tiny little flip flops make me cry

So I know this blog has become kind of random.  I dont really have a direction for it - but not ready to let it close.  I use it when I have an adoption fundraising idea to share. I use it to share prayer requests and updates for our little Roo. And in this case - as a place for me to write down my thoughts in the hopes they will stop torturing me inside my head and heart.  I don't really expect anyone to really understand, but prayers are appreciated.

As I have said numerous times, I believe we are where God intended us to be all along.  I look at our little 2 month old with all of her challenges and all of her promise and know that she is who God destined to be our daughter.  I know our journey to 'Claire' was always our journey to her.

That being said, I have a weird story that I just need to get off my chest.

Last weekend we went to La Jolla CA and there was an awesome sale at a local surf shop.  We dont ever buy anything unless it is on sale - and 80% off is my kind of sale.  We got brother a button down top and big sister a pair of flip flops two sizes to big in hopes they will work for next year.  We also found baby sister the cutest darn flip flops on the planet.

They are teeny tiny, size baby 5 (about right for a one year old) in hot pink and black & white zebra stripes - and for $4 she just had to have them.

Randomly as I checked out I noticed myself fighting back tears.  I am really good at not crying when my heart really wants to. I've never felt comfortable crying in front of people and can usually fight it off. I was able to suck it down, but it was a fight.

Buying those tiny flip flops for my third child just reminded me...yet again - that there is some kind of weird purgatory inbetween where our journey to Claire abruptly ended to where our successful adoption of our little Roo began.  And dang it - it just wont go away.

'Claire' never would have worn flip flops.  They wouldn't have looked right, and they probably would not have offered the support she would need for her special little feet.

So now I see those little shoes in Roo's closet and they torture me.  I know there are several families that were mid journey to Claire's country when laws started changing.  I know some have been blessed to bring them home.  I know several are in the same boat we are.  We loved a specific child we never met, we worried for and prepared for their very specific special needs only to find out they weren't meant for us.

I don't know - I am writing because I needed to organize it outside of my head, but also maybe to encourage others to know that someone else understands. 

Thanks for reading my random story and praying if you feel inclined.