Today I received in the mail 11 documents that are completely ready for translation and submission to Ch*na. This is the majority of our Dossier. I just spent about an hour and a half making copies and then I happily and gratefully mailed the entire stack to my agency. OUT of my hands!
Those of you who have adopted internationally know exactly what this represents - if you haven't adopted internationally, let me try to give you just a small word picture. Imagine driving in your car, around in circles for about 36 hours non-stop while your other children scream, fight, whine, claim to be staaaaaarving and whatever else kids do in the car, the entire time. Imagine spending about the same amount of time on the phone with various government officials - most of whom transfer you to another person who still can't help you - because they never really wanted to in the first place.
These papers represent hours and hours of my life and the life of my family. They represent the tears I have sobbed into my pillow at night wondering if my son is safe and happy and if anyone comes when he cries in the night and begging God to prepare his little heart for our family. They represent my youngest son's dream of being a "big brother." They represent the callouses on my knees from the prayers I have prayed for vulnerable children all over the world and specifically for MY children - wherever they may be scattered.
As I stood at the post office counter with my stack of authenticated documents, the post lady got out the priority envelope and shoved them inside. Since 9-11, most of you probably know that the post office has a list of required questions to ask before you mail a package. She was looking at the list and just kind of skipped the questions about liquids, flammable items, etc... since clearly she had loaded the envelope herself. But, since she is required to say it out loud and receive an audible answer, she said, "It's just papers correct?"
I resisted the urge, because bless her sweet post lady heart, she had no idea what she had just crammed into that envelope - to say, "No, half of my heart (or at least 1/6 of it) is in that envelope." Those papers are breakable, flammable, and currently one of my most valuable possessions. They represent a little boy who lives on the other side of the world and who right now is considered a "foundling." A nobody. An unimportant drag on his birth country's welfare system.
But God......the Almighty, the Creator of the Universe has reached down and chosen him. This little boy on the other side of the world. He has been plucked out - connected to our family by the red thread. The Master Weaver has chosen to add him to our family tree. I don't know why. I don't know what God has planned for him - or more likely, for us, because we will be far more blessed by his presence than he will ever be by ours. However, THIS I do know -- our lives are about to be forever changed. These are not "just" papers - they are the tangible representation of the prayers that brought us all to where we are right now.
At the 2015 Justice Conference, Jenny Yang said this, "Charity is giving someone the crumbs off your table. Justice is giving someone a seat at your table." And in her most recent blog post, Ann Voskamp said this, "We can not afford to say we are about Jesus, and not be willing to pay the cost of pursuing justice." My son is the victim of an unjust world. He should be raised in his birth country, by the lady who carried him under her heart for nine months. The lady that most likely could not afford the surgeries he needs to be whole and healthy. The lady that probably mourns for him every single day. He should be raised in his own country, with people who look like him. He should. One day he will look at me and see that we do not look the same. And he will want to know why.
I am so tired of the injustice, the apathy, the downright stubbornness that manifests itself when it is time to have the hard conversations and time to put some skin in the game. I heard a friend of ours preach recently and he said, "When it comes my time to go, I want to leave it ALL on the field, holding nothing back." There is a sense of urgency everywhere I turn. The spiritual battle must be at its absolute pinnacle because there is tension sparking in the air. Injustice is overwhelming. It is like the kettle is overheating and the steam is billowing out in hot clouds - friends, it is about to BLOW.
Don't you want to be a part? It is going to happen whether we sit apathetically on the sidelines or whether we suit up and join the battle. I do not want to sit by and wait to see what happens. If all hell is going to break loose, then I want to be in the war. Scripture tells us that our battle is not with flesh and blood but with the spiritual powers of evil in the heavenly realms. The evil seems overwhelming - but, it is not. In the end -- Jesus wins. Knowing that should fuel us. We fight on the winning team - but fight we MUST. It is not over until God says it is over.
"We can not say we are about Jesus, and not be willing to pay the cost of pursuing justice."
If not us, the Body of Christ, -- then WHO????
Pray friends. Please please pray. "Everyone loves justice, until there is a cost. And there is always a cost to justice." Eugene Cho
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