The End of the Journey to Jenny

On Monday, June 18th, we received the phone call we'd been praying for since December:  The Ministry approved our Article 5 Letter!  This meant that we could now petition the local courts in Jenny's region to set a date for the adoption hearing.  As soon as I heard the news, I started mentally packing our bags and putting a hold on our mail.

There was just one pretty big devastating snag of a hiccup: On the same day a foster family from Jenny's country had finally stepped forward for her.

If you've been following our journey from the beginning, you probably already know what that means.  The current administration in her country is extremely nationalistic and wants their kids to stay put.  This means that even an out-of-the-blue foster family > a willing, able and loving family from a foreign country.  Even if that foreign family has been waiting and praying specifically for her for over 18 months.  

Even if that family has a bedroom already prepared for her.  
Even if that family has already consulted the world's best pediatric pulmonary doctors.
Even if that family's friends and loved ones have prayed and donated time, efforts, resources and acts of every kindness to bring her home.
Even if that family thought they were following God's plan to make Jenny their daughter.   

A room full of books, clothes, gifts, and love - all ready for Jenny.

Our only thread of hope was that the potential foster family would be found inadequate to care for her and her special needs.  We prayed.  But we weren't sure exactly what we were praying for.

The news came two days later, in a place and a way that only God could have orchestrated.  

It was Adoption Advocacy Day and we were in Washington DC, literally on the steps of the Capitol Building with an agenda chock full of meetings with New Jersey Congressmen and Senators.  We were surrounded by a busload of various adoption professionals, including two from our own adoption agency, when we got the most devastating news: Jenny's potential foster family was actually perfect for her and wanted to adopt her.

And just like that, our journey to Jenny had come to an end.

We realized the irony of our devastation.  For Jenny, it means not having to leave the only country, culture and language she's ever known.  It means she'll get a forever family...and wasn't that what this journey was all about in the first place?

But our hurt is deep.  The wound is still raw.  How do you grieve the loss of something you never really had to begin with?  Yes, we're questioning God.  Why?  How could this happen?  Did we not hear His direction clearly?  Were we wrong?  Was this not His will for our family?  Why allow us to get this far?  

Did we travel this journey to be humbled?  To be refined?  To strengthen relationships with many of you who have supported us along the way? Did we experience this loss so that we could comfort others on similar journeys?  Did our own journey raise awareness in Jenny's country and ultimately allow her to find her perfect forever family?  Was our journey to Jenny really just a catalyst to a bigger journey yet to be known or to another child whom God has planned for us?

The answers may never come, and we have to be okay with that.  Because God really is bigger.  His ways are not our ways and His plans are not our plans (Isaiah 55:8-9).  

Make no mistake:  Jenny will always be part of our family.  When you come visit us, you will be greeted by her pictures hanging on our walls. Vivien will still speak of her "big sister" and we'll still pray for her every night. And we will run to her and embrace her as our own in the Promised Land someday.  

This may be the end of "The Journey to Jenny," but the road is still stretched far ahead of us and we know the One who guides us forward.  Thank you, friend, for being along for the ride.