We stopped off, first, for a treat at St@rbucks where Bean asked to try the salted caramel cake pop and some hot cocoa. Being my ever-cautious, super-taster foodie, she nibbled a few pieces of salt off of the top of the pop and declared, "Mom, this is weird. It tastes like salt." I assured her that she would be pleasantly surprised if she would just take a more substantial bite of the entire pop and, indeed, she concurred. Silly girl...she's just like her mom!
After a few minutes of trying to start conversation with my little vault (she kept asking if it was time for her "surprise"), she informed me that I was no longer allowed to ask her anymore "What?" questions. Of course, this only challenged me to start all questions with a different inquiry :-)
We moved on to the bane of every father's existence - the dreamscape of little girls everywhere - a makeover spa for the princess living in all of our girls. Dripping with pink and sparkles, it promised the beauty of a princess and the discomfort of her daddy.
I basked in her enjoyment, delighting in her beauty and thanking God for the refreshing and confident breeze she is to my soul. Still, I couldn't help but think that, a few weeks ago, I had hoped there would be two more little girls joining us for glitter and pampering and sisterly bonding. Bean mused, wistfully, over her cocoa about what her big "sissy" would be like and my chest tightened a little knowing that there are two little girls who need to know a mom who thinks they are special enough to pamper - not that they are too much trouble to handle or a burden to be dealt with or just a government paycheck to be deposited. They need to know they are Daughters of The King, just like Bean, full of worth, desirable and honored.
When I heard that the girls would be going to live with FP2 based on a seemingly arbitrary assessment, I prayed that God would somehow give me reassurance, His peace, they were in the right place, they were taken care of and being cherished and loved. Instead, Brenda informed me at Little Man's hearing that there is much trouble in FP2's kingdom. It felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. The helplessness was palpable like vomit playing at the base of my tongue. The injustice of this whole cruddy system was sitting, in all of it's overfed, satanic obesity, directly on my lungs, daring me to breathe. Taunting me with ignorant cruelty, a sadistic voice whispered that I wasn't enough and there was nothing I could do about it.
The voice is right about one thing. There is nothing I can do about any of it and that's why I chose now to let go. A few days ago, I deleted every inquiry on Adopt US Kids...all 90 of them, and stopped looking at Waiting Child lists. If I am to believe that my God is enough when I am not, that He is able to do exceedingly, abundantly, above all that we ask or think (Eph. 3:20), then I really need to believe it. Is He capable of bringing our kids home in miraculous ways that have nothing do with us? Absolutely. It's time I believe the Word He gave me about this particular journey and start living it.
The Lord will fight for you.
You need only be still.