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This excerpt is a journal entry I wrote in 2014 when we were in Uganda spending our first few days with JuJu and Moses, my two youngest. It was a difficult time and their’s was a difficult background. The Lord has been faithful to our family and we are celebrating the finalization of the adoption this week! Praying for God’s hand of favor on these two little ones, daily. Since this was written, JuJu has put her faith and trust in Jesus and is doing exceptionally well in school as well as in her own young faith walk. We are praying for the day when Mo receives the Gospel and puts his trust in Jesus and His Gospel. JuJu is in second grade and Moses in Pre-K. Praise the Lord for his goodness and grace in our family!
We are learning a lot on this journey. Adoption is always hard. Adoption is always worth the fight. We didn’t come in here with any preconceived or romanticized ideas. We knew it would be hard: the long days of waiting for the next appointment, the attachment issues, the task of giving love to someone who has never experienced it and may not always want it. But as the saying goes, “The reward is worth the risk.”
This evening, our new daughter was standing alone in the yard, in the dark, crying softly. Kilby found her and brought her to me. As I held her and stroked her hair and gently wiped her tears, I told her the things I would tell either of my other daughters. “I love you”. “Jesus loves you”. “It will be okay”. I spoke Psalm 23 over her, made up a song, and sung to her. And then it dawned on me… “You can cry as long as you want to.” You don’t have to stop crying. In a culture of survival, I wonder if she has ever felt the freedom to cry. Or, maybe, she has spent a lot of nights crying herself to sleep. I don’t know. I don’t speak the same earthly language as her, and I am not sure she would have given me answers to those questions even if she could. The language barrier was shattered by gentle hands, soft words, and tight squeezes, and hopefully the love of an earthly father that reflects a God she will soon know. After half an hour, Little took her to her bed, and rubbed her little, scarred belly and arms, until she slept. Now, she is peacefully resting, and I hope and want to believe feeling a little more secure.
Loving someone who doesn’t understand your love is as good a picture of the Gospel as I have ever seen.
*Photo by Ellis Illustrations