When we first entertained the idea of adopting S&A, we thought S was 11 and A was 12. Then we heard she was 14 and he was 16. Then we heard no, maybe she's 13. And then last week we find out that her official birth certificate records her age at 15 years 9 months.
I cannot stop thinking about all the years we have lost with them. Years of memories. Years of vacations, report cards, birthdays, holidays, milestones. Yesterday Eva lost another tooth, and I couldn't help but wonder what it was like for S&A when they lost a tooth. Was it exciting like it is for my kids? Did anyone notice? Did they throw the tooth away or save it? I'm pretty sure there were no tooth fairy visits for them. That makes me sad. I'm sad that we missed out on that.
There are so many things we've missed. What were they like as babies? When did they learn to crawl, and who held their fingers as they took those first tentative steps? What games did they like to play as toddlers? Who took care of them, nurtured them, cheered them on, celebrated their successes and kissed their boo-boos?
I never in my wildest dreams thought we'd adopt a 16 and a 17 year old. I mean come on, that is crazy. Most people apply for babies and toddlers for this very reason --- all the years of nurturing and bonding stretch before you after the homecoming. It might be hard at first for them to attach to you, but you have years to work that out. I get that, and honestly, there are days that I want that too. I'm jealous when I see pictures of adoptive families with little ones, or even older ones - 6, 7, 8 years old. Our kids' parents died when they were that age, and they moved into the orphanage shortly thereafter. Some days I wish we could've come sooner, would've known sooner, had the chance to intercept their lives at that point instead of seven years later.
But that is my plan. And God had other plans. And sometimes God doesn't do what we think He should do.
A wise friend told Andy the other day, "With adoption, remember it's about the child. It's not about what's best for you. What's best for them is loving them and giving them the opportunity for family."
Adoption is not about me, and what I want, what I think is best. For reasons only known to Him, God has made it clear that this is the path He chose for our family. This is what He thinks is best for us, and best for S&A. The connections and confirmations in those early days are too numerous and too coincidental to suggest anything else. I'm sad now, and know I need to let myself go through the mourning process. But at some point I need to pick myself up and move forward, in confidence, stepping into the obedience God has asked of us.
And the fact remains that whether these children are 6 or 16, they need a family. They deserve to belong to someone. To have five people who will always be there, always cheer for them, always celebrate their birthday, always comfort them when they're hurt. And they'll always be our kids -- even when they're 40 and we're 60. They'll always come home to us, to celebrate holidays, to bring the grandkids, to spend time with brothers and sisters. They'll always be ours.
The prayer I've been praying lately is, "Restore the years the locusts have eaten, God." The book of Joel in the Bible describes a terrible famine in the land of Judah, a result of a plague of locusts that devoured the crops. Bible scholars are not sure if this is referring to actual locusts or if its symbolic imagery referring to an invading army. Regardless, the people are devastated and broken, left with nothing, in despair. The language is very strong -- "How the cattle moan! Even the flocks of sheep are suffering" (1:18), "the priests are in mourning," (1:9), "the fields are ruined" (1:10), "the joy of mankind has withered away" (1:12).
But then later Joel begins prophesying about Judah's future: "The Lord will be jealous for His land and take pity on His people. He sends you abundant autumn and spring rains, as before. The threshing floors will be filled with grain; the vats will overflow with new wine and oil.
I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten .... and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you." (Joel 2:23, 25, 26)
The Lord is jealous for these kids. He sees two children who have no other family to take care of them. Who are months away from aging out of the orphanage and being forced to make a life for themselves on the streets -- most likely turning to crime or prostitution. God is jealous for them. God sets the lonely in families. God has marked them out for the Thompson family. We have lost so many years with them, but I'm praying that God will make up for it, in the way that only God can.
Adoption is all about the child, but it's also all about God and the story He is writing, not just for the Thompsons, but for His entire family on earth. He is jealous for all of us. God also operates outside of our concept of space and time. "With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." 2 Peter 3:8-9 I've been so focused on the days we've missed out on that I am forgetting the very truth of God.
Days don't matter to him. People do. He is waiting for us. He will not return until He's given everyone a chance to belong. He is jealous for us. He desperately wants us in His family. He pursues each one of us with abandon. He fights for us. Our past doesn't matter - what matters is the present - saying yes to Him now. And as soon as we do, He promises to restore every moment we were apart from Him. To heal and redeem and pay us back for the years we lost. And He has eternity to do it.
I'm sad today, but I'm trusting. I'm remembering promises. And I'm looking forward to that day when they will belong to us, and we to them. That will be a day for rejoicing. The day when we praise God for what He's done, and look forward with anticipation to all that He is going to do.
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