My daughter asked me not long ago how often I planned on blogging. I told her every day. Obviously horrified, she wondered, “For how long?” I said, “From now on.” At which point, she declared, “That is officially the most retarded thing I have ever heard.” After lecturing her about the insensitive and improper use of the word ‘retarded’, which has, of late, become her favorite insult, I attempted to explain why I committed to such an undertaking in the first place, why I would voluntarily strive for a finish line that keeps moving every time I reach it.
When my husband and I were going through the process to adopt, we worked a year to get licensed and another two years to find the right match. That first year, well-meaning friends and family inquired often, “So how is the adoption process going?” The next year, they started wondering, “What’s taking so long?” The third year, they didn’t bring up the subject at all, many assuming we just weren’t committed to adopting, else why would we still be childless after three whole years?
Then we discovered our now-daughter on our state photo listings and made an inquiry. Finally, we had some news to share. But it took months for us to get picked to be her parents and nearly another year to finalize her adoption. Obviously, something was wrong, else why all the delay?! Right? Right??! Well, as my best friend once said, “She’s a girl, not a puppy!” These things take time. Kids don’t sit in a pound waiting to get rescued, nor is it possible to go pick a few up on a whim like Gru in Despicable Me or Daddy Warbucks in Annie.
Very little in life worth having comes without much plodding and enduring. Now those same people who wondered what took so long when we adopted are starting to ask, “So how’s the writing going?” Can I just tell them to come back in three years?