Time to Think

I mentioned that the adoption has been slowing down, and I think it's going to be that way for a while now.  Even so, I sometimes get this mental picture and thought process that goes through my head.  It's the "Are we REALLY doing this?" one.  We've talked and planned for this, but in less than a year, we're going to be that family.  The conspicuous one, the one where people ask weird/rude/personal questions and I have to decide how to respond that will be best for my children.  The family that will deal with questions about China, and why God put our daughter in this family instead of her biological one, and attachment, and so many other things.  It'll be a wonderful adventure, but it'll be hard. 

The mental picture that often accompanies this is a wave, pushing me towards a cliff.  Despite all the probable delays, we are inexorably moving towards what feels like a precipice--it feels bigger than getting married, or even having biological kids, or moving, or whatever life changes I've experienced.  This is our life now, and after the adoption our life will be completely different.  And there is no going back. 

This is not cold feet.  I'm not having second thoughts about the adoption.  I've absolutely confident that this is the time and the plan that God has give us, and we're walking down His path right now.  But still, it's a little crazy.  I try to remember two things when this picture comes to mind.

1.  The inexorable wave bearing down on me is not the adoption, but life.  The adoption is a big event that will change our lives, one that we've invited and pursued.  But every day brings possible changes--I'm not one to dwell on the bad things that would change our life, but I could wake up to a totally new life without David or the kids or my family or my health or something else completely.

2.  There is only this certainty:  We throw ourselves on the mercy of God every day.  Whether we'd chosen another biological child, or a newborn domestic adoption, or nothing more, He guides our path.  That is how I get up out of bed and move forward, despite the enormous realm of possibilities that could occur.  I'm certainly not drowning in that wave, or falling down that cliff.  I'm running towards it, and I'm going to leap off and fly, carried to a glorious end, guided by the only One who surely can.