The Last Leg

The Last Leg

We are awaiting one more approval before we receive our court date. It’s now been five years since we first started this journey. We’ve done a half-dozen home studies, put together two complete dossiers, had our fingerprints taken more times than I could count, and the folder that holds all our adoption related papers now weighs more than six pounds. We are currently updating our home study again in order to extend our I-171 for the fourth time.

This last leg feels like it might kill me. Through tears I told my friend who has walked the entire five years beside me that it feels like mile 23 of my marathon. As we came up on mile marker 23, the pacer I had stayed with the whole race told me that if I wanted to I could pick up my pace for the end. I told him I wanted to give it one more mile. I knew I could keep a faster pace for a little over two miles, but I wasn’t sure about three. I stayed with him for one more mile, and at mile 24 I gave my legs every remaining bit of energy I could muster.

“The scariest thing,” I told my friend yesterday, “is that I don’t know if I have two miles left or ten miles left. I feel like I’m sprinting, giving it everything I have but I don’t know where the victory is.” I don’t know when we will get the call that we have court approval. The only predictable thing about international adoption is that it isn’t predictable.

This morning I received a text from my friend, “There’s a picture of that sweet girl on my treadmill that I see every single day. You and I both know that the last stretch of the race is the hardest. I’m running it with you. And if you start to slow down, or can’t see the end, I will hold your hand. We are on mile 24, and I’m with you and for you. Your faith is going to be made sight. And if we have to crawl on our hands and bloody knees over that finish line–the race will be won.”

We would appreciate your continued prayers, especially since the crossing of one finish line means the beginning of another journey–the journey of helping our daughter heal and process and grow as she lives out the incredible story God is writing through her life.

“For am I already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” 2 Timothy 4:6-7


*photo by my dear friend Robyn Smith of

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