I went to court for the first time in my life yesterday. And it about did me in.
It was family court. Rich and I sat outside the court room for too long waiting for our new baby's case to be called. The waiting space, it can't be called a room because it was hardly more than an extra wide hall, was filled with people. Parents. Lawyers. Social Workers. Multiple times during that wait I had to swallow away tears due to the conversations I overheard. Because children's lives aren't meant to be decided on linoleum floored courthouse hallways or lived out in five inch rubber banded manila file folders.
Our new baby came home on July 31, 2013. In the middle of his first night he went into respiratory distress due to a mucus plug blocking his tracheotomy tube. God used our hands to provide emergency care and preserved his life. Today we celebrate 100 days with him in our family and I celebrate by sharing a bit of our story.
Submitted by kim on Thu, 09/19/2013 - 10:03 in Adoption
We were lying side by side on the floor in the empty bedroom when Rich whispered, “I want to submit our home study for the baby.”
The entire week of June belonged to us. Drummer was at Boy Scout camp. Dune Buggy was in Colorado with his youth group. College Dude was working at his internship in the city. Grandpa was visiting other family. A week we planned to go out to dinner nightly. To go to movies. To take long walks and leisure picnics. To celebrate life just the two of us alone.
But night after night we found ourselves in the sparse bedroom. The room we had cleared for a new child. There were decisions to make. Would we foster only? Or adopt only? Or did we want this life of quiet together to come sooner rather than later?
In route to Arkansas last weekend to visit our daughter and her husband, one particular turn along highway 67 south caught my attention. I saw the first sign at least a half mile from the curve: large yellow rectangles on both sides of the road warning a sharp left bend. CAUTION. Blinking lights. Danger Ahead.
A quarter mile down the road, another equally alarming yellow sign declared a new suggested speed - half of what we had been traveling just minutes before.
Immediately I thought,"My life should have signs like these." Signs that signal my path is taking an abrupt turn ahead. They need to be big unavoidable declarations in neon yellow with flashing red lights announcing something huge is coming up.
The Facebook message from my friend, Beth, caught me off guard.
She wrote, “Do you remember that my mom is an adoption worker? She has a very special little girl that needs to be adopted. I have no idea if adoption is in the realm of possibilities for you guys, but when Mom talked about the ideal family for this little girl and asked if I could think of anyone at church that might be interested in adopting, God brought you to mind. Mom was in such agreement that you guys could be a great fit that I had to let you know. If interested, contact my mom.”
I read the message aloud to Rich. “Have we met Beth’s mom?” I asked him. “Did you know she was an adoption worker?”