In just two short weeks, we will know if we can take a Certain Baby Girl home. In 14 days, when we hear the result of the hearing, we will either get a rush of adrenaline (and tears, I'm sure) as we prepare our home and hearts for her... or we will prepare our hearts to say our final goodbyes.
When I was younger, in high school and college, Momma would always tell me to "claim" Good Things in Jesus' name. If I was worried about a looming test or an assignment or a difficult conversation I had to have, she would build me up with encouragement and Love to believe and trust in the Good Outcome we hoped for. "I claim this in Your name, Jesus, because this is my daughter and I have a right to pray for her."
And so, I have taken a leap of faith in this adoption case. I am clinging to my choice to believe that we will be able to take our Baby home. I choose to place my verbiage and my thoughts and my planning in the hands of God. I am plunging head-long into the churning emotional sea of Confidence without Assurance. I am confident we will have her soon, though I do not know for certain.
I choose to say "when we take her home" instead of "if." Not that I don't think "if" to myself sometimes, but when I say it out loud I try to have confidence. Each time "if" surfaces, I say a prayer: "Please, Lord. We want to be her parents."
I think about silly things like, "Where am I going to put all the baby wash cloths that we will need/use?" and I proceed to mentally rearrange the bathroom cupboard to accommodate all those soft terry-cloth symbols of parenting.
I wake up in the morning to pump and I think of how soon Taylor and I will be lingering in bed just to watch her breathe, peacefully asleep between us. Every time I pump, I close my eyes and imagine her nursing contentedly.
I try not to think about what it might be like for us after March 21 if she won't come home with us. We will be fine, I know--I believe that, too. I have always trusted God enough to know that if we are not meant to have this little girl, He has a good home for her. She will always have our love and prayers. And we will be blessed to be parents to another child.
I deliberately avoid thinking "what if we don't get her?" not because I am afraid of losing her, but--more precisely--I avoid them because I truly feel called to actively dwell in the hope that she is meant for us. I don't know what goal that hope is directed toward. I don't know if it means we will take her home, but I know in my heart that I must believe.
And I do.