Chapter Seven - Red Flags

The flickering hope of adoption was once again a flame. 

First,

we met with our foster worker to re-open our license for domestic adoption. 

No problem! 

Then we think to ourselves, "Why not apply for international adoption too?"

  Leave no stone unturned!  Our son or daughter could be anywhere!

Now, 

I don't know if this decision was communicated between the two adoption departments,

but we never heard another word about our foster license again.

NOT.A.WORD.

  Meanwhile, our application for international adoption was accepted

and the wheels begin to roll in that direction.

Next difficult decision--what country? 

Each country has a different set of requirements.

After doing some research and asking ourselves some tough questions,

we felt led to adopt from Ethiopia.

 Red Flag Number ONE--the initial Ethiopia application was denied.

  I had filled in too many "no" blanks in the section
where you agree to accept health risks.

  I  honestly did not know what half of the diseases were,
so "no" seemed like the safe answer. 

Apparently ignorance is never the safe answer. 

After our ever so patient adoption worker explained the issues and we willingly accepted the possible risks, 

our second application attempt was accepted.

Red Flag Number TWO--we felt uneasy. 

Have you ever had that feeling

when you want to believe something to be true and right,

so you just keep telling yourself that it is,

but every time you think it 

or say it out loud,

you squirm a little inside?

Yep.  That was us and Ethiopia.

I can't tell you how discouraged we were at this point.

  I mean really.  
Again?

 

   Our minds were mush. We hit the brakes.

 I emailed our worker with some questions. 

She responded with words that became a turning point in our journey.

"I would certainly recommend viewing our waiting kids if you have not already."

What?

 Wait a minute.

  Why did she say that?
What about Ethiopia?

I blew it off as a passing remark.

  At this point,
the Mr. and I don't even want to think about it or talk about it.

  So we don't, at least not to each other.

Two weeks went by without much ado,

but we were both individually finding adoption
in our face everywhere we turned.

  The radio, the paper, magazines, conversations, blogs, facebook, television, you name it.
We may have hit the brakes, but God didn't.
 

  I kept thinking about looking at the kids on the waiting list.

I had looked before.

  Maybe I should just look again.

  No harm there.

So I did.



And there he was.