Wednesday, July 8, 2015

in this valley

Kids were supposed to be home from DRC with their adoptive families by now.

Since April, we have been hearing that kids would be home "soon." For the last month, we have been hearing that things would move "next week." Two weeks ago, we heard that Vice Prime Minister Boshab in DRC would be signing off on paperwork for around 120 children to come home (although there was never a set plan in place regarding the actual issuance of Exit Letters). We were told he would sign them late last week and provide info to Embassies regarding which families were approved. We were told that the commission had a goal of approving 50 files each week until all kids in the pipeline were home. This plan would have gotten all kids home by the very end of 2015, at the very earliest. 

We waited like ravenous dogs to get even a nugget's-worth of information from VPM Boshab through our Embassy in DRC. 

Our Embassy was closed for the holiday Friday, so we *hoped* to hear something Monday. Nothing. 

We hoped to hear something yesterday. Nothing.

We hoped to hear something today, and we did, but it was not what we hoped to hear. 

We heard that at least 13 U.S. cases were approved by the DRC Adoption Commission. Now those cases will have to have final authorization from President Kabila, which "could happen as early as next week." Then, supposedly, they can get an Exit Letter and go home to their parents.

But, then again, that may change. There might have to be another hoop to jump through, approval to receive, or fee to pay. There might be something else that needs to happen "next week."

Because it's always something else. And things are always going to happen "next week."

What we have here is a moving target. A new goal for us to hit with each week that passes. A new something extra that should get done "next week."

New paperwork submissions. New Bordeaux Letters. New signatures and approvals. Some parents even have to get new visas for their children (some for the FOURTH time in this wait). 

Meanwhile, our adopted children grow older in these days, weeks, and months without families, all while we are trying to hit several moving targets to get them home where they are safe and settled and cherished. 

My heart is sick. My body is weak. My vision is cloudy. My mind is struggling to battle through this with Truth. 

I ask Him if He sees all of this. Does He hear me and the hundreds of other parents who are crying out for help here? Does He know that we are starving for a simple morsel of good news? Does He have the power to fix this, to change hearts in DRC, to send a rescuer? Does He care? Does He understand?

Of course He does. He, as a Father, knows what it's like to be separated from the children He loves.

And I KNOW, although feelings betray me today, that God is Sovereign. He reigns. He reigns here and in DRC and everywhere in between. God is all-powerful and all-knowing. God loves C and has great plans for her. He loves us and has great plans for us, too. He is merciful. That is Truth. 

Jars of Clay sums it up pretty well here, in a song that helped carry me through the hardest days of Brody's adoption. It is now helping me remember God's faithfulness back then, and it's helping me see His continued faithfulness now: 

"The Valley Song (Sing Of Your Mercy)" --Jars of Clay


You have led me, to the sadness, I have carried this pain. 
On a back bruised, nearly broken, I'm crying out to You...

I will sing of Your Mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy.

When death, like a gypsy, comes to steal what I love, I will still look to the Heavens, I will still seek Your face. 
But I fear You aren't listening, because there are no words. 
Just the stillness, and the hunger, for a faith that assures. 

I will sing of Your Mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy. 
I will sing of Your Mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy. 

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia...

While we wait, for a rescue, with our eyes tightly shut, face to the ground, using our hands, to cover the fatal cut.
And though the pain is an ocean, tossing us, around, around, around,
You have calmed greater waters, and higher mountains have come down.

I will sing of Your Mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy...

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia...

I will sing of Your Mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy.


I am wrecked here in this valley, but I'm hopeful to be led to the rivers of joy soon.


-- "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy." Psalm 126:5 --