Letters to Camille

So, I stopped blogging once we started getting closer to the date of adoption because of some of the uncertainties that were to follow. Sometimes, I am overcome with self preservation for fear of what others think or pride and not knowing the right things to say. I think I have felt somewhat unworthy of this road that God has put us on because we are so stinking blessed and we don't deserve one ounce of that.

After we found out that our birth mother, Camille, had chosen us to adopt her son, I started writing letters to her. Because of the confidentiality I couldn't send anything, so I started a journal dated back to February 14, 2011, the Monday her choice was final with us. I would write to her about her, about me and our family and I would pray with her on paper. I often write my own prayers down on paper and thought I'd just include her in the dialogue. In the letters, I told her that we wanted to meet her and that we wanted to love on her and ultimately that we as a family were praying for an opportunity to share the gospel with her, as she has suffered significant loss in her young life and doesn't really have any sort of support.

We were blessed through generosity of many of you who are reading this, to be able to go through so quickly with this adoption. We felt that God was almost pushing us here because of the providence and provision. I would joke with James that we have just been standing on Mt. Moriah for the last 9 months and he has provided every stinking thing we needed.

Well, I found out a few weeks into writing the letters, that Camille had no intention of meeting us and really didn't want any sort of relationship. I respect that as a mother and a human. Each person grieves differently and she was offering us the most precious gift: a human life. She chose not to take that life, but rather to nurture it, keep it and give it; I would argue the hardest choice a mother would ever have to make. I quit writing after that because it sort of hurt me to write to this girl who would never read these letters.

In 'Fields of the Fatherless' by Tom Davis, one woman says this, "There is a price to pay for being obedient to God's call to care for the fatherless. The price your heart. The heart that was once mine, no longer belongs to me." As a believer and follower of Christ, I believe that we are called to take care of the widows, the orphans and the strangers. Our adoption has not been some sort of feel good humanitarian mission so we can 'save a child' from the projects or from poverty. We feel that this is a mandate our faith has placed on us. Yes, we want more children. Yes, this has become the desire of our heart, but we feel this was placed here by our King, our Creator.

I need to qualify this quickly. I do not think that you have to adopt a child to be obedient to the calling. My friend Michelle says that "if you're not going, you should be sending", meaning that we can help others to adopt financially, by encouragement, or any other way. Other ways I think we can follow the call to the widows, orphans and strangers are: help the single mom by babysitting her kids so she can go grocery shopping without screaming little ones, love on those widows who are lonely and sad, or maybe treating strangers, sojourners and homeless like they have souls, rather than those gross people who should shower and not ruin your dining experience by standing in front of the posh restaurant. As a family, we felt that this is how we can be obedient to the calling of the Lord that was already placed upon our hearts.

So, I started using the notebook for my own notes, and brought it with to Memphis as my personal journal to keep writing in. Our birth mom, Camille, had this beautiful baby boy at 8:26 a.m. April 8, 2011. He weighed 6 lbs 8 oz and was 19.5 inches long. If you saw the pictures, you saw that he was perfect with a full head of thick hair.

We were prepared to take him home as ours, love on him, and introduce him to his new brother and sister who were awaiting his arrival. We were able to see him for 2 hours on Friday and we sang to him, cried over him and loved him. We were asked not to return to the hospital until some of Camille's family were gone. The next morning, he hadn't eaten. Had he eaten, he would have been discharged into our care. But instead, he stayed and Camille wanted to see him. You probably saw the pictures, wouldn't you want to see him again? He ended up staying with her for the remainder of the day and as the day passed, she could not bear to give him to someone else.

She wanted to bring him home and introduce him to his brother and sister, awaiting their mommy's return. We received the official call last night over supper. We stood outside a Mexican restaurant in southwest Memphis while Camille cried into the phone and apologized for wasting our time. We had been praying for an opportunity to share the gospel with this girl, we just didn't realize this was how it was going to happen. I held the phone and bawled, while James talked. He shared with her that we weren't mad and that she is not a waste of our time.

James told her why we cared, that we were adopted into Christ's family. That Jesus is the perfect older brother who sacrificed so that we could be co-heirs with Him. He shared with her how we know that even though this baby will not be ours, that we feel that it was God's divine providence that brought us there to her and that we would always have this bond. He let her know that she is a part of the Lord's redeeming story and that because Jesus loves her, she can find freedom in his finished work on the cross.

We said our goodbyes and went back inside. I walked to the bathroom and sat in a stall and bawled while James braved the seats in the well lit restaurant. We were both pretty tired and spent a lot of the night re-capping God's story that we are just a part of. We do not feel wronged or forsaken. This isn't about us, it's about the fact that we have a redeemer and we know that this was not an adoption story gone bad. My other friend Michelle texted me last night and said to "cry on His shoulder, and lay at His feet." So, we weep. We mourn. We rejoice.

I took out the notebook last night and ripped out my to do lists, my notes and markings that wouldn't make sense and started another letter to Camille. We gave her our blessing, not that she needed it. I feel that it is Christ within me to press on and let it go. We went to church this morning with our social worker and were so blessed. This A29 church has an adoption ministry and our social worker was able to connect with them and also to go and be fed herself.

We bought the Storybook bible for Camille's other two children and sent it off with a blankie and the notebook of the letters to Camille. She called while we were eating to thank us. "It's not us," James said, "it's Him."

So, we are sitting in the hotel room, without much more to say right now. Crying a little, laughing a little and recognizing that we are at this point, just part of His story.