We got word this week that we are ready to move into the next major step of our adoption. This is one of the longest expected waits before we can bring our girls home. The news was exciting amidst the cloud covering of sickness we’ve all been experiencing here. It was a bit of a refreshing to hear some good news.

The day we received the news, I had trouble sleeping that night. I couldn’t help but think of how hard it might be for these precious girls to leave behind all they know and move to an unknown land. We may know this in the best interest of their future, but they don’t see through that lens. I honestly don’t know yet what lens they are looking through. We know a tiny piece of their history, but I don’t know what that looks like through their eyes.

And I can’t help but think, “How can I possibly do anything to help these girls adjust to such a huge change?” They hardly know me! What makes them think they can trust me after dealing with loss in their own life? How do they really feel about having us pull them from everything they know; even if it isn’t ideal?

Who am I? Who am I to think I can do anything to help these two girls grow and thrive in a new culture with a new family? I am nobody with no special skills. Heck, sometimes I don’t even think I can adequately care for and raise the children I have. I am overwhelmed at the thought of trying to comfort girls who will see me as a stranger to them.

Will what we have to offer be enough to turn around the loss and trauma, even if relatively small, they’ve experienced in their short time on earth?

Simply put, no.

No, I do not have enough to give. No, I will not be enough. No, I do not have the skills that some professionals have to understand how a child’s past effects them. I do not fully understand all the neurological effects that lack of attachement, loss, or trauma cause to the human brain, thus making it more difficult to function in a society “normally.”

I am not enough.

But God?

God is more than enough. He is able to pull my new daughter’s out of miry clay and set their feet upon the Rock. A saying that once was so cliche to me suddenly has new meaning.

He can use my husband and I, and even our children, to meet the very difficult needs of two precious girls He cherishes.

I cannot do anything without his equipping. Anything they need He can provide to them through whatever means He deems necessary. For a season, it looks as if He will be using us. All I need to do is be open and ready and willing.

I can rest knowing that God didn’t call me to do this because He thought I was adequate. He called simply because I was willing.

It’s a scary thing to be willing. But I have no greater peace being exactly where God wants me.

More on how He’s called me to simplify, next week.