let myself intricately imagine scooping them in my arms, feeling their skin against mine. And as bad of a Mom as this might make me sound, I need you to know that I have WANTED to imagine such things. Their pictures are the background and lock screen on my phone, staring at me over and over again throughout the day as I send/receive texts and read/write email and check the time and every other technological task. And I have to force myself to not rest my eyes on their faces for too long, because I will lose it. I will bust into tears and be tempted to crawl into bed and sleep away these several remaining months before we go to get them. (That, or eat lots and lots of ice cream.) Their faces pierce my heart every single time. Over and over again every day. From looking at their faces so much, I find myself drifting into such thoughts... but I snap myself out of it because it starts to sting.

Because I have seen the torment it causes adoptive Moms who allow themselves to "go there" mentally and then something goes wrong and they never even get to meet or bring home the child whose details they focused on. Additionally, we are cautioned against becoming too attached until court is passed and the visas are issued because referrals can be lost at the drop of a hat over reasons beyond anyone's control. And even when adoptive Moms do not have to worry about losing a referral because their case is going well, such imagining makes the wait so much harder as you invest a lot of thought into what you're missing out on as your child grows another day older without you experiencing it and raising them. So I was doing my best to continue to function, and this involved attempting to mentally detach myself so that I could prevent myself from even more pain. 

After all, isn't it human nature to try to avoid pain at all costs when we have the power to do so? It's like I have a knife in my heart already, as I love these girls and work to raise the funds to bring them home and pray for them as tears run down my cheek and soak into my pillow. Why twist that knife by imagining intricate details of who they are? What good is that? 

Well, because they're worth it. That's why. And there is good in it, I now see.

Even though there is that risk of losing our referral for C, E, or even both... I'm not going to force myself to redirect my thoughts of them anymore. I'm going all in and fully accepting them as my own in my mind (I already have in my heart months before I even saw their faces). And in fully accepting them as my own means I am granted the right to- and joy of- thinking and wondering what they are like. I'm no longer going to tiptoe away from the moments when I long to imagine what they are like in more detail. Details like their physical features and how they talk and laugh and dance and run... their God-given talents, personalities, and quirks. And if I am setting myself up for deeper heartbreak, then so be it. I thought I was doing the best thing by not "going there." What a humbling realization to discover I was doing the best thing- for my self. I now see that yes it makes an already painful journey potentially even more hurtful; but there is joy to be found and hope to be restored as I go ahead and let them into my thoughts as often as God has been trying to place them in there.

After all, I've allowed the worrisome thoughts without hesitation. Thoughts like: Did they eat today? Are they well or sick? If they are sick, are they being comforted and receiving medication as they fight the infection? Are they being loved? Do they even know what it's like to be loved, accepted... wanted? Where do they sleep? What do their daily lives consist of? Notice, I often have thoughts all about their needs. Things that bring me more worry than joy. So why not allow the thoughts that can bring joy and a hope that they will soon become reality? Thoughts like, what it will be like to see a smile spread across their faces, or to hear their little giggles and big belly laughs for the first time. Thoughts about holding them close and feeling their heads on my chest. Thoughts about seeing Brielle play with them and help me with everyday tasks such as getting them bathed, dressed, and feeding them. I know she's going to be a little mommy to them. May I use every single C and E focused moment as an opportunity to pray for them and fall even deeper in love than I already am, instead of letting the worrisome thoughts rob me of joy. Actually, my prayer is that I focus on the good of who they are and how God has created them instead of letting worry run rampant in my brain. Indeed, there is joy that can be found in even the most painful journeys. I'm ready to find more joy in my girls as I anticipate the details of what they are like and who they will become instead of worrying about whether or not this 2 year long journey to them will ever end. Besides, I know the One who knows the future; He is the very One that is with them tonight, and He knows the plans He has for them. I long for it to be His will to bring them into our home soon, but ultimately more than that I want to see His will be done in their lives.

So again, tonight, I thank God for yet again using Brielle to open my eyes to something I probably would have never realized on my own... just as she did two years ago when she envisioned two. Brielle, thank you for teaching me to go ALL IN. Your heart is so amazing and beautiful, my love. You continue to teach your Mommy a thing or two about how to love big and how to love well.

So what happened with Brielle in the bedroom? She asked me, "How do I stop crying and missing them?" I told her to just pray and know that God is with them, and that I fully believe He will bring us together. Then I prayed over her, thanking God for her heart for her little sisters she hasn't yet met. I prayed for faster adoption processes and thanked Him that even though we can't yet beyond imagination, HE can see and feel and hear them. After "amen," she asked to see their pictures. I grab my phone, handed it to her, and watched my brown eyed girl stare at her two brown eyed sisters. We talked about them, and instead of feeling sorrow I felt like a huge burden had been lifted off of me. We felt joy. That ever-familiar smile came back on Brielle's face and she giggled as she allowed her mind to go back to imagining what they are like. And this time, I imagined with her without hesitancy.

My Father, Your will be done. In every situation in my life, I want Your will fulfilled, not my own. Conform my will to match Yours. Thank You for Brielle, C, and E. Thank You for the specific plans You have for their lives, and my role in those plans. Thank You for joy when it seems impossible and peace of mind when the enemy wants us to choose to worry instead. I trust You, I trust You, I trust You. And I love You more than life. You ARE my life! Thank You. In Your Son Jesus Christ's precious Name I am even able to pray, Amen.