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I was running late. I know, shocking. Not only was I late, but I was wrong. Wrong and late.

It was a Friday afternoon, and until I got a call from the birthday girl’s mom asking what time I was bringing Riley, I’d been under the blissful assumption that I had 24 hours until I had to drive her across the county to the party. Now I had to drive half-an-hour east back home, wait in the driveway with the 3 younger kids while Ri ran in and packed, then drive an hour in the other direction…in an hour. Yeah, I’m pretty good at pulling off the bizarre and impossible, but I have yet to actually stop time.

So, there I was, driving down a highway I rarely drive anymore, trying to focus and think peaceful thoughts so as to avoid having a nervous breakdown. I was doing my best to tune out The Narrator and The Soundtrack, who had both been informed that Mommy was hanging on by a thread.

I wish I could say I always remember to pray in situations like these–to look to my heavenly Father for peace and strength—but the truth is, I’m really lousy at it most of the time. But on this occasion, I must have said something like, “Dear Lord, please let the traffic be light, and please help me calm down and make it there safely.”

And then God said, “I want you to adopt.”

I think I countered with something like, “Are you NUTS?  Me?!  I’m 13 loads behind on laundry, haven’t been in for a haircut in 8 months, and—I don’t know if you’ve noticed—but I sorta have a reputation for being a complete neurotic. No, I’m not the gal for this job.”

Now, when I say that I have learned that when God is silent, it’s best to be quiet and listen some more, I mean that academically I realize this…but I haven’t necessarily put it into practice. No, I tend to fill the silence with more arguing and deal making.

“I’ll totally raise money for Reece’s Rainbow, and I’ll promote them, advocate—all that stuff. But I have 4 kids of my own. And a couple of them count for at least double credit.”

I hadn’t driven down that road in a matter of many months. I was nearing the Lake Lewisville Bridge, (aka–the “if there’s going to be a wreck on this road, this is where it’s going to happen” bridge), which always makes me a little nervous and more attentive to the traffic around me. But still, I glanced to the side of the road toward the Town Hall, which also serves as the local animal shelter. There was a sign out front—one of those signs with the magnetic letters so the message can be changed depending on local events—that read, “ADOPT NOW.”

I said, “Okay.” It wasn’t like I consciously changed my mind, or gave in, or figured I’d better stop arguing. Just something inside me realigned, and I was suddenly perfectly okay with the idea—excited even.

Now, when The Hubby and I were first married, I promised I’d never let him get bored. If he were allowed the opportunity to travel back in time and change just one thing, I’m pretty sure he’d go back to that day and slap a piece of duct tape over my mouth before I could get the words out of my mouth. Turns out, the hubby has nothing against boredom. He actually thrives on it. Or at least he thinks he would if I ever actually let him experience the phenomenon. But just when he’s starting to feel like things are going nice and calmly, I come up with some great idea. Nothing makes The Hubby blanch faster than the words, “I have a great idea!”

I didn’t want this to be another of those times. I really didn’t want him to see this as some harebrained scheme I was dragging him into. So I prayed, “Okay, God. I’m in. But I don’t want to railroad The Hubby into this. If this is really something You want us to do, would You please have this conversation with him Yourself? Would You please give him his own sign?”

And then some chaos ensued, which is pretty standard for a-day-in-the-life around here.

That evening, we went to dinner at a local restaurant that was hosting a fundraiser for Mason’s school. All through dinner, I wanted to tell Gus about my “sign.” But Mason was being…well, Mason. He was sticking his fingers through the holes in the metalwork table, then yelling “OW!” As soon as we’d extricate his piggies, danged if he didn’t do it again. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was pointing toward the inflatable bounce house set up on the restaurant lawn and yelling “Play! Play! Dad, Dad, Play!”  I tried to take advantage of a rare lull in the chaos, but I only got as far as, “Hey, guess–” before Mason tried to swipe a bowl of salsa off the tray of a passing waitress. So I resigned myself to waiting until after the kids were in bed.

But on the way home, I just couldn’t supress the urge to tell him. And then something really strange happened—all the kids got really quiet. I turned in my seat to make sure we hadn’t forgotten them in the parking lot. Nope, they were there, content and calm.

I thought maybe I’d bring the subject up…so I told The Hubby my whole story. Not the part about being late for the party, just starting at the conversation with God, and finishing with the sign.

We were stopped at an intersection when I finished my story. The Hubby didn’t have his “wow–that’s incredible–sign me up!” face on. He had more of a “Lord, help me–my wife’s a crazy person” face. He opened his mouth to speak, started to look over at me, and then froze with his mouth still half open. After a couple of seconds, he said: “All I kept thinking the whole time you were talking was, we can’t afford adoption.” He didn’t say anything more, just pointed to the side of the road, where a billboard proclaimed, “Who says you can’t afford it?”

