He's Got You and Me, Sister

Large packet of papers: Check.
Large bank check: Check. (Large amount of money. I'm not taking one of those giant publisher's clearing house checks. Although, that'd be kind of funny if I did...)

It's done, people. Tomorrow I take to Bethany the large packet of papers that is our Formal "formal" application. Then our references will be sent out. Then the interviews can begin.

I am anxious. This anxiety is not from a place of "oh no, what if they don't approve us" because I understand that pretty much this is all a legal formality. We'll be approved. I'm also confident that at the appointed time, our birthmother will pick us.

I'm anxious because when I hand in this packet, I will no longer be in control of this adoption. (The reality is that I've never been in the first place.) Tomorrow, all illusions of my own sovereignty will perish. I will turn in the packet and then we will wait. And wait.

God has shown me His faithfulness in our waiting in the past. I know this drill--pray for patience and God will provide it. And yet I have never REALLY had to trust Him like this.

No. I take that back. I remember what it was like the first few days I was in the hospital with Henry. I remember telling our Pastor that he would have to pray for God's will to be done, because I was too busy praying for Henry's life and that if it was God's will to take Henry home early, I wanted no part of it. Graciously, God's plan for our family was for Henry to hang in there and join us here on earth. I also prayed that no matter what happened, that I wouldn't believe the lie that God had forgotten about us or that this yucko crisis was an indicator of His feelings for me. And He gave me greater faith to trust Him then. So I'm expecting Him to do the same again.

So God, remember that cool thing you did in my heart while we were waiting for Henry? Yeah. Could you do that again? Thanks.

But I'm still aflutter.

As I've begun prepping our guest room for my mother-in-law's visit next week (she is watching Henry while we go on our 2 day adoption training extravaganza), I moved the bassinet into our bedroom. Henry likes to crawl inside of it and yell, "Baby. Baby night-night. Baby wake." It is a bit odd to have already put the bassinet in our room, but really, it would be a hassle to take it back up the third floor. And I'm going to go ahead and put back together the crib, so I can take a picture of it for our profile. There is a part of me that thinks this is premature. That I'm setting myself up for an agony of looking at that bassinet, knowing full well that it will become that place we set the folded laundry until we get around to putting it away, and my heart hurting because there is no baby night-night inside.

And yet. We ARE expecting. We ARE waiting for a baby. (Holy freakin' cow, folks, I'm going to be a mother of two!) If I was pregnant, you wouldn't begrudge me nesting and here I am nesting for our child. It could be that he or she is already growing somewhere in our birthmom, gestating happily, ready to have his or her nose honked by Henry.

My mother told me that the other day, someone asked her and my dad how many grandchildren they had. They responded, "13. Sonya's youngest is a month old and Elizabeth has one on the way."

And we do.

It may be out of our hands, but like the song says, He's got the little bitty babies in His hands; He's got the whole world in His hands.