Like the watchmen before dawn

It’s cold. We are exhausted. But I am filled with renewed hope.

The icy waves crush into the shore. We squint to see a sign of light into the sea of darkness. The wind is howling. It’s deafening and mesmerizing all at once. I love a howling wind in a winter night.

How long till dawn?

I frankly don’t know. But I will not succumb to doubt and fear. I will stand my ground. And I will speak courge into my husband’s heart as well.

He has been holding the fort. Strong and brave. Calm. Steady. But he is getting anxious as well. It doesn’t feel festive. It’s the eve of Christmas. And we are on hold. Waiting still. Did we do this to ourselves? We tried to keep living our lives while holding lightly to this adoption event.
We kept busy. We answered most questions with a hopeful spirit.

I’m reminded of people who waited 20 years for God’s promise to fulfill. Did they take their mind off of it? To make it bearable. Were they waiting in the doorframe, with lights on, scrutinizing the horizon.

But enough about my fretting.
How is she? Is this a time for my love to grow deep roots before I even gaze upon you? My daughter, my beloved.

You are so wished for. So loved. So precious. There is a hole in our heart, just your shape. Do you hear our hearts calling? Will you find your way home?

It’s stormy, I know. It’s hard to see the shore. It’s painful to keep holding on, but you’re close. So close to home.
You have an army of friends and family, praying for you, waiting to hear of our reunion. A family across the ocean, and another large family here, on this side of the world.

And there is our dog, your dog too, who can’t wait to to take you on walks up the hill. Hurry home my sweet sweet daughter. May the lord calm the stormy sea. And lead you with a bright moonlight to our shore.