So as some of you know, we've had a run of bad luck here. From the time that DH left to go overseas, we have had more than our share of injuries and sickness with the children:
Four staples in the head.
Chipped front tooth.
Injured ankle-first thought was a sprain, then x-rays, then ended up at the pediatric orthopaedist, then walked out before even seeing the doctor.
Now in the midst of my mom's total knee replacement (she live with us), they all have a bad bacterial infection. VERY. BAD. Not to mention that it took over three full days for the pediatrician's office to get back to us that it is, in fact, bacterial and they are calling in an antibiotic for DS1. That's three full days of temps running above 102 degrees (four if you count the day prior to seeing the doctor). Well the other two are sick now too and they can't see them till tomorrow or Monday so they have to wait on antibiotic. Ugh.
So between going to urgent care, radiology, and different doctors offices, we've had nary a dull moment without an appointment to be at. It's more trips to the Dr. than we went to in all the previous three years together.
"What's this all about?" you ask.
I think it's about fighting God's war. I've heard other people talk about this but never experienced it myself. That's probably because prior to the past few years of my life, I haven't really been a soldier in God's army. I believed. I was baptized. But it's only relatively recently that I've stepped up to to the plate, really started following God's word and living God's will. I've started getting more involved in the children's program at church. DH and I have taken charge of our finances, after all, how can we have the means to do the Lord's work if we have debt? We also stepped up to be group leaders at our church. Now this whole adoption calling. Not that I think we are doing anything extraordinary, but we are doing the best we can to get to where we believe God wants us to be.
It seems that once you make a big decision to follow God, that the enemy starts to take you seriously, and if at all possible, discourage you. That's what's going on here. Sat*n knows DH is gone. He knows that we are planning this adoption of several kids. He knows that the thought of half a dozen kids can be daunting. He has decided to play on that seed of doubt. He's trying to make me doubt whether I can handle that many kids, whether this is all a mistake. For a little while, it seemed like it was starting to work. But now, at the end of the ninth week, I feel empowered. Nine weeks of one pain in the bazooka after another. Sure it could have been worse, there's a lot more that could have happened. But I feel really good about being able to deal with what was dished out. So there you have it. Strengthened. Refined by fire. I'm sure there's more fire, more refining necessary. But still, I'm in a good place for 63 days without my husband.
Oh, and I found out, those girls weren't actually matched with a family. Their file was sent to another adoption agency. This time they're listed as one sibling group, not two. What do I make of that? I don't know, I'll get back to you. But I will add them back on my prayer list.