"We're all broken. That's how the light gets in."
~ Ernest Hemingway
White hot tears streaked down my sweat-rimmed face on that blazing July day. The weather man described it as a "three shower day," explaining that we would need to take three showers to endure the sweltering Oklahoma heat. I needed more than a simple shower. I needed to run and weep and run some more. I needed to run away, but still find my way home.
Because they were waiting. Those three little people for whom we prayed, two of whom are not so little anymore. Those little people who make me giggle and sigh and shake my head would be waiting at home. Waiting for me to kiss his boo boo, show me his latest GoPro video, take her shopping. My husband, who has bravely weathered every storm that life has tossed our way in 16 years? He would be waiting. Waiting for his turn to take a breath, to take a break.
Because here's the deal. When you invite brokenness into your home? When you say, "Yes," to God? Sometimes... well... sometimes it feels like it just might break you.
I was locked out of the house. Our little guy loves me sooooo much that he has learned how to open the door and initiate a search party of one. Matt locked it in an effort to keep Tai safe and allow me to escape. Now it just felt like one more roadblock. Lightheaded and dizzy, I knocked harder. Louder.
Matt and I verbally lashed out at each other over something trivial as he opened the door and I stumbled into our blessedly cold, dry air-conditioned home.
Home. He was home. Tai was finally home. And I was crying. Exhausted. Mentally and physically depleted, and questioning what on earth we had gotten ourselves into. Were we really equipped for this calling? Had we heard God correctly? Were we wrecking our family? Were our other kids getting enough attention?
Sleep deprivation and heat exhaustion have the uncanny ability to highjack rational thought processes.
I shouted at my husband, "I don't need you to solve a problem or fix it! I need you to tell me that it's going to be okay! That we're going to be okay. I need reassurance, not a plan." He uttered not a word, but swooped over to envelop me in his arms as I shook, sobbing with the intensity of the emotions.
We haven't slept in the same bed in almost three months, taking turns sleeping in the room with Tai. We're gradually inching our way out of the room, but it's a painstakingly long process. Our little man loves us, and particularly me, with his everything. It is such a big love that it can sometimes feel a bit suffocating. I recall a similar feeling with my bio kids during periods of extreme separation anxiety. In this case, however, his worst nightmare was realized. He is old enough to remember, but not old enough to understand. He knows that a mommy can say goodbye and not come back.
Tai sees me crying and begins to cry. If Omma is sad, he is sad. It will not be difficult to teach him empathy. I scoop up his solid, yet squishy toddler body and hug it close to mine. I kiss his chubby cheeks soft as velvet, and whisper in his ear. "Quinchana. It's okay. Omma is okay. I love you so, so much. Sarang-hae."
If you're broken, buddy, then I want to be broken with you. We'll pick up the pieces together. Isn't that what Jesus did in His ultimate act of love for us? He who was without sin took the sin of the world upon him. He allowed his body to be broken for us. With that single act, He experienced the agony of His first and only separation from God in all of eternity.
But He didn't stay broken, and there lies the beauty and hope we have in Jesus.
Quinchana. It's okay. It's going to be okay...
*I know that most of us who have adopted don't like to share this part of the process. It is messy and hard, and we don't want to deter anyone from adopting or prevent a child from having a forever family. My prayer is that by sharing our whole story (and not just the smiles and a false fairytale ending), you might come to see all that adoption entails. That you would see how God takes the messy and ugly parts and makes them beautiful. That the redemptive love of Christ is free to all who live in this broken world. In my almost 40 years on this earth, nothing has come closer to showing me God's faithfulness and unwavering love for us than adopting Tai. It is one of life's greatest privileges and honors that God trusted us enough to be his parents.
