I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. Not because it’s Monday…not directly anyway…though that doesn’t help. It’s because I fear the paper cut. Let me explain.
Our adoption process was going along swellingly well. Things were smooth, our agency was helping to move things along quickly because of B’s age. My plan was to have him home in September and on most days I believed that was going to happen. I was praying, my small group was praying..and things were happening! God things – like getting our fingerprints done early, our agency working on B’s referral before our CIS approval came back, and our CIS approval coming back in record time. My calculations had us getting our referral about a week after our dossier was in Addis. Amazing timing. This was in early July – which meant that we could get submitted to court before the August closure. Life was good.
Each day I waited expectantly for the call from my social worker (sw) between 10a –12p. You see, my sw had assured me that the referral should be complete "soon" – they had mostly everything, they were just waiting on one piece of paper. At one point she even told me that she could actually read me the referral, it just wouldn’t be “official” until they got that last piece of paper. I just knew that any day I’d get the call, and I assumed, based on my complex mathematical calculations that it would be between the hours of 10am and 12pm.
For those who are so inclined to step inside my brain (a scary, scary, place), here is my complex mathematical rationale: Ethiopia is 9 hours ahead of Texas, so by the time my sw gets to work in the morning, the workday in Ethiopia is already over. Therefore any new news on our case would be waiting in her email box upon her 8am arrival. Since we are 2 hours ahead of TX, her 8am is my 10am. I figured that she’d call me within the first 2 hours of her workday because surely she isn’t going to save a referral call until the end of the day – it’s kind of a big deal. Okay, now you can get out of my brain…it’s super crowded in here – between you and all the words to Led Zeppelin songs from my college days…there just isn’t room for much more.
Back to the story…
Every day I was infused with hope as 10am rolled around…but by 12pm…my shoulders rounded forward as hope drained from my body. As the last drop of hope exited at precisely 12pm, a sting of sadness would settle in. A paper cut on my heart.
As of today, I have endured 50 paper cuts. Although my sw assures me that everything is fine with B’s case, she is just waiting on the Ethiopian sw to email her the last piece of paper, which should be “any day”….tomorrow at high noon I will likely receive my 51st paper cut. I’m sorry if that sounds defeated and dreary. I have heard “should be any time now” or “should be next week” at least 10 times – and last week when she told me “should be early next week” I decided not to believe her. Sort of. Because I want so strongly for this to be true I will unwillingly, expectantly await her call between 10a-12p. I can’t help it.
I keep reminding myself that it doesn’t really matter when I get the referral because the courts are closed now anyway, I just need to get it before they re-open in October – that's all that really matters. That’s the logical part of my brain talking. However, I don’t live there. I live here: Dude. At this point, I just need it. I need that part of this process to be done. Now. I can't wait another day. I can't wait another second. I need some chocolate.
Lord, please let tomorrow be the day. Thank you. Amen.