We failed them

October 30^th. The day before Halloween and Mike’s birthday, I received a message on my phone from our agency’s director.

“Call me back as soon as you can.”

 I didn’t get a single chance to call her until two o’clock in the afternoon on my conference time.

“Are you sitting down, Rachelle?”

Colombia responded finally. The committee over our case decided not to give us a date to appeal in person because they refused to reconsider our adoption petition. After fourteen months of living on the edge with our lives turned upside down, pouring every bit of our hearts and lives into two orphaned children, the door closed.

No reason.

No explanation.

Case closed.

Is it really over, just like that? Do we have any thread of hope left? My heart crashed to the floor, scattering emotions all over the place. Her words sucked everything out of me. I could barely breathe.

 “We’re not giving up yet. We’ll send our representative back one more time to see if they will give you a chance to let one of their own psychologists do a new psychological evaluation.” She hinted at a small ray of hope.

I felt completely defeated. I put my head down on my desk and let the tears fall. Devastated.

Hundreds of prayers went up on our behalf and on the kids’ behalf for God to change the adoption committee’s heart toward us. I even prayed for the two men in particular by name. For reasons I couldn’t begin to understand, God didn’t soften their hearts at all. They still believed us incapable of parenting an adopted child.

We failed those children.

Halloween didn’t hold the fun we’d anticipated. Rather than celebrate Mike’s birthday, we spent the weekend in shock with no hope of climbing out of our misery.

Only two days before, Juan David came to the phone giddy with excitement over receiving the package he’d requested for so long.  A package that contained the costume connecting him to David that night and the gift for the birthday he longed to spend at home with us.

Now I could only wonder what the picture looked like on his side. Did anyone tell him? If not yet, who would break the news to him? What would they say? When?

What about Viviana? Could I still visit her like I promised? Could I send her the suitcase full of goodies she’d requested over the last six months?

What about Julian? I didn’t even know where he fit into the picture, yet I felt so confident he played a key role in this adoption. Did I have any hope to hold on to? Would I ever talk to them again? A million questions and thoughts ran through my head, but those kids held my utmost concern, along with David’s fragile heart.

Had we been fools all along, and sadly, at the expense of these children? How could I ever forgive myself for leading them on for so long?