The months of growing to love this blue eyed, strawberry blonde beauty has taught me rich and eternal things about my Lord. But nothing could have prepared my heart for the disappointment of this process being considered a “failed adoption”.
Three months ago we were approached by a family who reside in the community that we live in who have fostered over 100 children and adopted 4 of these sweet babes. However, the child they are currently fostering was not a child they felt was wise to adopt as they themselves are in their mid to late 70s. So, they asked my husband and I if we would be interested in adopting her this sweet, calm, 18 month old angel whom they have had since birth. They have nurtured and cared for this lovely girl through meth addiction, multiple ear infections, and much more. She is a trooper that’s for sure.
Before I go any further with this story let me tell you right off the bat that adoption was NEVER “plan B” to our barrenness. It was always talked about from the time we were dating that adoption would be a part of our story as we built a family that mirrored the family of God: both interracial and grafting the orphaned into a family. Adopting was never a warm and sentimental way of creating a family when we failed to be able to do that through biological means. We never sought out a baby that met our specifications. If that was our goal we would have gotten a cat. In all of our efforts towards adoption we have had a war time, Gospel centered motivation that has moved us toward the “pure and undefiled religion” that James 1:27 talks about. Caring for the orphaned. Our decision to adopt was based on the premise that God adopts us. He is true and honest and very clear when He gave us every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places “even as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world” (Ephesians 1:4). That verse continues to say, “In love He predestined us for adoption as sons and daughters through Christ, according to the purpose of His will”. Not mine. It was never my will to choose God to be my God, my Father, my Savior. You see, I was hostile and at war against Him (Romans 5:10). I was dead in my sin and I without a pulse. How can a dead person choose anything, or anyone? Therefore, HE had to choose ME! Why… I’ll never know the mystery of His choosing. But, what a beautiful truth.
We found out this week that the little girl we had been pursuing to adopt will be adopted by her paternal grandmother. The foster and adoption system in the United States is set up for family members to have the chance to foster or adopt first before they enter the “system”. While I am incredibly disappointed, sad, and bearing the suffering once again, I am more thankful that she has been chosen. She has been chosen by her grandmother, and I know her grandmother will raise her the best way she knows how. Here I go again… arms lifted high to my Savior. Empty. Because He owes me nothing, and yet I still receive EVERYTHING in Him. Am I disappointed? You bet. You better believe that I’ve cried to the Lord in that disappointment as well… groans too deep for words (Romans 8:26).
Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Month has a different meaning for the Saylor’s. Not only are we bearing the suffering of past miscarriages and barrenness, but now the “loss” of what could be. The rest of this story is yet to be written.