And yet in every adoption story, there are also spectators, those in the crowd watching and cheering you on and waiting for you when you get off the ride (whenever that is - haha!). These are the friends and family who aren't on the ride with you, but were there with you before you got on, and will be there when you get off. They can't totally relate to your stories; they can't understand all the twists and turns you've encountered, but they want to. They try to. And they are awesome.
One of the many incredible blessings from this whole experience has been inviting so many others into this story, and watching as God used each one in unique ways to encourage our family on our ride. I keep thinking about the quote, "It takes a village to raise a child." I googled it the other day because I was curious about where it came from. No one actually knows where the saying originated, but it is believed to be an old African proverb.
We have a village. We have people who have reached out and said, "We are here for you in this. You're not alone." I remember a post written by Jen Hatmaker shortly after she came home with her two children from Ethiopia. It was entitled, "How to be the Village," and I recall thinking, "Wow, she is so lucky to have that many people cheering her on, helping her, loving her family through this time." And now it's our time, and God has shown me, "Look how lucky you are to have that many people cheering for you, helping you, and loving your family through this time." So I want to take a little time to share what our village looks like.
The village looks like a friend who texts me every day for 5 days straight and doesn't expect a reply, because she knows how crazy busy my life is. She just wants to let me know she's praying for me.
It looks like the friend who called me in May of 2014 and told me she wanted to start praying with me once a week, and then called me every Monday morning this whole past year to pray together.
It looks like other adoptive mamas who have reached out and said, "Been there, done that, how can I be there for you?"
The village looks like the friend who told me she has never had a friend go through an adoption before, so she has no idea how to support me. But she really wants to, so please tell her how to do that.
The village looks like the friend who went shopping all day with me to find clothes for my kids, who searched for sizes for me and helped me figure out if they would fit. And then bought me lunch.
It looks like the friends who started this journey with us, same agency, same paperwork, and then moved across the country, but who check in with us a couple times a week to tell us they're still in our village.
The village looks like any person who has been on the other end of the phone when I've been sobbing and sad and there's really no words to comfort. But she listened and encouraged and prayed.
The village looks like my mom who dropped everything for two weeks out of the year to come down and live at my house to take care of the kids while we flew to Ethiopia. She lived in our house when we had no kitchen and the ceiling was being torn out. And she cooked and cleaned and made sure the kids made it to all their kid stuff.
It looks like the friend who wrote a letter to S&A explaining what it would be like to be in our family, and his friendship with their dad and how it has impacted his life.
It looks like neighbors who bring over cakes and other little goodies.
The village looks like adoptive families I've only met online but feel like close friends, because adoption forms such incredibly close bonds.
The village looks like a group of friends I met online 11 years ago (when I was pregnant with Sophia) who pooled their money to purchase a gift card for our family of an extravagant amount. Overwhelmed.
It looks like friends who show up at the airport when you come home, wildly waving signs and cheering, and you feel like a rock star even after 17 hours of being cooped up on a plane.
It looks like the friends in Ethiopia who took time off work to spend time with your kids before they have to leave their country forever, and who continue to call them now to encourage them during these hard days of transition.
It looks like the MANY friends who have invited our younger kids over for playdates.
The village looks like a busy adoptive mom who invited our family into her home during a crazy time in her life and sat on the couch with us for hours to share her experiences and wisdom.
It looks like the friend who I just met, and days later I ask her to drive two hours to the airport to take pictures of our homecoming, and she does, and she gifts us with the most amazing photos of one of the most special events in our lives.
It looks like friends who cook meals for seven people and understand when we ask for them not to bring it to our house, because the constant visitors are so overwhelming right now.
The village looks like thousands of prayers offered on your behalf, some by people you barely know.
The village looks like the sweet, young mama of four littles who texted me the other day and said, "We are all sick but I signed up to bring you a meal. Can I just have pizza delivered to your house instead?" And it's absolutely perfect because it's Mother's Day that day and we wanted to stay home and watch a movie that night.
It looks like little gifts brought over by people who have heard your story and thought about your family in a tangible way - a clock, a homemade picture frame, a wall hanging with a meaningful Bible verse, a bracelet, a Carry 117 bag, and many others.
The village looks like two adoptive mamas I've never met in real life (one in NC and one in MD) but who spent over two hours on the phone with me to share stories and answer my millions of questions about adopting teenagers.
The village looks like the friend who is running to the grocery store and asks if you need anything, and you really need potatoes and peanut butter, and she buys them and drops them off at your house.
It looks like extended family who supported our journey from the first conversation, where we were afraid they would all think we were crazy, but who have opened their hearts to accept S&A as their own.
The village looks like our friend who offered to pick up injera on his way home from work, and his wife who delivered it the next day so that we could eat it fresh.
It looks like my friend who has walked this adoption road and is just a few months ahead of me, and she picks up the phone when I call her crying, and knows just what to say.
We don't deserve this village, we really don't. But every day I praise God for my village. I'm overwhelmed by the generosity and the selflessness of this village. And I pray that I can be the village to someone else when the opportunity comes along.
We all have that opportunity, every day, to be the village to someone. Who are your people? What are they going through? How can you reach out and love on them today?
