The weight of the wait

We're in a season of waiting.

You'd think that after doing this four times now, I'd be good at the waiting. That's the funny thing about adoption, though. It doesn't get easier. Having part of your heart halfway around the world just sucks. 

So, here we are. Waiting. AGAIN.

Waiting for paperwork to come back from Washington D.C. so it can go to China.

Waiting for grants.

Waiting for our girl.

Waiting for the sun then 

Waiting for the rain

Waiting for the night then 

Waiting for the day

Waiting for a holiday so we can get away

Waiting to come home, at home we never want to stay

Waiting for love, waiting for love

Waiting for love, waiting for love

Waiting for me, the sun got the stars

Cause for you, waiting is a drug. 

-K'NAAN

I think about these words a lot when I get restless, finding myself in the tension of what's done and what's to come. Never finding contentment. Never finding peace. Never finding rest. 

It's easier to wait when things are busy, but I find myself now in a lull. There's not much fundraising to do. Our dossier is complete. The grants are all mailed. So I find myself restless in the lack of busy-ness.

I thrive on busy-ness. I get stuff done. 

My inclination is always to fight, push or pull progress along, but for now my part is done. I know it's not rational, but when I'm not busy it feels like we're not getting closer. It's hard to hand the control
over to government, to social workers, to GOD.

I've done this four times now and I have gotten better at trusting God for his provision, but it's clear I have so much to learn still, so much progress still to make.

So I sit here in the tension, of what's done and what's to come. Letting go of the control and holding on to the dream of my baby girl.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Looking for Him in the silence.

Praying for peace.

Be still and know that I am God. 

Psalm 37:10