Like everyone else

So, I will be the first to admit that I am not unique.

I'm actually pretty average.

What? That's not so bad.

Growing up I was "cute."
Never beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, etc.
Cute.
My older sister always considered that a four letter word . . .
which it is, but you know what I mean.
It didn't bother me much because I could see it.
I knew who the beautiful girls were. Everyone did. I was not part of that genre.

I wasn't homecoming queen . . . or even a part of the court.
I wasn't a varsity cheerleader (broke my arm as a freshman and killed that dream.)
I wasn't a star athlete, in any sport.
I played the cello and sang, well enough to get college scholarships, but not everyone plays the cello or sings alto, so I served a purpose.
I wasn't in a sorority. Heck, my sorority girlfriends in nursing school are the ones who taught me about lip and eyeliner! (No, I'm serious.) Thank you Juli and Trixie :)

I was blessed with the love of a cute, cute boy . . .
who turned into one heck of a handsome man . . .
and I married him . . .
and as nature would have it, he continues to get more and more good looking and attractive and sexy,
while I,
a woman,
fight gravity and the effects of stress on my outward appearance.
So unfair.

I will say that over the years, John Frieda and the Pantene line have done a lot for me.
Thank goodness for product!
Why couldn't my hair look this good back when I was super self-conscious?

Anyway . . .
When it comes to adopting, I'm guessing I'm not all that unique either.

I've hit the point of major discouragement.
Two years into my heart's desire and my son(s) are no closer to being home as part of our family.
Our pockets are much, much lighter from all the money going out,
but there are no more children in our home than the two angels we started with.

I find solace in the words of other adoptive mamas who understand how your spiritual self is deeply affected by the waiting and working and the brick walls repeatedly placed in front of you.
Recently, another mama said to me "oh, that's the point where we nearly walked away."

Oh my word.
Now, she gets it.

I believe that the call to adopt and care for the fatherless is a Godly gift.

I believe that the Enemy works hard to put up barriers, plant doubt, throw racism and prejudice in our faces, create stress and conflict in our personal lives, and wear down our resolve to follow our hearts and the Voice that called us to the task.

It's kind of like being in junior high or high school -
listening to the bad things, believing the negative thoughts and feelings
becomes easier than believing the positive and the good.

I find myself getting sucked into the drama of political battles over dates and specifics and titles.

I read the news posts about documents drafted and leaked (however intentionally) and families freaking out how their paperwork and their process timeline will be affected.

Lately, although I keep up to date by reading the gossip news updates,
I feel rather numb to it all.

Like it doesn't really affect me at all anyway.

We are no closer.
There is no one with power on our side over there fighting for us or for our child.

There are so many families in the exact same boat as we are in.

Waiting.

Working to do all they can do.

Praying.

Hoping.

Wondering if it will really ever end happily.

Flipping pages on the calendar and watching biological children grow,
while answering their "when are the boys coming home?" with more
I don't knows.