Two Kinds of Waiting

Who ever said "silence is golden" has clearly not waited to hear from their donor family for three weeks!!!

Wish I had exciting news to share with you all.  When Dan and I attended Grace Caring (the adoption ministry at our church) on Monday night it became glaringly obvious to me in hearing the stories of other adopting families that waiting is one of the most difficult parts of the process.  It is one thing that we all had in common.  The hardest kind of waiting is waiting for the unknown.  As a marathon finisher I have known what it is like to push through difficulty.  I understand well the meaning of the word perseverence.  The difference in our infertility/adoption journey is that we don't have a finishline.  In the marathon you know you are done at 26.2 miles and you will be able to stop running and rest.  I always finish my hard workouts really strong because I push for that finishline.  (This is how I know I am an athlete deep down inside.) 

With adoption I've had to alter my approach to waiting.  I can't set a finishline because someone or something will just move it.  I have to keep moving one day at a time trusting that God is leading us closer to where we are supposed to be.  There is this poem that I teach my American literature class by Emily Dickinson that speaks of this type of waiting.  It is nice to know that Dan and I are not alone in our waiting.  Emily D. and all of you are sharing our experience through your own waiting.  We are all waiting for something at some point in our lives, right?  Thank you for walking with us in our seemingly never-ending period of waiting.  Who knows, tomorrow may be full of good news and bright hope!

If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.


If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.


If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemens land.


If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.


But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.


-Emily Dickinson