I thought maybe this is like bungee jumping... not that I ever have, and certainly have no desire to ever try...
But I imagine you have to sign your life away on the paperwork that has lots of legal jargon and a bit about "YOU MIGHT DIE." You most likely have to sit through a class or a video to tell you about various aspects of the procedures. You probably even have to have a mini-physical to make sure you are healthy enough for this risky-crazy-thing.
Then I imagine you suit up with all the gear, you get strapped in and double check all the latches. You wonder if the harness makes your rear look ridiculous, but only linger on that thought a second because really, you aren't doing this without the proper equipment.
I'm guessing the next step is climbing a lot of stairs. Maybe fancy places have elevators, but I'm picturing a lot of stairs.
Like a lot.
Like, you have to lean over and catch your breath a few times from climbing all those stairs with all that gear on. You hear each step you take clang on the metal grates. Your gear rattles all along the way. You need encouragement to make yourself continue up and up and up. You notice you've slowed your pace considerably from those first few flights. But you keep on keeping on. Your thighs are begging you to stop climbing. But you don't; you've got your eyes on the prize.
And after the climb you are on the platform at the top. All the stairs are behind you. But the heavy breathing remains.
The fatigue of climbing the stairs and catching your breath is dwarfed with enormity of the jump that is coming. They are rechecking all of the equipment at the jumping off point. You've got a handful of moments on this platform to reflect. You wonder about others that have been on this high-on-the-top-platform-place. You recall briefly the words they used to describe their platform feelings.
You look at the view and you catch glimpses of beauty you never knew was there. If you hadn't signed the paper, put on the gear, and climbed all those stairs this beauty wouldn't be visible. Its a by-product of the main goal but its a beauty you won't soon forget.
And somewhere underneath the satisfaction of absorbing the beauty and being one of the few to sign up to do this thing; is a rising, unnerving sensation of fear mixed with adrenaline mixed with nausea mixed with a crazy-bold-love-of-adventure. And its almost your turn to get clipped in and put your toes on the edge of the platform. Almost your turn to jump.
Yep. That is kinda how I am feeling this morning. Almost our turn. But the analogy is lacking because the bungee-jump is over quickly - again, never have, most likely never will; but it seems to go quickly - and adoption is forever. Adoption is a calling and bungee-jumping is a tourist attraction. I know that. I do.
But there is no way to minimize this sensation of waiting our turn on the platform. We've seen the beauty. We marvel at the others that have gone before us. Bravely. We've heard their screams mixed with joy and overwhelming calls for help from our Father.
So we are waiting to get clipped in. We are waiting to put our toes on the edge of the platform.
We are talking at the dinner table as a family about our coming jump. It is beautiful. And scary. And exhilarating. And exactly where our Father has called us to be.
Will you join us in prayer on the platform this week? Whatever aspect of adoption that pops into your mind pray about it. For us. For the others with us. For those considering it. For the children waiting. For the beautiful caregivers that choose to stand in that in-between place with those children that wait.
"The One who calls you is faithful and He will do it. Brothers and sisters, pray for us." 1 Thessalonians 5:24-25