The glider in her nursery where I’m sitting to type this blog post is the same chair where Sarah and I knelt to pray a week ago tonight. A week ago tonight, we were again anticipating that “the call” could be happening within days. Like in October, we received an email saying that China would be releasing a group of children and for all families to be on standby. Like October, we didn’t receive a match. But unlike October, both Sarah and I had gotten our hopes up this time with a feeling in our gut that it would finally be “our week”. In hindsight – after an emotional few days waiting for the phone to ring – I wish we would have been a bit more guarded. Lesson learned.
I don’t know what struck me a week ago tonight. As I lay in bed thinking about the little lotus, something led me to get down on my knees and pray (for the first time in many moons). I walked into the soon-to-be-nursery, knelt at the glider in the pitch black, began to open my heart, and as the first tear streamed down my face... I felt a shoulder next to mine as Sarah had come in the room to join me down there on the floor. Neither of us said a word, but as we locked hands and shared tears for what seemed like forever, I knew that only one thing was in our hearts and on our minds.
During the many things I prayed about that night involving the lotus and this journey, I received a healthy amount of unexpected humility. I was reminded primarily that (while this wait is indeed difficult on us), it’s *her* that really matters. Sarah and I have each other, a house to keep us warm, plenty of food, plus a wonderful support group to keep us strong. She has nothing. At best, there’s a slim chance she could be in foster care. But more than likely, she’s enduring unimaginable neglect at an orphanage somewhere, day after day, night after night. So last Sunday night, I tried to send her a message 7,000 miles away that one day soon could be *her* last day without a match of her own. All I want is for her to know that peace is in sight. And that I’m already praying that I’ll be the father she deserves. And that all of our energy in the coming months is focused on her needs, and the needs of the world... not our own.