Eventually our chat led them to share about how they couldn't bear to leave her once they had met her and so he went back and forth to keep working while she stayed in country for three months awaiting their court date. Everything they did revolved around bringing her home. Every thought. Every dollar.
My heart couldn't help but ache a little. I shared about our road toward adoption in the DRC and the heartbreak of corruption and the disappointment of not knowing how our story will end. I wondered to myself about the purpose of that long-lived dream so abruptly dashed and about how long we will have to wait for another chance to fulfill it.
I didn't have to wait long, though, to have my envy broken up by the sweet whisper of reassurance: It's all the same work. It all flows from the same source. Children in families. Your family. Theirs. Or their own. Not in orphanages. Not in brothels. It's all family preservation work. It's all orphan care.
Even if our family hasn't yet grown through adoption, we carry the faces and names and stories of the young girls we've met with us. We bear the hope they will one day know the safety of family once again. For some their family is the reason they have been trafficked and going home is no longer an option. For others, the road home is long and full of obstacles and yet worth the collaboration of many organizations to see it through.