Little Do We Know

So, it’s been a little while since our last blog post when we announced our referral for Gabriel. The silence has largely been due to the fact that there hasn’t been much to report, except that–thanks to a brief update on his height, weight, and location and a few new pictures–we know that Gabriel is alive, well, and living in a foster home in Kinshasa (Congo’s capital city). We haven’t heard where our case is in the court system, and we don’t know when we will hear.

It seems that with every slight piece of information we receive, there are countless other pieces of information we don’t receive. We are quickly learning that international adoptions are not for those who must have all the facts.

At this point in time, we know Gabriel’s given name (Bilo), but we don’t know–and might never know–the names of his biological parents, grandparents, let alone siblings. We know the name of the street where he now lives, but we don’t know the name of the street on which he was born. We know how much he weighs now, but we don’t know how much he weighed at birth. We know he can walk, but we don’t know who helped him with his first steps.

We are hopeful that we will get to be privy to his future, but only the Father knows his past . . . and, for that matter, much of his present. And that might be the hardest part.

Every day that goes by, we can picture the face of a little boy more than 7,000 miles away who desperately needs parents. And we desperately want to be those parents. But there is little we can do about it. We can send 100 emails a day, but that won’t make our case move any faster. We can send him care packages filled with clothes and toys and parents’ love, but we can’t guarantee that it will get to him. We can get all of our documents in order, get all of our immunizations scheduled, and arrange all of our flights, but that won’t secure us the right to be Gabriel’s parents.

At the end of the day, we are in the hands of those we have contracted with to care for our future son and to pursue our case on our behalf (thankfully, we have reason to believe that these hands are trustworthy). But even the kindest of foster mothers and the most dependable of lawyers don’t have the power to make Gabriel ours anymore than we do. That’s a matter for the One we know as Lord.

And so we do the only thing that is truly in our power: we pray. Every night, as we lay our heads upon the pillows, we ask God to care for our future son, as he begins his day while we are closing ours. We pray for our case and everything that we don’t know about it. And we pray for His perfect timing in bringing Gabriel to us.

And so, when you ask us what you can do to help, please pray. For patience in the waiting. For grace in the unknowing. And for the speedy coming of a day when we will no longer see our son through a few sparse photographs, but face to face.