It's been just over five months since we said good bye, forever, to our precious girls. 151 days, to be precise. One of whom just had a birthday. One we thought we'd be celebrating here. Those days are so incredibly painful. I am thankful that we were able to make the hard choice when faced with it and stick to our convictions, because it was right...even when it tore us to pieces, but it doesn't ease the fact that we were committed to these 2 girls for the better part of a year. We met them, embraced them, and had to say good-bye, FOREVER, to them. I don't know that there are many people in this world who can comprehend that level of pain. There is no closure in ceremony & burial as though a child was lost to the Heavens. No, we continue to live life every day never knowing if R & A have enough to eat, if they're attending school or if they were beaten so badly that day that they're raw and bloody (caning is common practice for disciplining children in Ghana). This is our reality. We just don't know.
We thought we would.
We had every hope & intention of sponsoring R's education and maintaining contact...but the social worker assigned to the case won't return my calls. R's mom stopped calling and no longer answers my calls. I'm sure she feels I abandoned her, but I didn't! I was told I had to go through the case worker to provide support, which leaves me no where. I have an NGO on the ground in Ghana willing to help me get care & support to R's family so she can be in school...but we don't know where she (or A) is or how to find her without this social worker. It sucks.
So here we sit. Still grieving, still mourning the loss of two children who will always hold huge pieces of our hearts. In my own way, I took the first step to my own healing just last week by commemorating the girls with a special piece of art. I worked closely with a friend to have a design created with 4 lilies (1 each for Ivy, Mya, Liam & Cora) and 2 butterflies for R & A (our girls who fluttered beautifully into our lives, and then had to flit away, unable to stay). The imagery is forever embedded on my flesh, bold and beautiful, just like each of the beloved children they represent.
We know we aren't done growing our family through adoption. We've been exploring our options, and when God opens the door for us to begin this journey again, we will share excitedly, I'm sure. For now, we have agreed not to return to Ghana for the purposes of adoption. We will undoubtedly return in both mission and tourism capacities as frequently as possible. We love it there (though I'll admit, I'm not a fan of the majority of the local cuisine). The people, especially the children, are so welcoming and sweet. There are several children there with my heart in their hands - and none of them can ever become ours. So we love them the best we can, through child sponsorships, care packages, and most importantly prayer. But adoption in Ghana has changed. It's not the program it once was, and the powers that be are trying to close it all together. I won't be surprised if it happens. I'll be deeply saddened for the estimated 1 MILLION orphans in Ghana, but not surprised.
So for now, we pray. We continue to grieve. We live one day at a time. We seek God's face and His plan for our family, and hope He will bless us with another child (or children) sooner rather than later...but whenever we are blessed to add to our family again, and whomever it shall be, we shall praise now for what we know is to come, and we will give thanks to our Father in heaven for His mercies that are new each day.
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."
~ Matthew 5:4 ~
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