chapter 3 {the waiting room}

it's like i'm sitting in this sterile waiting room. the room that i've found myself in before. other adopting families are here. they too are waiting for their names to be called. to be called back. to be called to india.

it's common to share stories in this room. it's certain we will cheer another on as their name is called. called to india. it's frustrating at times, to be honest, to know something beyond your control, has kept you in the waiting room.

this past thursday put everything in motion. it's like we were called back up to the window and told her passport is in, flights can be booked, the orphanage staff is inviting you in a week.

i've got a bag packed beside me full of expectations. of what i envision thursday being. of all the dreams i've had at night when i needed to believe she would be our daughter.

i've had full intentions to take the bag with me through the doors when our names are called.

i've kinda gotten attached. it's where i've shoved my expectations. it's where i've put images of other adopting family's stories and pictures. it's packed full of what i expect our first meeting with kavita to be like.

but when my name is called, i'm told i don't need to bring my bag with me.

while it's helped me cope until now, it will only weaken the experience moving forward.

it's like c.s. lewis would describe

“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about...when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

making mud pies in the slums while being offered a holiday at the sea.

if i bring it with me i will hold others to my dreams and miss out on the beauty of the moment.

so while my dreams have kept me on cloud 9 at points along the journey and have kept my head above water at points i thought i couldn't take it anymore, i'm leaving my bag in the waiting room. it's served its purpose.

our names are called. it's time to go.

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and what awaits us on the other side will be best experienced with arms open wide and fully awake with all of our senses.

not to my story, but to the story God has been writing all along.