If it's meant to be yours, it will come back to you.

Each night after that, I opened my computer to input grades for school, only to end the evening with long, meaningful online conversations with the older brother of the two children I lost. Before I knew it, he took center stage in my world.

“What kind of job do you have?” He wanted to know all about my job, my class, and our family.

“I teach bilingual education. I work with second graders the same age as your sister. I have two older brothers, one that lives close by and one that lives far away in another state. My parents live kind-of far, too, in another state.” I asked all about his life, and he enjoyed telling me about himself.

“I am in high school, and I will graduate in November. I also take classes at a local college to learn about the manufacturing of leather goods. I love art, and I want to study fashion design. I am seventeen years old, so I probably won't live here much longer.” He had less than a year left in his orphanage until he began life on his own.

Over the following three weeks, Julian and I grew closer than ever. Each of us thanked the other for loving his siblings. He couldn’t express enough how much they still loved us. He filled in gaps for me, missing pieces of the story. He also let me know about Juan David and Viviana’s progress since everything fell apart, the two children I finally accepted I would never know another thing about.

The kids and I even sent simple greetings to one another once again through Julian.

“Please tell your sister I said hi and give her a hug from me.” And he did.

“My brother wanted me to tell you hello for him. He misses you.” Those words warmed my heart.

Letting go -- if it's meant to be yours, it will come back to you.

When I finally let them go, God gave them back to me. But now instead of two, He gave me three. Abraham's sacrifice came to my mind when God asked me to give them back to Him. Now Abraham's story (Genesis 22:1-13) came to my mind again as I recalled how God gave Isaac back.

“Your full purpose in their lives has not yet been fulfilled. I am not finished with this story. Keep holding on, my dear child.” 

John 14:18

May 13^th. Not even two weeks passed since I came home from the retreat, yet I felt so free without all of the heaviness weighing me down like before. I couldn’t believe I found the strength to do it, but I somehow let both of them, (all three of them), go. I moved on without the kids I’d loved as my own, without the questions hovering over me, without the constant search to know why.

I gave them back. God held them in His hands. I accepted I’d never know anything about them again, and I knew I could trust my God to continue to love and care for them. Our investment into their lives completed a part of our story and of theirs, but now I trusted Him to provide them a family in His time.

He would not leave them as orphans. I didn’t need to know how or when. I only knew He’d already prepared a future for them. I didn’t need to know the answers anymore. I only needed to remember God always had and still held control.

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/51087776996859372/

I truly believed I’d seen the last of Julian’s sweet e-mail messages. God completely surprised me when I found another priceless message now two months later.

“Do you, by chance, have any pictures of my brother and sister on your computer that you can send me?” He wanted to create a virtual photo album of the three of them online via a social networking website.

“Of course I have more pictures. I’m at work right now, but I will send them to you as soon as I get home this evening.” Overwhelming emotion hit each key as I typed an immediate response.

Julian and I ended up connecting live via that same social networking website, opening up a whole new world of communication between us, bridging the huge continental gap dividing us. Still twenty-five hundred miles apart, we could finally see pictures of each other and “talk” anytime via the computer.  Constant conversation followed almost daily.

Thus began our quest to get to know this “forgotten” sibling.

 What a handsome boy!  I loved looking through current pictures he posted of himself. I even found a picture of him wearing a sweat shirt we sent for him and Juan David at Christmas, proof that they received the box and shared the contents.

I never saw this coming. Julian and I built a unique relationship rather quickly. I heard God whisper to me, “It’s not over yet. Did you not know I would complete what I began the day those two faces appeared on your computer screen?”

Good news!

Unexpected Tears is now available on amazon in the kindle edition. The paperback should be available in another day or two!

http://www.amazon.com/Unexpected-Tears-Trusting-Adoption-Surviving-ebook/dp/B014C6VHUE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1440467873&sr=8-1&keywords=unexpected+tears&pebp=1440467876341&perid=07XNZKY2HD50NF16W4X2

A clearer purpose?

