Hope Does Not Disappoint

Mother’s Day is coming soon. Four years ago, after many months of talking and praying as a family, we decided to adopt a daughter from China. We did paperwork – lots of paperwork. Kyle and I picked out some furniture for her room. I picked out bedding and a color for the walls of her room. I bought books about China, about adoption, about Chinese adoption. I bought her a Christmas stocking. She has gotten gifts in it for the past 2 Christmases.

But as the wait lengthened, my doubts began to creep to the surface. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe it wasn’t God’s plan. I already knew it didn’t make sense to start over as parents with a child in high school (Torey was 15 at the time) but laughingly told people that ‘God’s plans don’t have to make sense.’ But a child in COLLEGE?!? And a marriage that was going through a rough period? And, most recently, a set of family crises that have led Kyle and I to question our life choices at every level? And a husband who, given our circumstances, now articulates worry that we could afford the adoption fees or to provide for her if we were able to bring her home? What was I supposed to do?

I recently had two dreams of my Chinese daughter. I never actually saw her in either but the idea of her presence was palpable. In the first, I was in a grocery store buying formula meant for her. Some days later, I dreamt again. This time, she was in the hospital for some reason. I am not sure if it was for a surgery or treatment of some illness. I was genuinely puzzled by what my dream self did. I found every excuse not to go to the hospital. I let Kyle handle making all the trips to admit her, check on her progress, etc. I wandered about, filling my time with unimportant and non-urgent things but kept calling to check in on her. Finally, just before I woke up, I went to the hospital and made my way to her floor. I walked up to the nurse’s station and asked where her room was. The nurse replied, “So, YOU’RE Mrs. McDaniel. We were wondering when you’d be able to get here.” There was no judgment in her voice, only recognition. As if they’d heard a lot about me and believed it was perfectly reasonable for my daughter to be the hospital and for me to have something –anything – more important to do than be right by her side. As if a mother could stay away for any reason. I am not sure if I realized within the dream or after waking that I was guarding my heart in case she didn’t survive. I believed that if I didn’t meet her, it would be easier to let her go. That isn’t real love. It is only self interest.

I now see that this is how I have gotten through the waiting that began Mother’s Day 2005. Instead of grieving deeply that she isn’t yet here and praying regularly that God would bring her soon, I have spent the last few years protecting my heart in case she isn’t really going to come. I have been afraid to pray because I would have to open my heart to her to do so. I have talked about her to others as little as possible because I have feared we would realize we weren’t called or able to adopt. Was I worried about losing face? Or asking others to pray for something that wasn’t God’s will in the first place? Or protecting myself from talking about her so that I wouldn’t have to think about her? Yes. That is what is inside me, motivating me. It is ugly and it is embarrassing.

It is time to stop playing it safe with her. It is time to tell people about her and ask them to pray she’ll come soon. It is time to believe and hope again. It is time to learn to trust God when His ways terrify me. It is time for my second daughter to come home. Come soon, little Camille.