Watching the High Park fire scorch its way through Poudre Canyon, one of my most favorite places on earth, over the last few weeks has been a heartrending reminder of how little control we have over the forces of nature. As of today, thankfully, it is at least 60% contained. Of course, those once-forested ridges and hillsides that line the glistening and pure waters of the Poudre River, so graceful and at peace, will present a bleakness beyond words for years to come. But it’s somewhat comforting to know that nature has her way of recovering, albeit slowly. So I’ll just keep my faith in that; and I’ll take some solace in the hope that someday those green shoots will reappear, and our kids will embrace that landscape and feel the energy there pulsing through them like we always did whenever we ventured up into that majestic canyon.
Okay, so we anticipated some periods of not-so-optimistic thinking as we embarked on this journey, and there have been some. Honestly, over the last few weeks and days we’ve been in and out of emotional slumps. Along with those happy scenes of running giggling through garden sprinklers in soggy diapers, we’ve also wondered when that dream will come true for us. And we’ve had images in our minds of all those post cards we’ve handed out getting an absolute number of ZERO viewings from prospective birth mothers – they lay buried under piles of office paper or languish under a stack of dirty dishes on a kitchen counter somewhere, or maybe they were accidently tossed out the window of a moving car and are doing cartwheels down the street (hey I guess there’s at least a shred of hope in that scenario).
So, in order to offset that negativity over the last couple of Fridays, I’ve spent my lunchtime hour behind a closed door in one of my office conference rooms, calling a list of community support centers that I printed off the internet. Code named “Operation Outreach”, this has consisted of me making cold calls to complete strangers in places that, I have begun to understand, normally don’t receive calls from expectant adoptive parents, and getting some rather lukewarm responses.
…Until today. At last, there was some success on the front! It came in the form of a wonderfully warm and understanding voice. Like a breath of fresh air, one counselor at a pregnancy center in Northern Colorado was open and receptive …and even interested in learning more. Now THAT is how this is supposed to go.
So today is a big day. We’re mailing out a post card in response to an actual request (And yes, even if I solicited that request it still counts). So yay! “Yay yay yay!” as they say. Here’s to more of that kind of response from folks who might like to hear our story, pass it along to others who will open our profile to learn about us, and then on to others and finally to the person who decides that we’re who they’ve been looking for on their journey.
The forces of nature that lead people to each other are incomprehensible, but fascinating. Every person who shares our story or opens their heart to hear it is exerting some control over the forces of nature, squelching the fire, and playing a participatory role in a beautiful story of life by bringing our family together. There are down times when it just feels like there is no movement occurring in the universe and the cards are sitting in an empty room. It’s hard to explain but we really can feel the cosmic inertia, and the stillness is deafening. Those are particularly low moments. But periods of scorched earth can result in renewal. Good news and a helpful voice on the phone are like nutrients being driven back into the ground to replenish the soil for green shoots to come. I can see them already.