Take us to Colombia

After all of the heartache

and so many tears,

Your purpose is finally

becoming a little more clear.

Could it be Colombia?

Is that where lies our ministry?

You asked me to love two of her children,

and now You gave me three.

I finally can see

maybe this all led to him,

but where we go from here . . .

I'm completely on a limb.

Less than ten months from now

He'll live completely on his own.

Please take us to Colombia

before he takes that step alone.

From everything he's told me

It's so clear he's in Your hand,

We are the answer to his prayer

when he asked for strength to stand.

Please take us to Colombia

if that's where we're meant to be.

Please reveal to us Your purpose

for leading this "child" to me.

http://watchlist.org/the-countries/colombia/

Latching on to HOPE

I waited patiently for the Lord; 

he turned to me and heard my cry. 

He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; 

he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. 

He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. 

Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord. 

Psalm 40:1-3

Surrender

Over time the anger within me subsided. I learned to accept the final outcome, even though my questions still begged for answers. My heart leaned more toward absolute surrender, and healing loomed closer than I knew.

The first weekend in May, I attended a spiritual retreat for women after a friend suggested it. I struggled with mixed feelings about the retreat. My husband attended the one for men the weekend before and came home different, almost like a new person. I knew I needed the time away, but I didn’t know a soul there. Since I’d already taken the time off of work and arranged for a substitute to cover my class for two days, I went, but reluctantly.

This retreat differed from any other retreat I attended in my life. The women did almost everything corporately, and the leaders packed the schedule tightly, leaving little room for reflection or time alone with God. However, God used a few periods of silence to speak to my heart.

I almost laughed when I heard the whole weekend themed around the concept of restoration.

“Okay, God, I’m listening. I’ve been on a quest for healing for the last seven months. I guess I’m exactly where You want me this weekend.”

Once again, the songs hit a chord deep within my soul as we sang about God turning our weeping into dancing, lifting a weight of sadness from us to give us joy again. Would God do that for me? Did I still have a reason to sing?

I met some incredible ladies that weekend, and I found a kindred spirit who remains a dear friend even today. She and I connected almost immediately, and we barely spent a moment apart whenever we found a chance to hang out together. I thanked God for giving me this new, dear friend to help me continue through this journey.

Many tears spilled that weekend, which happens often on spiritual retreats, but not a single tear belonged to me. I watched others bear their hearts to one another and let go of hurts they held onto for far too long. Seeing their walls come down helped me realize how many walls I’d built up around myself. I suddenly saw how many people reached out to me over the last several months only to have me push them away.

My heart finally softened. I really didn’t have to do this alone.

The final day of the retreat, God pressed heavily on my heart and asked me to trust Him. I wanted so badly to grow in my faith again, but as long as I held on to my whys, my faith couldn’t grow. I couldn’t grow. I needed to trust Him even if I never found answers. Did I trust His character more than I trusted in His power to bring it all together?

Holding on to Juan David and Viviana kept me stuck in a miserable pit of self-pity. I knew they held me back from the growth I desperately wanted. I silently cried out to God that morning, finally surrendering those children to their Father who gave them to me in the first place.

“God, I do still trust You with them, even if I never know anything else about them. I trust You to give them the family they deserve.” I felt like a huge weight lifted from my shoulders.

https://jmitchloves.wordpress.com/2011/06/15/open-hands/

Our final hour, each woman shared how God spoke to her during the retreat. I stood there in front of everyone with tears finally streaming down my cheeks.

“I came here grieving the loss of two children after a failed adoption. These have been the hardest six months of my entire life. God took my faith at its strongest point and crushed it.”

Then, without knowing where the words even came from, I continued, “But I believe He broke us, broke our family, in order to make something beautiful out of our story.”

 I did not realize God began to lift us out of the valley that very moment, carrying us right back up toward the mountain we confidently stood on a year ago.

