Not About Me

One lesson I find difficult to learn is this one: it's not about me. On Wednesday, I asked a wise mom about her experiences adopting from Ethiopia. She told me 2 things that have been ringing in my head ever since. I should probably say I was convicted. I needed to be.

1. I do not want the children that I see other people bringing home. 

How did she know I had been you tubing Ethiopian adoption?? I really had and was insanely jealous of everyone I saw holding their new child, giving a first bath, relishing a first meeting with siblings. What I realized is that wanting those children is like going to a hospital nursery and longing to take home one of those babies. Those babies are not mine. They are not meant for me. Yes, we are "expecting" but it's not time to bring home our baby. yet.

2. What is happening in the children's lives is very sobering

She said this as we talked about our desire to have our timing work out well. I can think of adoption as a set of errands that I want to go well--no backtracking, no forgetting anything, no inconvenience and I want to be home in time to start supper. 

She shared with me that on the day she and her husband were approved, her Ethiopian children watched their father die. That, indeed, is sobering.

My son hit his arm really hard on a swingset today and then fainted. I'm counting on significant consumption of Doritoes and ice cream to be indicators that he is fine. He also just told me he "really wants something to do today. Like have you wrestle me." 

"Eli, I am not going to wrestle you on a day you fainted."

"But I could beat you still..."(trying to entice me)

"I don't care. Get a football. I'll throw it at you."

Joel and I are still free from biometrically interfering open wounds.