There’s a confusion that sets
in – when you have become parents, but not yet “parenting.” Our children are an ocean away. We look at their pictures, laugh at the
videos, and talk about all the things we’re going to do with them when they’re with
us. We’ve been doing that for 2.5
years. I have a new found respect for all
parents – the ones with their children under their roof, ones with children
in other places, or ones who are waiting for children in some way. There is much confusion about parenting,
especially when you have absolutely zero control. I am guessing this time in our lives is
preparing us for the reality that at some point our boys will need to be
individuals- facing their own battles, learning their own lessons, making their
own decisions. But at 9 and 13? Every day I am with them in Haiti, they ask
“you leave tomorrow, Mom?” Every day is
a preparation for the most devastating pain of separation. Each of us psyche ourselves up for the
heartache and let down – like when we ask God for that one thing we need really
bad, testifying that we’ll stop sinning and cussing if we could just get it NOW
(whole-heartedly knowing we won’t get it right away). That’s where we all are now. We’re dancing to Michael Jackson songs one minute,
singing Dixie Chicks “Godspeed” as we lay our heads down at night, and praying
each time that God sees our desperate plea to be together – these boys are
Ramey boys. They are Todd and Laura’s boys.
My friends tell me about
their biological children and how they exhibit so much of each of them – look
like them, act like them, have similar personalilties. Well, our boys don’t
look like us, but they are Rameys/Melroses.
Wilnes makes friends with everyone.
He likes to tell people about Jesus.
When he’s sad, he can’t contain it – he’ll find a place away from
everyone to get it all out. And he can’t
wait to learn something new. Woody is quiet yet knows exactly when to speak
up. He has the voice of an angel and
takes pride in owning his Mama’s Bible.
He sometimes has a slight stutter – his sweet anxious moments are
evident of his desire to do something well.
Wendy wants to be friends with everyone and be happy all the time. He wants to dance, sing, eat a lot, put on
sunglasses, and laugh. And together, wow, I have never seen brothers be such a
team. They work together in such a precious way. They really look out for each
other. They are genuinely concerned for each other and their family.
I know we slack on blog
posts. To be honest, we feel discouraged
not having any updates – everyone wants to know when they will be home. We do too.
While we still believe our children will be with us, we are exhausted
and frustrated. We have tried to keep
recent posts more about them – so you can get to know them as we do. However, this post is more about sharing our
very desperate and broken hearts. It may
be really more for us than anyone else.
And someday we want our boys to know this part of the story too.
If you’ve followed our story
from the first post, then you know we’ve known our sons for about 2.5 years now
and have been in the process of adopting them for almost 2 years. People keep asking why it’s taking us so
long. It’s complicated to answer, but
the short version of the story is we are stuck because of an antiquated law in
Haiti that states adoptive parents must be 35 and married 10 years. We moved forward with our process, first and
foremost, because we know these are our sons and are willing to fight for
them. Second, we had knowledge that
previous “underage” families made it through the process with Presidential
Dispensation as long as they were found fit to adopt. Third, we were told the law has been on the
table to be changed (age 30, married 5 years).
Between those three things the only thing we know for sure is we are
still fighting.
So, what do we do in the
meantime? What do we tell our boys? What do we tell people who ask? We aren’t posting from a place of
hopelessness, but more in a place of desperately seeking prayers and support
from people who love our children and want them home as much as we do. We still BELIEVE. We know the timing will be right, but we also
get so tired of hearing that – “It’s all in God’s timing.” We know that. Yes, we trust God’s timing and His care for
them while we wait. At the same time, we
hurt. We are sad. We are grieving for our children. And it dawned on me recently, that’s what God
knows most about. Not only did he
sacrifice His son, but he watches all of His children struggle and hurt
daily. He is not physically with us, but
He is always present. I really can trust
that He knows our hurting parent hearts.
He knows our boys’ hurting hearts.
He knows all the reasons why we are stuck. He knows the time when we will be in joyful
celebration of bringing our sons home.
So, we put our hope in that. We
keep believing. We keep going to visit
them and reminding them they are our precious sons, but most importantly, they
are God’s children. And so are we. He does not leave any of us as orphans.
I am attaching a link to a
friend’s blog here. Their family is in the same situation (under 35) and adopting
from the same orphanage as our boys. She
was recently asked, “so when will you give up?”
Her response is beautiful, so I wanted to share it here in case any of
you have wondered this about the Rameys.
We share her heart on this. There
will be no giving up.