We've been matched. For months I collected documents which reveal everything about our lives. As we sat across the dining room table from Debra, our social worker, she worked to talk in code about "that document from Utah." Keeg's, whom we call elephant ears, happened to be eavesdropping at just the right moment and into the room boomed his voice, "What's the Utah document?" So now my kids know their mom spent a day in jail when she was 18....shoplifting. Madison just sat down and began reading over my shoulder and apparaently was asleep when Keeg's found out. Now she knows of one of my many skeletons. Her response was, "That was dumb." Many cats are out of bags as a result of this adoption journey. So, after months of collecting paperwork, my heart reserved, aware of my fears and the many mountains ahead, I saw their faces. And something shifted within me. My heart might have skipped a beat. Sisters...not at all the boy I was expecting would climb into the spare bed in the boys room at the close of this chapter.
Many have said I would know when I saw "our child." I was hoping that would be the case. There's something so stunningly beautiful about getting to pick the child(ren) we're adopting. And holy. To be given the opportunity to taste an inkling of the Father's excitement over choosing me to be His and that He wanted me, is a gift I never expected I'd taste.
We chose them a few weeks ago, 7 and 9ish year-old sisters from the Kamanchi region of Ethiopia, 14 hours from the capital city. They don't enjoy the comforts of electricity or running water, paved roads, wood floors or carpet. They live in the village (likely with a relative), as the orphanage only accomodates boys and small children. At too young of an age, they waded through the deep waters of the death of the one who gave them life and first held them...their mother. We don't know anything else of their story. Yet we're going to intersect their story as mom and dad. How unexpected that our God, who is authoring the stories of two beautiful sisters from Ethiopia, and is authoring the stories of five Brockmans in Orlando, has chosen to weave our stories together into one beautifully imperfect narrative. Imperfect because of the cast members. Redemptive because of the author.
How crazily unexpected.