I had a dream about four years ago about a sweet little boy. We were standing in a hospital hallway looking through a glass wall at a woman in labor. He was holding my hand and he looked up at me with his sweet brown eyes and mini ‘fro and asked, “is that my mama?”. I replied, “yes, baby, that is your mama”. Then, the dream was over. The next day, I felt wrecked. I told my closest humans that I felt like he was my son and he was alive out there waiting for me to come and get him. This feeling weighed on me for a few months heavier than any conviction I had felt before. My husband and I talked a lot and he simply did not have peace over adopting/fostering. He couldn’t explain it, just as I couldn’t explain the feeling that my child was out in the world waiting for us to come and rescue him.
I questioned God for a very long time. I did not understand why He would place one feeling in my heart and a different feeling in my husband’s. I felt a sense of urgency to do something…anything…to help this little boy and I felt like God was saying..when you can’t physically do anything, pray. Pray fervently and channel that urgency into advocating for that child who has no voice.
Eventually, the feeling faded and I learned many lessons about things I could do even if we weren’t actively fostering or adopting. I wrote the date down because a part of me felt like when my husband received that calling to adopt, it could still be for this child and could still have been born or conceived at the time I was praying for him.
A few months ago, I was thinking about my nephew and how his journey to join his adoptive family was such a roller coaster ride. He was in foster care with my brother and sister for over two years before he was finally adopted. I thought about how there were only a few families they could use to babysit him because you have to be approved by the state to do so and how each holiday and birthday we all would say, “this could be the last one with him. We can’t imagine life without his smile and vivacious self”. But, the stars aligned and the grief of him losing his biological family and celebration of gaining us as his adopted family happened one December day. I thought about how many people gathered in the courtroom to commemorate that this little boy was rescued from unfortunate circumstances and how my sister and I rode up to Grady hospital together to pick him up and how we tried to guess his ethnicity because his newborn look was so unique…and then I stopped in my kitchen and tried to catch my breath.
I calculated back to when that little boy visited me in my dreams and wouldn’t you know it…it was him. I started feeling the desperation to pray for this little boy right around the time he would’ve been conceived. Any confusion I had felt about this little boy dissipated and all that was left was gratitude. I was the vessel used to pray for him while my brother and sister prepared their home for him. They were busy with home studies and fingerprinting and anxiety about the big step into fostering, so their plate was a tad full and God had designed it to be that way. I was pregnant with the twins when my nephew was adopted and God knew the design for my family when I was wrecked with grief with a broken heart. I realized in my dream that he and I were standing on the side of the mirror looking in at my sister and not myself. She and I get mistaken for the same person often, so it would make sense that I thought It was me in the dream.
A couple of weeks ago, I attended a live simulcast with some faithful women featuring Priscilla Shirer. She told a story about a woman who was in a situation and the woman felt cheated by God. She didn’t understand why He would call her to do something and then place her where she was presently at. One day, she realized the exact spot God had placed her at was making an eternal difference instead of a monetary/earthly difference like she had originally thought. Her thinking quickly shifted and she knew she had been “chosen…not cheated“.
So often, when I am deep in the trenches of heartache or confusion, I feel so cheated by God. But, as soon as the battle ends, the clarity sets in and I can see how divinely chosen I was. It’s been a hard week. The trench was deep and I often feel like the only soldier ready to battle, but I am choosing to remember this is exactly the place God has chosen me to be in.
Matthew 22:14 “For many are called, but few are chosen”.