I am in limbo. Hovering, or perhaps falling, in an empty space I didn’t even know existed in the realm of “becoming mother.”  This “loving a baby who may or may not come home with me” is a wholly new experience for me; nothing like what I expected; nothing like I had heard from other parents, adoptive or biological; nothing at all like what I had hoped and prayed for.

The Lord is certainly teaching me patience. Or, at least, He continues to try to teach me patience. I don’t think I’m a very good student, unfortunately. I seem to be asking the same question over and over, a la Derek Zoolander.

Maybe I’m just not hearing the answer.

Maybe the answer is Silence.

For a few weeks, we were so hopeful that she could be with us soon, as a family. I cultivated visions of waking up with her in the morning and carrying her with me in a sling all around town. I saw her smiling at us on our couch or at our kitchen table. I pictured her as part of our every-day lives and not merely a-few-hours-on-the-weekends.

Now, though, as time drags on and the courts have not scheduled a date even for the first hearing, I struggle against despair. I fight feelings of futility in our weekly visits and in our interaction with her. Anger at the apparent lethargy of the powers-that-be regarding her future, and ours. I am tempted to guard my heart against another disappointment, another delay in the process.

When I quiet myself to pray, all the while tumbling through limbo, I perceive stirrings, gentle breezes which motivate me to re-position myself with regard to This Baby Girl. I am being led back toward the “waiting without knowing” stage of our parenthood. A difficult place to linger, and even more difficult to re-enter. It is, in a way, plunging head-first down a hole you know nothing about–depth, bottom, breadth.

And so, I close my eyes and feel the wind on my face as I jump, propelling myself forward. “What am I to do, Lord, while time and dreams and hopes rush past me in this space, this waiting? Here I am. What do You want?”

Once more, I am told “Love without question. Love until it hurts. That’s how you know it is enough.”

Once more, I tell myself: “It is enough to Love.”

I can feel a warmth in the air with my eyes closed. A hopeful warmth of Light further on, further in.

And that is enough.

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