Monday, November 23, 2015

We are not part of his story and he is not part of ours

"Write drunk; edit sober" -Ernest Hemingway

I've never actually attempted this, but tonight I am.
I've had my wine and if you know me at all it doesn't take much to get my lightheaded & giggly. I'm truly not a Windau (my maiden name) when it comes to my alcohol consumption. I put my catholic roots to shame.
I'm ok with that.
I'm not a mean drunk, but a purely giggly & say inappropriate thing drunk.

Today stung.
It stung hard.
Last Tuesday we got a call for a little 5 month old baby. Technically we got a call for 4 boys but for reasons that I will not share, we could only say yes to little guy.
And then there was waiting. And more waiting because our agency couldn't find a home for 4 of the little guys, they came from a sibling group of 6.
All 6. Boys. That would be headed for permanent custody.
In my mind all the things lined up.
I had prayed for an orphan.
I had been learning about how to bond with a baby in the adoption sense.

Over the weekend I felt more at ease, knowing that we would receive no word over the weekend.
Then this morning came.
I woke up knowing. Knowing today could turn my life upside down or crush me.

It crushed me.
I was at a friends house when I received the call.
I knew in her voice when she started talking I was going to hear those dreadful words
"The county placed him with another family"
I knew in my heart he was mine. I had been falling for him. I had been praying like crazy for him, praying for his parents, praying for his siblings.
Right after I got off the phone, she came and prayed for me.
She wanted to say the words that would heal my breaking heart, but she nor anyone else has those words.
It didn't happen.
And it hurts.
It hurts because I believed God ordained this.
This was going to happen.
But it didn't.
And I'm mad.
I'm mad we weren't chosen, I'm mad that I will miss his first birthday and his first steps and his first day of school.

But I'm thankful. I'm thankful I serve a God who has a bigger plan than what I can see.
Right now I hurt, but another day I won't.
Another day I love another.
And for him or her or them I want to be ready.
As ready as any waiting foster/adoptive parent can be.

We are not part of his story & he is no part of ours.

For today I allowed myself to grieve. I ate pasta & drank wine & ate ice cream.
Tomorrow is a new day.


Wrote drunk; not editing.
Goodnight.
New mercies in the morning.

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