We were to leave shortly after lunch, head to O'hare, then to London, then to Entebbe & on to our guesthouse in Kampala.
The last several days have been hard. Several tears. Lots of hugs. And much time embracing family time-bubbles and chalk during these beautiful spring days, walks after dinner, lots of snuggles and books after tub time and taking deep breaths. Re-arranging an entire room of packed clothes, toys, medicine, diapers, etc. was my therapy for the first day. And then I cleaned. I cleaned my kitchen-I mean, REALLY cleaned my kitchen :). I listened to God through scrubbing my floors and scrubbing my cabinets. God often speaks to me when I clean. And so...I clean. It's monotonous. It's therapeutic. It's also easy to wipe up tears if you're cleaning.
We are humbled by the love we have felt through many of you-your texts, comments, calls and emails are encouraging and felt. Your prayers have sustained us, dear friends. Saturday night's adoption fundraiser was so humbling. To have to share such vulnerable and difficult news only 24 hours after we found out was made a bit easier as we looked out and saw so many dear faces...and you cried with us. And you hugged us. And you prayed for us. To see an entire room of college kids praying for Keziah's care and for orphans around the world is awe-inspiring. It's the Body of Christ in action. Thank you for this.
So today...today, we continue to grieve. We continue to heal. We continue to place Keziah and her aunt and her care in our Almighty's hands.
There is also hope. We had a good conversation on Tuesday afternoon with our adoption agency in Texas...asking for updates regarding Keziah and her well-being. They are waiting to hear back from the probation officer & the lawyer team regarding Keziah and her placement with the aunt. The aunt is a school teacher. This is encouraging as this means she is employed and likely to be able to provide for her niece. That gives us some comfort. We also began the "what now?" questions in our dialogue with our agency. We ask for continued prayers for wisdom in this regard...
About 6 months after I lost my Dad I read this quote...
I can't go back.
I can't stay here.
I must go forward.
Going back tends to boil up bitterness or frustration in me. And while grieving is necessary and healthy, I know staying in my grief and sadness for an undetermined amount of time isn't wise. And so forward, I/we must go. Forward with our family. Forward with decisions. And most importantly, continually forward into His outstretched arms.