The past few Christmas holidays were rough for our me and our family.
In 2019, we were in the thick of the Tripp’s case. We were past the worst days, but still in a holding pattern. I was frustrated at the situation. I never thought we would celebrate his second christmas with us and he would still not be legally ours. I was angry at the injustice from the oh so broken system. My heart was broken in many ways. It’s hard to celebrate when your heart hurts.
Last year during the Christmas season, besides the global pandemic that affected all of us, we found ourselves in a holding pattern again, but for Jon this time. It was a different kind of waiting. I wasn’t angry at the wait…this wait was justified and expected. However, waiting is still hard even if you know it is coming. I was simply just so weary. Burned of all emotions.
We adopted Tripp the week the world shut down in March 2020. So, while we were celebrating one of the best days of our lives, we had to do so alone. The world around us was in chaos. So, there really never was reprieve from the anxious waiting that foster care and adoption brings.
In both 2019 and 2020, I was weary. I was tired. It was hard to find joy. I very much identified with the Christmas story. In many ways, waiting at Christmas is the most appropriate way to honor the first Christmas. The people of Israel were waiting for a rescuer…so was I. Their joy was real, but also so incomplete–my exact feelings during those hard years. This year, celebrating the birth of a long awaited Savior felt different.
I was definitely one of those people that thought that adoption day was the final destination. I was under the impression that once adoption was done then life goes on. It’s actually quite the opposite. I both forget my kids are adopted and think about the miracle of their stories often. Even after this much time has passed, I still catch myself just watching them play or so often just acknowledging how lucky Ryan and I am to be their parents. I am so often reminded that life with them was just a hope and prayer. I’m so often reminded that life with them is a gift.
Don’t get me wrong. My kids are two and three. They are loud. They are messy. They are still learning to follow directions and still learning to have nice hands and use nice words. They can totally drive me crazy. But even in the crazy, we are so incredibly blessed. It is Ryan and I that are the lucky ones.
This Christmas felt much different than the past few. Joy overflowed from my heart having both of my sons be right by my side. This Christmas season really showed me that God hears us and answers our prayers and that his promises really are yes and amen.
I hope everyone reading this was able to find some joy this Christmas. If your hearts were heavy I can totally empathize with you. Know you are loved.
Koko
