Another Sister.

My heart has been heavy for three days. I have been checking my cell phone at least every hour, just in case I missed the call. My feet race straight to the kitchen to check for the blinking red light on our message machine any time I come home from being out. 

The phone call hasn't come. And I keep wondering why. 

Will it ever come?

Last year, we had the privilege of meeting our sons' birth family in Ethiopia. I can still feel the tight embrace of Kai and Noah's oldest sister as she clung to me and rocked from side to side. I can see the hope and relief and joy shining in their birth father's eyes. We learned more than we could have hoped to learn last year about our sons' life before us. We met their two younger brothers, brothers we had not known even existed. And we learned about an older sister who had been adopted to America a few months before Kai and Noah.

I took notes with a shaking hand on the piece of paper full of questions I had printed out before we left for our trip. 

Last week, I was working through yet another pile of miscellaneous papers that needed to be tossed, filed, or otherwise dealt with--and that paper full of notes came to my attention. My first thought was, 'I'd better type these up and save them before I can't read my writing anymore.' So I dropped the rest of the pile where it was in my office and got on my laptop. I typed up the notes, and was reminded about this little girl, my sons' biological sister, somewhere in America. 

I felt a sudden sense of urgency. I needed to start the search. We had an amazing story to share with her family, plus photos to boot! I contacted our adoption agency first, and they agreed to start searching to see if the child had been placed through them. Then I put the request out on Facebook. I watched with excitement as news spread and I began to receive e-mails from strangers with tips on places to search and people to contact. I began to contact other adoption agencies that were active in Ethiopia six years ago. 

And then, the very next day, our agency called me back. "We found her." I was shocked, elated, and just a little guarded. What if the family wasn't interested in connecting? What if we had just passed along news to them that they didn't really want to hear? 

Two days later, at 8:30 a.m. on Friday, I got another phone call from our agency. "I have been in contact with [the girl's] mother, and I expect you'll be hearing from her soon." He could not pass along any information about her. I don't know how old their sister is. I don't know what her American name is. I don't even know what state they live in. But our case worker assured me that the mother was open to connecting with us, and she intended on giving us a call. 

I kept my cell phone charged and by my side at all times. Sure she would call at any moment. I put myself in her shoes...yes, I would definitely call as soon as I could. I reasoned that perhaps she was waiting until the evening, after her daughter was in bed. When the call didn't come Friday, I waited all day Saturday. I reasoned that she was trying to find a good time to call, or she had busy weekend plans. Surely she would call Sunday. 

Still no call. And now I do have to face the possibility that she may not call. She may want to wait to share this kind of information with her daughter. She may never want to share it. I would love some prayer over this situation. Prayer that her heart will be stirred. Prayer that she will desire connection with us. Prayer that I will have peace in the wait, whether it be another day or another year or another decade.