Where’s the Rest of It?

Same thing happens with a good, intense movie – you watch it intently until the final curtain falls, usually accompanied by the reunion of lost family or couple, or at least the annihilation of something evil.  

But, think of those times that you watched that movie or read that book, only to be left with that feeling of being hooked or the feeling of intensity but then run out of pages (or time).  Is there anything more annoying than walking out of a movie theatre knowing that the screenwriters are already hooking you for a sequel?  I read the Hunger Games books a couple of years ago, not because I felt a personal connection with Katniss Everdeen, but because they never would end the story at the end of the book.  I kept running out of pages in one book, so I picked up the next one.  Annoying.

Well, consider us annoyed to a degree, confused as well, but mostly just looking for a few more pages, or at least the promise of a sequel.  

I received the phone call yesterday (Monday) evening hoping that at least a sliver of good news would push us to Tuesday, then Wednesday, etc.  I would like to think that I have at least provided Kelly (our case worker) with a little professional development over the past several weeks, because she has now mastered the art of bluntness (I didn’t get the red dotted line under “bluntness”, so I’m now assuming it’s a real word).  Within the first fifteen seconds of the phone call, she uttered the phrase “unfortunately, this particular situation is over.”

Over the next fourteen minutes, I had questions, she had no answers.  I wanted specifics, she talked in vagueness and generalities.  From what I could pull out from between the lines in talking to her, they really don’t know anything more than they did 48 hours before, when we got the original phone call on Saturday.  They still have not talked to Tiffany, did not re-attempt to actually go and visit her, have no idea of the status of the pregnancy, and don’t know whether the mother or the baby are safe and/or healthy.  But, they were willing to say that they are not willing to continue to pursue it any further.  

So, after several weeks of trying to connect with Tiffany, praying for her and the baby, making travel and housing arrangements, preparing the house and our family for a radical change. . . .we don’t even get to hear the Paul Harvey – the rest of the story.  

Sadness?  Yes, a little.  But, I think more over the uncertainty and lack of closure than over the lack of success.  We are going to be resigned to not sit around and point fingers at the Arizona agency, the birth mom or dad, or anyone else involved.

Do we have questions for God?  Millions.  What about all of the connections we seemed to make with this couple, with this situation?  What about all of the details that You seemed to orchestrate or work out?  What about. . . .?  But, asking questions and trying to pick God’s brain only sets us back in our journey, so I choose to simply close the book, hoping the sequel is written a little better.

We hold fast to the knowledge that God has called us to adopt, already has chosen a child to join our clan, and will work out the details yet should this be the right one.  But, if not (and it certainly appears now that it is not), then we start over.  We sit down to read another book by the same author, knowing that the same thing could happen – an unfinished story.  

Thank you for your calls, texts, emails, posts, private messages, etc., over the past few days.  Yes, we will dive back in there.  Yes, we trust that even though this squeezes us financially even more than before that God will work out the details there as well.  But also yes that God has used the past three days to strengthen our faith, to strengthen our marriage, and to make firm our determination to stay the course He has laid for us in connecting with our child, wherever and whenever that is.