Still walking

I counted it a blessing when I heard music beat in my heart again by the end of April that year. The passion and rhyme returned as poetry stirred within my soul. Words flowed from my pen, and I started to process and connect the recent past with the present and the future.

Still Walking . . .

Hearing Your call

so loud and so clear,

we had no other choice

but to swallow our fear.

We took every step

as a step in the dark,

not knowing what followed,

or if we hit the mark.

Would we have enough money?

That was our number one doubt.

Yet we knew that our God

Already planned it all out.

Would we have enough patience

to handle the change?

Was this parenting challenge

completely out of our range?

Every question that surfaced

He answered with peace.

He placed a call on our lives,

thus our fears had to cease.

He provided the money,

we were never in need.

He provided other families

whose advice we could heed.

It all came together,

our lives were prepared.

We eagerly awaited

a challenge many wouldn't dare.

Yet all we prepared for,

all the needs God met,

all for a journey with

a destination we know not yet.

So we continue walking

one blind step at a time,

not knowing where we're headed,

or how steep remains the climb.


https://www.blendspace.com/lessons/y6MWyXdWbEtfUA/footprints

Even tragedy has a purpose,

so I continue to believe

God is still at work

while He gives me time to grieve. 

Letting go

At the same time, I also began to devour books. Pursuing Viviana and Juan David’s adoption filled me with incredible joy and passion. I missed that joy. I craved it. I begged God every day to give it back to me. I read every book on joy I could get my hands on. In the mornings, I dug into Bible studies, learning Scripture after Scripture on the topic. I couldn’t read enough books about grief and healing, hoping to gain some kind of headway on the stages that came with grief.

Little by little, God repaired my heart. He had to break me completely in order to mold me into the person He created me to be. My screaming matches subsided, and our relationship grew civil again. The intimacy didn’t even come close to what it had once been, but deep down, I knew I could still trust Him.

I knew and believed our experience had purpose. It could not have been for nothing. God didn’t write the last page of our story yet. Meeting those children began something grander than I could imagine, something that could never come to life had we not crossed paths with them. I clung to that. I had to.

Julian wrote me another sweet e-mail in March, three months since I had contact with any of them.

“My brother and sister miss you. They think of you a lot.” Knowing they were okay helped me through this emotional drought, and I often wondered what I would have done if God didn’t connect us with that precious brother right before it all fell through. Without him, I would have never known anything more about them.

Several months eventually passed by without any more word from Julian. Viviana’s eighth birthday came in April of 2010, which meant Julian’s seventeenth birthday also passed four days earlier. I couldn’t send a gift or even a card since the orphanage officially cut off all my ties to them. They wanted the kids to let go of us in order to properly attach to the next family found for them. So, I sent my little princess a bouquet of prayers and kisses, and I asked others to send up a prayer for her, as well, to add to the beautiful bouquet.

I remembered thinking only a year earlier that she’d never spend another birthday without a mother because we’d complete her adoption before then. Unfortunately, she did celebrate her special day again without even the prospect of a mother in her life. As far as I knew, they hadn't matched another family to the kids yet.

When May approached and Julian didn’t send another e-mail, I accepted in my heart that our communication ceased. God gave him to us to keep us informed enough about the kids to make it through those rough months. Now I needed to allow God to heal me so we could move on. As long as I knew more about them, I couldn’t find closure to my grief. I thanked God a million times for that boy. Sending me a few simple e-mails did more for me than he ever knew. Yet now I let him go, too.

Letting go -- if it's meant to be yours, it will come back to you.

After sending a total of ten messages over a five-month period, Julian stopped writing to me. All three siblings now officially disappeared from our lives. I still dared to wonder if God might allow me to see them again someday. Would our paths ever cross again? Would we ever see our purpose for the role we’d played in their lives? Could a chance actually exist to someday meet Julian in person to thank him for what he did for us?