Sometimes it’s easier to write about a dark season after the pain has subsided a bit. Other times the pain gives a boost of creativity, and the words flow easier. I’ve found myself telling the story about our failed adoption match a few times recently, and I no longer feel sick to my stomach when I do so. Well, not *as* sick to my stomach. The enormity of my emotions from that time, and the pain of having it fall through, still overwhelms me at times. God has been so good to bring significant healing since last December/January. I would like to share about it a bit in this space because I know our story, although unique, isn’t uncommon.
On December 18, 2013, almost one year ago, we got the phone call. The call that every adoptive couple dreams of. It was about 4 pm, and even though we had been waiting for over two years at that point, it was still the last call I expected to get that evening.
“You guys were chosen!” said our case worker on the other line.
“It’s a sibling group of three children.”
Three children. Wow. My heart was beating so fast.