Sons and Sheep and Coins...Oh My!

Humor me for a moment as I declare that last Wednesday night, during worship time at ReWired (our Wednesday night worship gathering for youth at Crossroads Church of Walton County), it hit me that I am in a position to compare myself to the Father in the parable of the Prodigal Son. I know, I know. That role is usually reserved for God, but let's start at the beginning of this rabbit trail that happened in my heart and mind.
For those of you who don't know, this past Sunday was "Orphan Sunday". It's a day to raise Christians' awareness about the 147,000,000 orphans in the world and give 'em all a kick in the pants to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Well, we have some stinkin' amazing students at our church who I think seriously out-give and out-serve most Christian adults, so my dear hubby decided that we would do "Orphan Wednesday". How cool is that? I mean, I have been in youth groups where no one would show up for that night. What? No advice on dating or how to make more friends? Like I said, our students are amazing. So naturally my mind was thinking through this beautiful process that we are in...bringing a little girl who currently has no momma or daddy into our family forever. I just got a little dreamy imagining the moment when someone would hand her over to me and I would bawl and smile. Then I thought about bringing her home and my other kids waiting at the airport to see their new sister for the first time. And that's when it hit me. Will my sweet little biological kids ever have a moment when they're sick of all the fuss about their adopted sister? Will they wonder why they always have to hear Mommy and Daddy talk about and pray for money to get their sister home? Will they be jealous of the time we spend filling out paperwork and fundraising and packing to leave? Will the time ever come when they ask, "Why is everything all about getting this girl here?!"
As of now, my girlies are just as excited about getting their sister home as we are. Every time they find a dollar in their pockets, it goes towards the adoption. Every night when we pray and at every blessing, they pray for the money to get her home and that God would take care of her until she's here. They've painted pictures to hang in her room. When they play house, one of their dolls is always their little sister that we adopted. They are just as smitten as we are. But I just started to stress about them getting sick of it all and wondered if it was wrong of me to act any differently about this little one's arrival. I mean, obviously a lot went into getting Alana, Nevaeh, and Pax into the world as well. They cost quite a bit of money, and we decorated rooms for them and bought them clothes and blankies. And I fell asleep quite often dreaming of the moment they would enter the world and I would hold them for the first time. But let's just say that I wasn't Googling about where they were every day. Or searching for any blog or website that pertained to where they came from. Or wearing tshirts and necklaces to raise awareness about them. Nor did I have an app on my iPhone that told me every day what the weather was like where they were. It's just different, and I started to think that maybe I need to tone it down around my children so that they aren't like, "Wow. Mom sure does love our brown baby. Guess we're too boring and white for her.".
Now in my rational mind, I really don't think that would ever happen. Just because I know their hearts are so into this. But, you know how a mother's mind can be. And God was so gracious to me in that moment. As I sang (or at least as close as I can get to singing!), the Holy Spirit brought to my mind the story of the prodigal son. Usually when I read that parable I wonder, "Am I being like the older brother lately? Do I resent the grace that God is bestowing on someone else?". That's usually my application. But last Wednesday night, I immediately told God, "I see. I know how that father felt.". I now know what it's like to feel like there is a sense of urgency to get one child home. And I understand that what might be perceived as favoritism is actually just the knowledge that my bios are safe and with me. All of me and all that I have is available to Alana and Nevaeh and Pax at any time. But this sweet little African princess of mine is far away from me and my protection right now, and that calls for action. The parable of the lost coin, or the 99 sheep that the shepherd was willing to leave for a while to get that one sheep home. Oh, MAN, do I get it. I have already begun to feel guilt about leaving my American babies for a week when we go and pick our little one up. It will be the longest I've gone without seeing them EVER. But I've just been saying over and over to God, "Thank You, thank You, thank You. Thank You soooo much for relieving me of that guilt and reminding me that it doesn't imply in the least that I love my bios less when I am going crazy pursuing this lost, lonely girl." (I mean, I KNOW I don't love them less...there's just the worry that it will be perceived that way.) Nope. The shepherd didn't love the one lost sheep more than the 99. It's just that the 99 were already safe and sound with their protector, and his love for that one was great enough to cause him to single-mindedly pursue it.
The parable of the lost coin is probably the one that I can picture myself in the most. Probably because: 1) the main character is a woman, and 2) I lose things a lot and have to "sweep the house and seek diligently until I find it." But it is SUCH a beautiful picture to me now that I'm on this journey. She had 10 coins, and 1 turns up missing. All of the coins were of equal value, but only one was missing. So only one got searched for in a panicked frenzy and only one caused her to "call together her friends and neighbors, saying, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.'"
All of this has left me with two things. First of all, an immense amount of gratitude to my Father for His crazy love for me. I mean, the first adoption journey that I was a part of was when He adopted me. And all of the love and urgency and pursuit and intensity and thinking of nothing else that I have shown for my girl...it pales in comparison to the love and urgency and pursuit and intensity and focus of our Heavenly Father. Every day as I run to the mailbox hoping and praying that our I600 approval is in it, it crosses my mind that God was thinking of me waaay before I was a part of His family too. What a great God!
The second thing that I am left with is the hope that Alana, Nevaeh, and Pax are much more gracious and loving and accepting than the prodigal son's big brother was. But if they have their moments of pouting or anger, I pray that God will help me to be as merciful as the father in the story was. That I would be able to impart to them the understanding that "they are always with me, and all that is mine is theirs. But it was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your sister was dead, and is alive; she was lost, and is found."