I just love it when God gets all literal on me.

Needless to say, the whole thing went way easier than I’d expected it to. I mean, I’d anticipated it taking weeks of working on him, and God had the matter all wrapped up in a matter of hours. God so rocks. But The Hubby still had one concern. We’d looked at the Reece’s Rainbow Down syndrome Adoption Ministry site before, and he remembered how many orphans there were. “How are we going to pick just one?” he asked. “Well,” I answered, “I figure if God was good enough to put up billboards for us, He’ll speak just as clearly on this.”

I wasn’t so sure about that a little later, when I’d been poring over the pictures on the Reece’s Rainbow site for a couple of hours. All these children needed families. The Hubby was right: how would we pick just one and leave all the others? I was set to start loooking at them all again from the beginning when I noticed a page I hadn’t clicked before. I clicked it, then clicked another button, and suddenly this pensive little face with low, chubby cheeks and deep brown eyes was looking up at me. I burst into tears–literally—immediately and uncontrollably. I sat sobbing, knowing this was my daughter, sitting in an orphanage in Russia, wondering why I was taking so long to come and find her.

The rest of the story is a little convoluted, and is still, quite frankly, being written I guess. Shortly after we contacted RR about adopting her, we received word that a Russian family had filed for adoption. This concerned us, because adoption is virtually unheard of in Russia, and of the few families who do adopt, 75% of them return the child to the orphanage as soon as they receive their government incentive money. This sweet little angel turns 4 in July of 2010, and at that time she will be transferred from the orphanage to a mental institution (which makes One Flew Over The Cukoo’s Nest look like Club Med), where most children with Down syndrome die within a year of neglect and abuse. If the Russian family were to adopt her, then return her—well, we had a hard time thinking of that scenario.

Right now, we’re waiting. Waiting for word on whether the Russian family is proceeding with adoption. Waiting for word on whether her relatives have signed the refusal letters allowing her to be adopted. Waiting on God to reveal His plan.

And while we wait, we have to proceed as if we’re not waiting, but as if we are going forward with all the urgency the situation requires. Once we find out she has become available for us, we will need to move quickly to rescue her from a tragic fate. And in the event that the Russian family does adopt her, we need to be able to commit to another of the almost 200 waiting orphans with Down syndrome without delay.

We must raise close to $25,000 in order to bring our child home. We have about $3,000 of that amount from a couple of small fundraisers we have held. It’s a drop in the bucket, but we know it’s all loaves and fishes in God’s hands. Our November fundaiser, The Ultimate Sleepover, was a blast! We are planning another event, a Karaoke Challenge, in the spring—most likely in March. For updates, subscribe to this blog, and you won’t miss a thing!

THE UPDATE THAT ISN’T, January 26, 2010

Still no news. We’re still waiting on J’s relatives to sign the paperwork that will allow her to be adopted. It’s sort of an unusual scenario, I guess—virtually all of the children in the orphanages have already been released for adoption.

We have received word that the Russian family that wanted to adopt her may have backed out because of the delay. On the one hand, I think—Wow, if we had given up on her as soon as we found out about the other family, she would be unspoken for right now.  And I also think—Wow, that family could very well have been one of the 75% of Russian adoptive families who are only in it for the financial incentives offered by the government, who throw the children right back in the orphanages as soon as they get their checks.

So…we’re still waiting.

A local event venue—a very nice venue, I might add—has offered to let us use their facilities FOR FREE for our fundraiser!!!  From what they’re saying, all we’ll have to pay is catering, DJ, and insurance; they’re providing the banquet room and the staff.  It’s amazing, because I almost didn’t contact this place. My email said something along the lines of “This is what our fundraiser is about, and your facility is so lovely that I’m sure it’s way out of our price range, which is about $0, but I thought I’d ask.” 

Also, we’ve found a social worker to do our homestudy, so we’ll be scheduling that for the next couple of weeks.

Emotionally, I waver between being this paragon of faith that God has it all under control, and this waffling, wavering wimp who is having definite control issues. I feel very strongly that God led us directly to little J, and we’re not going to be discouraged by a little waiting. But never in my life has July felt so close to January. And in the meantime, children are aging out and being sent to the institutions. And I can’t save them, because saving them means abandoning her. It’s hard to explain, but this little brown-eyed girl is the child of my heart, and I can’t give up on her now. Not until and unless God makes it clear that His will lies elsewhere.

So I wait.