Letting go is part of life's process

I let go of our adoption process that hasn't actually ever been much of a process. A process implies the paperwork is a step toward something. Rather it seemed like we were walking in frustrating circles.

Two Januarys ago, I opened myself up to the idea of adoption, even though it scared me. In the past two years, God's drawn me to him and made me think about family and loving the least of these. He welled up in me a desire to expand our family.

I'm not entirely sure why, but now we believe we're supposed to lay our family before him. He still has me thinking about family and loving the least of these, but I knew I needed to let go.
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Coming off two independent adoption processes in 2007 and 2009, we've never loved the idea of adoption agencies. But after waiting awhile this time around, we dived in. And we got caught off guard and caught up in the bureaucratic red tape that is an adoption process, especially in Kentucky. I became distracted and burdened.

In the past two years, God has taught me much about letting go. But he's still teaching me. I've been holding tightly this desire to have a this third child. And I need to let go. Because I'm not really in control anyway. Because I have two kids who need more than a distracted momma wishing for more. Because my husband agrees.

We met with an adoption agency the Friday before Christmas. I was reservedly excited that this would be it. After a girl in Bulgaria and a homeless toddler in Jackson, Miss., seemed like they could be the aim of this adoption process but then fell through almost as quickly as those phone calls came, I really wanted this agency to be where we were going. After some philosophical differences with a social worker who pretended to know us but didn't actually ask questions that mattered, I hoped for a connection this time.

But after three hours of sitting across a desk from the well-meaning director, I left knowing this wasn't it. On the way to pick up our kids from Grandmom, I talked a little and mostly cried.

I talked little because there really wasn't much else to say.

I cried because I knew it was time to let go.
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The rest of that evening was filled with sweet distractions courtesy long-time friends' and their families. It was good to laugh about motherhood and memories. It was freeing to say I didn't know what was next. They were just what I needed.

And then the next day there was more socializing that had nothing to do with adoption and everything to do with life. When Greg and I got into bed that night, we ended up talking about adoption.

We independently had arrived at the same decision: We aren't going to pursue anything adoption related right now. And let me tell you, there is so much peace when God plants to two hearts at the same place before we even open our mouths to discuss it. I needed that clarity.

My life has finally taught me never to say never, so I'm not going to theorize about our future. I'm just going to say this agency wasn't for us and I'm going to let go.

Our hearts are open to the possibility of bringing a third child into our family. I've long believed this time would different than our other two times. I still don't know what that means or if it even matters at this point.

But I do know I serve a God who gives every good gift in the time that is perfect. And he's good even when I don't get my way. Sometimes letting go makes way for the God-sized dreams he has for us. As I learned this past year, being drawn to him is the ultimate dream anyway.

I know I have two healthy, funny kids who fit perfectly in our family. Greg and I agree we don't yearn for someone who is missing. It's more about believing we have more to give. Perhaps our family is complete. And we're OK with that.

I also know I'm not who I once was. Being a mom has changed me. How I became a mom has changed me. And these past two years of pursuing and waiting have changed me.

So perhaps the process that has yet to lead to a third child really has been important in ways that truly will change my family. Letting go is freeing. And, yes, sometimes it feels like a free fall. But God's got us. By loosening my grip on adoption, I seem more able to live my life, the one right now, right here, that doesn't involve a scripted process.
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With this post, I'm joining Jen Ferguson's Soli Deo Gloria party, where we're always free to bare our souls and where she's talking about our real-life meeting. My similar version of the story is coming tomorrow. And, yes, Greg and I really bungy jumped together in August 2009 in Queenstown, New Zealand. 

I'm also linking up with my God-sized dreaming sisters. {And then again here in March when it was again releveant!} For me, letting go is hard, and sometimes verbalizing it is even harder. But finding the words is freeing, just like the actual loosening of my grip. Read what I learned from a year of God-sized dreaming here. 

I later linked up with Jennifer Dukes Lee for #TellHisStory because letting go is part of God's story for me, and Thought-Provoking Thursday at Lyli Dunbar's place {and who cares that's it's actually Friday now!}. 

I spent November blogging about adoption. Feel free to catch up on our story in that series. 
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