A Quiet Place

Long silences are a special king of torture to me, which compels me to apologize for the lack of blogs and updates recently regarding our adoption. I haven't written about it in a few weeks.

For a while after the last blog post, we were mostly just checking adoption boxes: filling out forms, getting check-ups - I don't have TB, Yay! - verifying our employment, learning more Spanish. We both took extensive personality tests and had vials of blood drawn. You know, the fun stuff. I almost wrote a blog about how there wasn't much for me to blog about. Everything was going just fine, but it was all paperwork. Routine. I was thankful that it was mundane . . . quiet.

And then it wasn't.

Chad received a call from our caseworker last Tuesday. She explained that we are the farthest along in the home study process for Latin America among couples open to sibling groups. Therefore, before a sibling group moves into urgent advocacy, meaning the last plea for adoption before they are split up, we are allowed to review their files. If so led, we would be able to write a letter of intent for them before our home study finishes. This would expedite the process overall, and if we moved forward, we would probably find ourselves South America bound by August.
She presented Chad with information about a group of siblings. Four siblings. From Brazil.
You read that correctly - four kids. You read that other part correctly, too. These four are not from Colombia. They live in Brazil.
They don't speak Spanish in Brazil.
Also, FOUR.

Chad told me about this conversation over dinner on Tuesday night. He had already looked over their files. There were pictures. I didn't want to see them. I wanted to make this decision based on God's leading and not on an emotional connection to a sweet face in a picture. Throughout the day on Wednesday we prayed A LOT. And we talked A LOT - to each other, to our kids, to our friends and family. We asked for prayer from a number of people (thank you!). We even spoke with a mom who adopted four all at once from Colombia just eight months ago. She had gone through Lifeline and shared great insights with us.

It got very loud - in my head, in my heart, in my gut. A noisy din barreled around my stomach for almost three days.
Wednesday night I asked Chad if I could see their pictures. They are adorable. One looks like a brown version of Brenty. They have the same dimple.
All I wanted was to be obedient. I would rather be tired, overwhelmed and poor within God's will than wealthy, rested, and coasting along outside of it.
I told Chad, who never put any pressure on me despite the fact that he was ready to hop on a plane to Brazil already, that I was open to pursuing them. "Why?" you may ask. Because I couldn't give him or anyone else a "why not."

Isn't this why we are adopting in the first place?
Isn't this the point?
Orphans need care and homes and love. God has called us to provide that for a group of siblings. Why not these four?
I don't have a reasonable answer for that. And I may never have one.

By Thursday evening, the din in my stomach was loud.
But my world was quiet where it counts. In fact, it was silent.

Here's something you may or may not know about me: in the 'what should I do' department, Jesus is loud and clear when he answers me. He has always been that way. If I have a big decision, especially when what I want to do conflicts with what I know I should do, He speaks through a megaphone. I can recall many moments in prayer - about who to date, where to go, what to (not) say - when, as soon as I closed my eyes, before the words could leave my lips, He heart-yelled an answer straight into my soul. Loud and clear. Yes or no. Now or never. He left no doubt. When there is an important decision in our marriage or family, I half-jokingly tell Chad, "Jesus tells me first." Because He does.

Not this time.
I poured out prayers. I begged for a sign or an answer or a feeling or SOMETHING. Lord, just tell me what to do!

Silence. It felt like silence.
He was there. But He wasn't talking.

Without going into every little detail, after three days of praying and talking and wrenching our guts, we said no. Chad called our caseworker on Friday morning and told her we would not pursue the Brazilian o quarteto (as Chad calls them).
And as soon as he had called her, my clinching gut-din stopped twisting. I could breathe again. I had peace.
That had been a miserable three days.

My dad, whom I treasure and love dearly, is pretty much a mass of walking Biblical wisdom. I am so grateful for him. I'm grateful for my mother too. They are so supportive and encouraging. And, although they never tried to sway us toward or away from the quarteto, my dad offered a perspective that I needed to hear. On Thursday night, I was complaining about how Jesus wouldn't come out and just tell me what to do. Dad recounted Christ's prayerful agony in the garden just before His arrest. Jesus begs His father for help, for rescue, for insight.
He receives silence.
--Please don't think I am comparing myself to Christ. Rather I am hoping to imitate Him as we move forward.--
But afterward, immediately AFTER the silence, He is resolved. He goes boldly and intentionally, not with regret or trepidation, to His friends and wakes them up. Then he goes deliberately to where the soldiers and Judas are waiting. The silence doesn't paralyze Him or cause Him to react in fear.
His calling is clear. He moves toward it.

So that is what we will do now. The woman we spoke to about adopting four at once said something that really stuck with both of us. Once you know who your kids are, you run to them. You go as fast and as hard as you can to get to them and bring them home.
And that is exactly what we plan to do.

If all goes well, we will wrap up our home study by the end of this month. Then we can be matched and apply for immigration. I still think our kids will be home before Christmas. But only God knows exactly what that process (and our children) will look like.

Please continue to pray with and for us in all adoption-related matters. God is providing miraculously in regards to support, funding, and community.

Please share this blog post with anyone who would join us in prayer or might want to donate to our adoption fund.

Here are the links to our online fundraising page and my Etsy shop, which are the two main ways we are currently raising money. As a teacher and a mom, I need to survive May before undertaking any other intensive fundraising endeavors.

You can also click on one of the images below to purchase an 8x10 art print.

Thank you for reading and sharing our journey.

Hugs,
Christa