So . . . I haven't posted anything lately for two reasons. First, the pace of life has been a wee bit hectic. Peter and the boys performed six shows with the Northeast Wisconsin Passion Play, and I helped chaperone the children's choir backstage. Some dear friends welcomed their third son into the world, and I helped organize a few weeks of dinners for them. We had spring concerts, a two-day trip to Chicago and Milwaukee, along with piano lessons, Scout meetings, and other normal life stuff. I help run an outreach program for at-risk young women, and there were 48 Easter gifts to prepare for them, and teams to schedule for gift delivery. And Anya Rashi started swimming lessons, just for good measure.
But the other reason I haven't written is that I've been very aware of some adoption-related milestones. Peter and I drove to Milwaukee to be re-fingerprinted for the adoption, which means that 15 months have passed since we first filed for our daughter's I800 immigration approval. This month is also the month we thought we might be traveling, if our adoption timeline had followed the same path as Anya Rashi's.
Instead, Easter Sunday will mark 18 months on the waiting list for us. We started out in October of 2009 at #11, and in just a few months, moved up to #7. Then after a few more months, we were #3, and there we have stayed. We never dreamed we would be waiting this long. There have been no referrals since June of 2010, I think -- and before I feel too sorry for myself, I remind myself that Sarah's and Karen's families have been waiting ahead of us even longer.
I am glad that most of our spring busyness is over, so I can concentrate on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and glorious Easter Sunday. The timing is perfect, reminding me of Jesus' friends, disciples, and mother, who thought the story was over when He was crucified. Their wait was three agonizing, grief-stricken days -- they did not know that the story would end with a miraculous resurrection.
I know the end of that story, just as I know the end of our adoption story: new life. We will eventually see that first picture of our new daughter, and eventually fly halfway across the world to gaze upon her in person and welcome her into our family. If I ever doubt that she's real, I only have to look at our evidence -- the bubbly, inquisitive, funny, creative big sister who traveled the same road to us three years ago.
