Little whispers in my ear. Little images in the night. Thoughts of the "What if" scenarios. But one- one scenario stuck. I could see it happening. Here the voices. Picture the room. Even now when I think back on that 'scene', I picture my fear scene- not the real one.
I prayed. Oh brother where art thou, did I pray. Great big sobbing, giant tears on my knees, pull the car over, hide under my desk, can't speak for hours pray & tears. What do I do God, when this happens? What do I do?
You see, I'd seen it so clearly, over and over again. I'd prayed about it over and over again. That I thought for sure- I 'knew' it was God, preparing me for what was about to happen. So much so, I almost repacked my bags 100 times preparing to have to stay in Ethiopia indefinitely.
In my mind, God was telling me - His family wants him back. I thought "for sure", our family meeting would culminate in me hearing that now that he was healthy and would live, they would like for him to return home to Wolayta.
Knew. For. Sure.
I'm admitting to you here and now, that I made a photo album of pictures and thought of a hundred others tactics to sneak into that meeting and use, for when those words were spoken. I really did.
In the end, the album and all other tactics stayed home. Did not even make the flight.
I don't think I ever voiced this out loud. Because that would make it too real. But that sneaky suspicion that God was preparing me, his new- little- baby- know- nothing- Christian, was ever present, and precipitated every action, word and thought in those months.
What would I do, when it happened?
- Now, in reality- most of us know that 1- the agencies have prepped the families over and over again that they can not expect such things nor say such things. And 2- they would never translate it, even if they did. In fact, I'm sure many of them have used the "look at what America looks like" "school" "food" "easy life" tactics to win over the families. Which is yucky and sucky and makes me feel like a nasty "ho' for only now realizing the manipulation I participated in- even if it didn't happen in front of me. NOW I KNOW.
Just for a moment- forget about the agency interference. Think about what would you do in a moment like this?
"Sorry Charlie. Court says he's mine now."
That's where I was from November to January. Stuck in a - what? Where? Should I do? Now?
That was my fear. That was fear, knocking on the door. It wasn't God speaking to me, giving me answers on how to be prepared to manipulate, take the baby and run scenario. It was outright Fear.
- God didn't put that there. But, heck yes, He allows that. He doesn't save us from all our fears. How else are we stretched to grow? How else do we grow deeper in faith?
Fear. Pain. Growth.
It's a common theme on this journal o mine.
I do not know what I would have done- had that scenario actually played out. I don't. But that is where my heart went upon reading, the now long absent, posts from a place call simplicity blog. It smelled like fear.
And I wonder, if that isn't a good question, we should be asking the first parents. Or should adoptive parents, at least pose the question before themselves? I don't know. I really do not know. I will never know- until the situation is staring me in the face. I hope I take the God paved road. I hope I take the ethical route. I hope I take the road the empowers rather than oppresses. I hope. and I hope. and I hope.