How did I get here? (Part 2)

Adoption was not on our radar when we said yes to hosting. 

I think it’s important to emphasize that the goal of hosting (at least as it is facilitated through our organization, New Horizons For Children) is NOT ultimately adoption.  The majority of the children that are hosted are not even cleared for adoption.  Only about 10% of hosted children are eventually adopted.

We didn’t know if these children were cleared to be adopted, and we decided before they came that we wouldn’t ask.  Six weeks seemed like enough of a challenge.  As a family we decided that after the hosting period was over, we would consider if God was leading us towards anything else.

Honestly, I expected my answer to be no.

I already know that I am capable of loving a child who is not biologically mine as my very own.  There is a young man we would have adopted in a heartbeat had it been possible, and he was as dear to me as the four I’d given birth to.  In that situation it was not meant to be, and he has since withdrawn emotionally from us.  I grieve that loss and there is not a day that passes I do not pray for him and wish for our relationship to be restored.  So yes, I know I could love an adopted child.  That was not the source of my hesitation.

Mostly, I was comfortable.  I’ve been having and raising children for a couple of decades now, and while I’m nowhere near an empty nest, the last year or so have afforded me some freedom that I haven’t had since about 1994.  Katie and Mackenzie are grown and mostly on their own. Elijah is a senior and is quite independent. Eleanor and Constance are still home but are old enough and capable enough to fend for themselves when necessary.  Even homeschooling doesn’t require my constant, undivided attention anymore.  Dan and I can have date nights.  I can go grocery shopping alone.  One afternoon each week, the kids leave home after lunch and I am in my house ALL BY MYSELF.  I’ve  daydreamed a bit about going back to work in a few years, maybe even getting my MSW.  I almost went into social work instead of law, and I think I would be great at it.  I’ve had a lot of fun imagining what my second act was going to look like, and I was going to be the star of the show. 

It's ironic to me that when I was smack dab in the middle of the motherhood mayhem, when I felt like I had no identity beyond diapering, homeschooling, cooking, cleaning and chauffeuring, when I had to retreat to the laundry room in the basement for alone time…that’s when my “yes” was immediate.  That’s when I would have added one or more without hesitation.  But now when I had more time and resources to give, I found myself a little reluctant to share.

Comfort can be as addictive as a powerful drug.  And once we are hooked on our own comfort, it becomes increasingly difficult to notice or care about the discomfort of those in the world around us.

I’m grateful that God didn’t let me go there.  Because while this journey is most certainly uncomfortable, it is also thrilling, joy filled, and rewarding.  Not only have we received the gift of having these three amazing kids in our lives, we have been introduced to other incredible, interesting, and generous people who probably would never have crossed our path.  We have experienced the blessing of complete strangers who have volunteered their time and given their money to help us with expenses.  Our family has been challenged and stretched, and our faith and relationships are stronger from it.  And Lord willing, Dan and I will have the opportunity to visit a part of the world that we almost certainly would never have chosen on our own.

Comfort is overrated.