Zimbabwe: The Anguish Of Misplaced Hope
So tonight I go to sleep in peace. God, the sovereign ruler of all the world is in control. He’s got this. I do not know where Zimbabwe will go from here, whether we will live in a free and prosperous country again, but I know that God’s got a handle on it.
That monumental exchange when your son became my son was more than two years ago. I have not written once. In all honesty, I don’t give you much thought at all. I promised myself that I would. In fact, before yours became mine, in a sentimental-yet-sincere letter to you, I promised that I would remember you, that I would hold you high in my (our?) son’s life. I know that you never read the letter, but still. I promised you. I promised me.
My journey into motherhood, like so many of my journeys, started with Jesus.
Jesus gently leading me to acknowledge the loss of never going to be able to
have biological children. Jesus leading me to mourn, to cry, to surrender and to
allow Him to heal me. This was hard, but when it was done I was free, free to
move on, free to adopt.
I was so excited to be going to my new home with my new family who had chosen to love me and make me part of them. I now have my own testimony of God’s grace and salvation in my life. As I look back, I can see God’s hand and how He was caring and protecting me. My identity is Mika Hope Johnson – I am half Coloured, half Indian and completely White. But it is God’s adoption of me that has given me my true identity.