It hurts...

I haven't posted anything about our adoption in a while. Maybe a quick update here and there in December, but nothing substantial.

It's not that I haven't wanted to write about it. I have. And I've started several posts. I just haven't been able to finish any of them.

Why?

Because it hurts.

This journey started with a rush of adrenaline. Hearing God's call...saying "yes" to Him...sharing our big news with family and friends...submitting the application and being accepted to the Ethiopia program...the paper chase. There was so much to be done. It was all so exciting!

Then somewhere around the time of our home study interviews, everything slowed down. The documents had been gathered and neatly organized. There was very little left to "do". The pace of the process slowed and the reality of the wait ahead of us started to set in.

The holidays kept us busy...and distracted. But then something happened on Christmas night.

Prayers were said before dinner and, as usual, our Ethiopian daughter was included in those prayers. We ate. The kids got restless and left the table to play with their new toys. Kyle and I sat at the table tired and quiet. Then he asked me, "Where do you think she is?"

My heart instantly ached. My eyes burned with tears. I shrugged my shoulders and imagined out loud all the places she might be...a hut in rural Ethiopia? a crowded orphanage? or maybe cradled in the arms of a young mother who desperately loves her but cannot care for her?

Because of the age range we have requested and the current wait times, we can assume that our fourth child-this sweet girl of ours-has already left her birth mother's womb and entered the world. 

We're here and she's there...clear over there. So far away from the family that will love her, care for her, help her heal, tell her about Jesus.

That hurts.

I hear Kyle's question...Where do you think she is?...over and over. As I kiss the kids goodnight and tuck them in their beds. As I place a bow in Olivia's hair each morning. As we drive to church. As I fold little socks and sweaters.

It hurts.

And that's why I've been quiet about the adoption lately. I just couldn't make my way from the ache in my heart to the "publish post" button. Until tonight.