A Dry Patch . . .

So, Saturday marks eleven weeks from when I last saw JP.  I held him in my lap to take a smiling picture.  I rocked him while he said "Mayi", and when I realized he was not calling me "Mama" but begging for water, watched him gulp mine quickly. I heard him repeat the abc's to me, in his signature whisper when speaking to an adult. And I stared into his eyes as he offered my pen back to me, asking me to show him how to hold it to write again.  Next Friday will be three months--the time when the US Embassy said they may be ready to let us know the investigation is complete.

I am beyond ready to have him home.  I know everyone who has walked this journey with us is ready to meet him, too.  Unfortunately, we may have to wait a bit longer.  Earlier today we learned that the Congolese government is halting adoptions to investigate one they feel may have run contrary to Congolese law.  They do not plan to issue any exit letters until the investigation is complete. Given the nature of schedules and timelines in the DRC, we do not know how long that could take.

Part of me wants to scream from the top of my lungs. Part of me wants to get really angry at whoever messed up and slowed down this process for these waiting children.  Part of me wants to call someone (who knows who that would be at this point) and say, "Are you kidding? There is a little boy who was abandoned that is sitting in an orphanage, and we told him we would come back for him!"

But, there is another part of me that is just empty. That part is emotionally tired and wrung out and just, honestly, pretty faithless. 

And, I know we put ourselves in this arena--unlike some friends who have fought long journeys with the loss of a loved one or illness who never "signed" up for it.  And I know we have not waited as long as many other families who have gone the course of infertility and adoption and endless waiting.

But, we all have seasons where we just run dry.

On this day of frustration and overwhelm, I am hopeful at the news of my sweetest friend who just learned she no longer has cancer--a testament of God's goodness--and I am reminded of the message at our church's women's conference a few years ago, where our pastor's wife, Lauren Chandler, spoke from Psalms 107:

Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,
for his steadfast love endures forever!
Let the redeemed of the Lord say so,
whom he has redeemed from trouble.
and gathered in from the lands,
from the east and from the west,
from the north and from the south.

Some wandered in desert wastes,
finding no way to a city to dwell in;
hungry and thirsty,
their soul fainted within them.
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
and he delivered them from their distress.
He led them by a straight way
till they reached a city to dwell in.
Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,
for his wondrous works to the children of man!
For he satisfies the long soul,
and the hungry soul he fills with good things.


May the Lord "wring the worship from us" in this season where we are utterly and completely out of control.  May the Lord protect JP's mind, body and spirit as he waits.  He is good and He does good in all things!