Awaiting Adoption

When the Fruitful Hollow team was planning for this Advent season, one word kept coming to mind: “awaiting”. Merriam-Webster has a captivating definition listed: “to remain in abeyance until”. Abeyance: “a state of temporary inactivity: suspension”. Each week in Advent we will dive deep into the abeyance. Perhaps many of us are intimately familiar with waiting. I’d like you to embrace the suspension in the upcoming weeks and experience the joy that Christmas brings when the wait is over. Press into the longing, stillness and wonder… something or someone is coming.

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Adoption. So many words are triggered in my mind by that one simple word. This summer we legally welcomed our 6-year-old daughter, Callie, into our family through adoption. It was our third adoption in 4 years. I had previously written a blog about how she grew in my heart (linked here) and shared at the bottom of that post that we were meeting someone special; that was my daughter. The story of our family is one that I have a hard time explaining; so much of our story was not planned. There are hundreds of miracles sprinkled throughout each of our adoption stories; wonder and awe still strike me often. One truth I know and wholeheartedly believe is that God often works in the shadows. God moves in the things we don’t see. 

Awaiting has looked different in each of the adoption stories of our children. 

Adoption #1: Peyton. During this adoption; I felt frantic. It was as if my child was already out there and I needed to find him… this ended up being the case. So many things moved and shifted in our first adoption story that opened doors for Peyton and our second adoption. We said “yes” to over 70 different cases before we got a call for our son. We walked into the first adoption thinking we would adopt a newborn, and ended up with a 5 year-old. Peyton has special needs and came to us with a plethora of diagnoses and extreme trauma. Yet, he has completely changed my whole world and how I teach and interact with others. He opened my eyes in ways that are hard to explain. The wait for Peyton was hard but it was active. I became obsessed with the process and kept a chart of statistics of cases we saw to predict what days were heavier “case days”. We would receive a case in our email and I would have to stop everything, call my husband, talk about our decision and send it in quickly. About 70 “yeses” and email responses with the words “not yet”. We had been passed over over 70 times. Why God? I’ll never forget the first time I saw a photo of my son; I was teaching in a classroom and didn’t even know his name. I saw his little face and physically started weeping in front of a classroom of junior high girls. I knew him. 

Adoption #2: Mitchell. We finalized Peyton’s adoption and I felt the push to start the process again. (You can read a blog about it here) Surprise: awaiting did not come in the form of awaiting a match this time, but in awaiting birth. Mitchell was the first case we saw and the first case we said “yes” to. Boom. This waiting was full of profound peace and intense fear wrapped up together. We were at the hospital for his birth and there truly are no words for how profound that experience was for me. Witnessing the selfless labor of Mitchell’s biological mom was something I will cherish forever. She is one of the strongest women I know. In Texas, parents are not able to sign their termination of parental rights for 72 hours. I held my breath for 72 hours. His birth was not a joyful experience; but one that was a labor of pain and fear. I held him in the hospital close to my chest just praying and holding space for this tiny thing who I may or may not get to parent. Mitchell’s birth mom was actually discharged before the 72 hours were up; as were we. We took him home and drove over an hour to meet her that next day and finish signing papers. The responsibility I held in my arms was heavy as I walked from that hotel lobby. 

Adoption #3: Callie. Callie had spent two years in foster care. The day I posted on social media that we were embarking on an adoption journey (again), I got a Facebook message from a former coworker saying she had heard about a little girl in our hometown who was needing an adoption home. Her case plan had changed from reunification to an adoption plan and her current placement was not able to adopt. We met her December 1, 2024 and she moved in with us officially at the end of January 2025. Boom; we are in foster care. In a haze of court dates, counseling appointments, meetings with her attorney ad litem, CASA workers, and case workers. Awaiting her adoption was a whirlwind and painful. I had always heard foster/adoptive parents talk about how hard the TPR (termination of parental rights) court date is; now it was my turn to experience it. The grief hit me hard. When I walked back to my car and shut the doors I couldn’t hold it together any longer. I ugly cried in my car. Her story was never meant to be this way. But by their voluntary release; I gained a daughter. To be hopeful for adoption through that process felt wrong. I was humbled in ways I never expected and doubt I will experience again.

I share those quick synopses of our adoption stories for you to understand the journey I’ve taken before I speak about this next part. I’ve taken this blog to prayer and asked what the Holy Spirit wants me to share about awaiting adoption. The answer was simple yet shook me to my core: “the way you love and longed for them, is only a fraction of the way I love and long for you”.

This Advent season we are awaiting or perhaps finding a renewed perspective on our adoption in Christ. I’ve experienced all of the stories above and they’ve offered a unique perspective on how God views us. 

You may not be from a perfect situation. 

He loves you anyway.

You may carry trauma from the decisions of others. 

He sits with you through it anyway.

You may have violently fought off Satan on multiple occasions. 

He protects you anyway.

You may have chosen Satan on multiple occasions.

He offers forgiveness anyway.

You may have never wanted to be adopted.

He grants you grace anyway.

You may not be perfect. 

He sees your perfections and imperfections and loves you anyway.

You may feel unwanted. 

He wants you with Him anyway.

You may feel neglected. 

He has never left you anyway.

You may feel broken.

He works to redeem the brokenness anyway.

You may feel undeserving. 

He supplies your needs anyway.

You may be angry with God. 

He loves you anyway. 

Knowing the love I have for each of my children is only a fraction of the love that He has for you and me is overwhelming. There is no power on earth that can shake the love I have for my children. No wrong they could commit. No words they can speak. Nothing they can do would change my love for them. If they should wake up one day and decide they never wanted me to be part of their story and then they decide to leave, I would pray and wait for them to return.

And I would love them anyway. 

So as we embark on this Advent season, be assured, friend in Christ, that not only are you awaiting Christ… He is awaiting you.