Note to Self

Presbyterian heavyweight, Tim Keller, once pointed out that we humans have a tendency to sell ourselves short. He cited the case of Olympic athletes who spend the best years of their lives training for their one moment of glory. They devote and perhaps even deplete themselves, physically, mentally, emotionally towards this singular pursuit. Then, when the Olympic flags come down, the medals are hung up (if they were fortunate enough to have snagged any), when the humdrum pace of real life returns, disappointment sets in. Some of them even fall into severe depression. They begin to realize that that one moment of glory is not grandiose enough to continually sustain the heavy burden of their high hopes and expectations.

I've been thinking a good deal about this case as we are hopefully rounding the corner toward getting our first glimpse of our child. It's so easy to get caught up in the excitement of the adoption process, to be buoyed by the joy of those parents we've "met" online who write with news of receiving their referrals, to thrill at the thought of coming face to face with our little one for the first time. But then I wonder: will we, too, feel the big letdown in the months after our child comes home? Are we setting ourselves up the same outcome? Certainly some shift in emotions is to be expected once the reality of 3 a.m. diaper changes, feeding wars, and general baby chaos sets in. And for some families, PAD - Post-Adoption Depression - might be a valid diagnosis (incidentally, there's a good article about this subject in this month's issue of Adoptive Families magazine).

As Christians, Craig and I are painfully aware of our own tendencies to try to make gods out of anything and everything. Me? I worship my own comfort and status, my immediate family, and sadly enough, potato chips. (I'll let Craig rattle off his own top 3 some other time.) Lately, the adoption has been edging in on my list of God-wannabes. It's not that there's any wrong in getting really, really excited about meeting our child - not at all. The problem comes when I look to the adoption for spiritual fulfillment, comfort, and identity. Like the 30 seconds of glory on the Olympic podium, the adoption of our child can in no way sustain the weight of my worship. As someone once put it, there's a God-shaped hole in everyone's heart that will perpetually yearn until we allow God to fill it with himself.

Lest I forget in all of my adoption frenzy, I write this as a reminder to myself.

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In specific adoption news, we are still awaiting a referral. We're hoping to receive our monthly update from our agency sometime in the next few days. It should give us a more solid idea of how much longer our wait will be. Since we never received our update last month, we're particularly curious to see what this one has to say.