Adoption

Kings and Queens

I’ve been stewing over my notes from September 5, 2012.  When I read through what I wrote, and click through the photos we took that day, I feel all those emotions again.  They are sharp and sad and sweet and scary.  I sob every time.  Which is why I put them away and didn’t look at them for five years.  I’m going to take a break from that story, but I do intend to come back to it.

This blog was meant to be a place to record the progress of our current adoption, so I should tell you more about that.  This picture doesn’t look like much, but it was taken October 27, and it is the record of a huge leap of faith.

When we decided to adopt the first time, we started from zero.  No knowledge of international adoption and no funds.  But I had a strange peace about it.  I kept telling Jason, I don’t want to ask anyone for money.  I have a feeling that God is going to do something really cool, and I can’t wait to see it.  So while we informed friends and family about the adoption, we were careful not to ask anyone directly to help us.

In five months, we raised $22,000.  So many people rallied around us and supported us physically, prayerfully, emotionally, and financially, that we were absolutely awestruck.  It was incredible.

When Faith International emailed Jason on October 23, he and I looked at each other for a tense moment.  Finally, I told him, “Nah.  We’re too old. And that’s a lot of money.”

But the next day, the kids and I were out walking with some friends, and Luka turned to me and said, “We could be carrying a little baby with us right now…”

It was a casual, innocent comment.  She was holding my hand and enjoying the walk.  She only said it because the thought struck her at just that moment.

But the idea stabbed me.  Suddenly, I remembered four years of very specific prayers.  Prayers that I had given up on.  I wasn’t bitter about those unanswered prayers.  I had just grown to accept that the answer was “No.” It was a selfish prayer anyway. Born mostly of a desire to prolong the season of life that involved swaddling, kissing, feeding and cuddling babies.

Mixed with the the exhilaration that I felt during Hudson’s adoption was a consuming grief over the time I missed with him as an infant.  At the risk of sounding overdramatic, it felt like I had brought home a child, but lost a baby.  Literally.  I grieved as if I had miscarried.

I had a baby.  He was mine.  I held his picture in my hand, read the well-baby reports about his growth and development, sent him care packages with Gerber Baby Puffs and a blue polka dot minky blanket.  We celebrated his first birthday with friends at a Korean restaurant, and hung his photo from a balloon in the middle of the table.  But I lost that baby.  I can’t type out how much that hurt.

I was ashamed of that grief.  While all the wonderful people who had helped us bring him home congratulated us, and celebrated with us, and smiled joyfully when they greeted us, I felt a guilty secret sorrow that I couldn’t express.

So I started praying for a baby. And my prayers were embarrassingly detailed.  I wondered if it was wrong to pray that way.  But I remembered often that my grandma once told me that God wants us to have the desires of our heart, as long as they conform to his will.

I remembered those prayers and I realized that the email from Faith International was exactly what I had asked God for.  He hadn’t said, “No.” He had just said, “Not yet.”

The babies adopted through this agency are typically between four and eight weeks old.  I would bring home an infant.  We could adopt from Japan and have another Asian child. Hudson would have a sibling that looked like him. The agency contacted us. The fact that we gave up didn’t stop God from answering.

I felt a shiver of excitement, and I took out my phone to text Jason.  What would I say?  We had already agreed to turn down the offer. An offer that had taken five years to come to us.

I typed, “Maybe we should tell the adoption agency we are interested.”

Jason’s immediate answer, “Serious?”

He told me later that he was actually disappointed when I said, “No” so quickly to the email.

I told Luka, who was still walking with me, that I had sent him the text, and she teared up.

Jason started working on the application right away.  The application fee was $300.  On the day that he finished it, we had exactly $300 to spend. Four days later, he put the application and the check in an envelope, addressed it, and took a picture of it.

He told me that just after he started the car to drive to the post office, the song “Kings and Queens” by Audio Adrenaline came on.  Here are the lyrics:

Little hands, shoeless feet, lonely eyes looking back at me

Will we leave behind the innocent too brief

On their own, on the run when their lives have only begun

These could be our daughters and our sons

And just like a drum I can hear their hearts beating

I know my God won’t let them be defeated

Every child has a dream to belong and be loved

Boys become kings, girls will be queens

Wrapped in Your majesty

When we love, when we love the least of these

Then they will be brave and free

Shout your name in victory

When we love when we love the least of these

When we love the least of these

Break our hearts once again

Help us to remember when

We were only children hoping for a friend

Won’t you look around these are the lives that the world has forgotten

Waiting for doors of our hearts and our homes to open

Boys become kings, girls will be queens

Wrapped in Your majesty

When we love, when we love the least of these

Then they will be brave and free

Shout your name in victory

When we love when we love the least of these

When we love the least of these

If not us who will be like Jesus

To the least of these

If not us tell me who will be like Jesus

Like Jesus to the least of these

Boys become kings, girls will be queens

Wrapped in your majesty

When we love, when we love the least of these

Then they will be brave and free shout your name in victory

We will love we will love the least of these

We will love the least of these

We will love the least of these

We will love the least of these

We will love the least of these

We will love the least of these

Songwriters: Chuck Butler / Joel Andrew Parisien / Juan Otero

Kings & Queens lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

My name is Pam Ogden, and I’m a wife, mom, homeschool teacher, blogger, and an author. I am passionate about my faith, family and adoption. My blog is the story of our previous and current adoption, and how our family is growing physically and spiritually.

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