I told you so.

I told you so. 

Honestly, my biggest fear is receiving this sentiment from people once our kids get here and it's freaking hard for us. Throughout our process, I've heard/seen it all: the horror stories, concerned looks, reminders of baggage, reminders that babies are easier, reminders kids are expensive, reminders that I won't be their only mom and they may have struggles and I'm too young to be their mom and I'm not the same race and it will strain my marriage and that I can't save them.
(Run on sentence on purpose becaus that's how all these reminders feel - endless and just on and on they go.)

I'm worried that when I'm asked, "how are you?"and I give an honest answer about the pain and hurt and sorrow that comes when you're loving children you didn't raise, that people will look and feel and  respond with an "I told you so." They may not say it out loud, but I know the exact look that will be on their faces. They'll feel sad for me, instead of supporting me. I'm worried people will mistake my struggle for regret, my sacrifice for doubt I made the right choice, my burden for my kids for an "oops."

Please know now-- our choice will not be a mistake. We are aware of how hard this will be. We also know we can't know how hard it will be until it happens. But we aren't signing up without knowing the risks. We aren't naive. We didn't decide on this spontaneously because we think it's gonna be fun. We are scared too, intimidated, but anticipatory. We believe God will show up and work through the pain. We believe he is enough, even when we are not. You didn't tell us anything we didn't already know.

I told you so couldn't be farther from the truth.

This is my feeble plea ahead of our kids coming home-- begging, pleading for you not to respond to us this way. Please don't look at me with pity. Please don't whisper in your heart that we just weren't ready for this. No one is ready. It's never easier. Love requires sacrifice and we are willing to stand in the gap and be the ones to take a hit for the sake of some kids. Don't feel bad for us. Stand with us. Let it hurt you a little too. Let it hurt because our world is broken and kids have to be adopted, not because the Lonadier's have less "comfort." Don't be sad for that. We are willingly and happily giving up comfort. We don't want pity. We want and need people to empower us and build us up and cheer us on and say, "This is not in vain! This matters! You have done the RIGHT thing! Love hurts but it's worth it!"

You get the point. And to be honest, God has emboldened me to speak up. If I feel an I told you so, I'm praying I have the courage to call it out and straight up rebuke it. They're not a mistake. They weren't too soon or too much for me or too great a risk. NOPE. I won't receive that spirit. I don't know for sure who they are but I love them passionately. And already, without them being home, they have made me BETTER. Already, I'm stronger and softer and less selfish. So if pain makes me more like that, more like Jesus, bring it on. I want that. I'm asking for it.

I told you so can take a hike.