Beauty from the Ashes

I watch as the colorless roadsides flash pass in a droning blur as I drive down the paved road. I count the billows of smoke that rest heavy above raging flames engulfing wild grass. My children make a game of it, trying to be the first to spot the bush fire as we travel from our home in a quiet Northern Ugandan village to the bustling capital city of Kampala. 

Though we are very familiar with the traditional approach of burning of land to prepare for the upcoming planting season, I can’t help but hold my breath every time I see the small patches of the lingering green leftover from last rainy season be extinguished too. We experience months of falling ash yearly, just as one would step outside and try to catch snowflakes gently twirling on their way down, in other parts of the world. 

But, not here. 

Here, we are deep into the driest of times where terracotta dirt coats everything with a thick layer of its dusting daily. We are where the heat radiates off the sun, forcing us to hide away in the shelter of our handmade red-brick home, only to emerge once the sun begins its quick evening decent. Surrounding us, is a daily reminder of what has been lost as layers of blackened embers rest in the aftermath of the destruction. 

This is the time of year that I really begin to ache for the first rains to wash away all the grit and with it bring back the abundant life that remains hidden until the right time. Yet, dry season seems to linger longer, especially as we struggle waiting for our own situation to change - an adoption process that seems to be going nowhere and with six years having come and gone, we have grown weary and depleted under the weight of this waiting. 

Uncertain waiting. 

A waiting with unseen growth or movement in any direction. We have remained still for so long, transplanted in a foreign land, with roots left raw from fighting fires that have swept through and leveled the small progress we’ve made, over and over again. Yet, I’m reminded of why we are traveling to the city. We will be meeting with an Adoption Panel, who will follow up after a 4 year hiatus and hopefully give us their recommendation so we can proceed to court to finalize our impending adoptions. We’ve got a carload of our children’s extended family members traveling with us, willing to show their support.

It’s been weeks of gathering every single document potentially needed, meetings with social workers and waiting earnestly for yet another lengthly home study report to be written. There has been small glimpses of movement in the right direction, but my heart battles against the flicker of hope beginning to gain momentum. Like panic setting in when the dark night suddenly becomes alive with the glowing of flames close by - I’m afraid to watch everything burn up before us again and see that glimpse of hope be consumed again. We’ve been rooted in the same place for so unbelievably long, its hard to remember that seasons don’t last forever even if they have proved to undesirably linger on.

The closer we travel to the outskirts of the city, the less burning we begin to see. Instead, the tan and reddish earth appears a little greener, with new life peeking through. The wild grass is ruddy, keeping roots below the surface and able to rejuvenate and grow life with fierce resilience. Resting in the heat and waiting to push forward when the right time comes. Oh, how I long to not fear the refining of this waiting season, but to remain firm and to continue growing strong. Like a wild garden of green grown in His grace, I desire to remain steadfast, clinging to His promises and not burning in the blaze of overwhelm that threatens me. A deep desire to find rest in the unseen work of His hands, planted well and to allow peace to flood every situation - is what He is tenderly growing in me.

We eventually merge from the rolling landscape into the chaos of weaving traffic and settle in to our Airbnb for the night. My heart bristling with nervous tension and after a meager nights sleep, we claim our place in line and wait to be called in. 

More waiting.

My heart beats faster as we are lead into the large meeting room and take the hot seat. We are asked questions, extended family members speak, and things take a turn for the worse. Our children are asked to leave the room and like a wildfire threatening to burn everything up once again, my heart fights the desire to retreat from the impending damage to our already lengthy process. My husband and I know the cost of these detrimental words spoken and struggle to keep the tears from spilling uncontrollable from my eyes.  

And then something shifts without any notice.

Like a wind fighting the flames and pushing it back. Right there in the expectation of hope deferred once again, we hear words as healing as rain pouring down on the dry, cracked earth below. Against all odds, our family has been approved to move forward to finalize our family in court. My ears ring with the sweet sound, but my heart can’t quick grasp this growing feeling of awe in the middle of the pressure that’s all of a sudden been released. We shuffle out of the room as quickly as we can, with hearts bursting. I reassure my daughter who can’t keep quiet with the excitement and tears begin to stream down both our faces. 

We still have a ways to go until the view surrounding us is in full bloom but this is our glimpse of green pushing through the layers and years of endless paperwork, uncovering buried truth, unexpected twists and turns, hope deferred, promises delayed, yet holding firm and with hearts still trusting in the One who can bring beauty up from the ashes.