beauty in broken things

The other night, as I was traveling through some random adoptive blog links, I happened upon a blog titled, "Sea Glass and Jade". It is the blog of a China-adoption-in-progress family that lives in a coastal area, where they are collectors of sea glass (bits of glass, frosted and worn smooth by the surf; also called beach glass). Finding their blog reminded me of a story that I have thought about recording several times, but have avoided. It is a great story, but I hesitate to share it, because it is a rare epiphany moment that is not characteristic of my life. Nevertheless, here's the story:

the background:
The summers of '05, '06, and '07 (before our lives got so crazy) we were blessed to spend a week of vacation on the beaches of the Outer Banks of North Carolina (we love OBX!). The first year, while looking for nice shells, I accidentally stumbled upon my first piece of beach glass. I was hooked. Thereafter, instead of looking for the perfect shell, I scoured the beach, looking for these shiny bits of trash-turned-treasure.

the decision:
In May of '07, after wrestling with the adoption question for about a year, we found a little girl among China's special needs children that launched us into the adoption process. We frantically began our paperwork, trying to beat the initial deadlines to be considered for her. However, the process ended as quickly as it started, as a life event arose that seemed as though it would make an adoption from China only remotely possible in the distant future, if at all. This was very confusing, as we were convinced that the Lord had lead us in this direction.

the struggle:
In June of '07, we went on our planned trip to OBX. For me, this trip was more a time of restlessness and soul-searching, than it was relaxing. Although I spent much time with my family, I found myself wanting to spend time by myself on the beach more than other years. I was wrestling with God over whether I misunderstood, or if I just made a decision based purely on emotions. It was a unanimous family decision, but had I mislead my family? I am not normally a very decisive decision maker. I have struggled most of my adult life with determining the mysteries of God's plan for my life... but adoption was different. I had never been so sure about a decision in my life. I was sure we were supposed to adopt. I was sure it was supposed to be a child from China. And, I was almost sure it was to be a special needs adoption. Yet, the door seemed closed with few human options for opening it.

the story gets good:
As I walked along the edge of the surf, head down, eyes straining to catch the sun glinting off a piece of beach glass, the thought occurred to me that this search was a bit of a parallel to my desires for adoption. The phrase kept coming to me: "beauty in broken things". All around me were beach combers in search of the perfect shell, while my desire was for something that, although beautiful to me, was broken, discarded, and overlooked by most others. I am trying to write this tactfully, without sounding demeaning; but, is this not a picture of the orphaned child, especially those with special needs? They are often broken, discarded, abused, abandoned, or overlooked by most. So, I searched for glass, I turned the phrase over and over in my mind, and I wrestled with the orphan/adoption dilemma: why so many others could, but wouldn't; yet, I would, but it appeared that I couldn't.

the story gets better:
Dylan sometime hunts for beach glass with me. He rarely finds any and gets frustrated easily, because he has difficulty training his eyes to spot the lone piece of glass among the vastness of sand, gravel, and broken shells. The routine is as follows: Dylan: (picking up a bit of colored shell) "Is this a piece, Dad?" Dad: "Nope, that's a broken shell, but keep looking." Toward the end of the week of vacation, Dylan and I were looking for glass, when he picked up a plain white object with smooth edges and a slight curve. He asked me about it and I dismissed it as just another piece of broken shell. As he dropped it, it flipped over and my eye caught an interesting pattern of color on the other side. I picked it up and discovered that it actually wasn't a broken shell, but that it was a piece of the rim of a broken dinner plate. I saw that the pattern of color was a part of the plate's design that had not yet been erased by the surf. What I actually saw in the pattern, though, startled me. Well preserved in blue against white, was a depiction of a small structure and the architecture was characteristic of China! It wasn't an audible voice, but at that very moment, I sensed in my spirit that God had washed up that very specific piece of pottery, in that precise spot on the miles of coastline, for Dylan to find for me. (He can do things like that, you know!) It was as if God used this broken, discarded piece of pottery to confirm to me, "Yes, there is beauty in broken things and I know you cannot see how, but you will adopt a special needs child from China." I have never before or since experienced anything like this.

the bad before good:
I don't wish to go into specifics, but a few months later, another very unforseen life event occured that now made a Chinese adoption possible, once again. While I wish that I could say that this is the happy ending, we aren't there yet. The way in which this occurred was very difficult, and required us to draw more strength from God. I am sure there were many lessons in this whole experience, and I am also sure that many of these lessons are yet to be absorbed.

the happy ending:
In September of '07, we found another little girl among the special needs children of China. She is now our daughter. She is not broken... but she is beautiful!