Sukkot: I can only decorate the present

This week Kate and friends built a hut in our backyard for sukkot. The colorful fabric walls and leafy roof remind us of the forty years the Israelites wandered the desert, our meandering relationship with life and Judaism. It is an agricultural festival, more proof that we are powerless, dependent upon a fickle earth that determines its own fate.

The sukkah is an impermanent structure. It is supposed to be able to fall down (and we unfortunately demonstrated that fact during the building process, before we reinforced the walls). You live and eat in the sukkah, joining together with friends and family. The sukkah connects us to our ever-changing landscape, the unpredictableness of life and weather, and reminds us of the luxurious nature of modernity. 

Today our social worker emailed us with an update. The two girls, 5 and 8, are no longer available for adoption. One of the two 11 year old girls is matched with another family. The other 11 year old, the one we took a chance on with limited information in her profile, she is still available. Our social worker submitted our home study for her. She said that the matching decision takes, on average, two to four weeks. Again, we are waiting.

This process is an ever-changing landscape, where you can’t let your heart imagine too much, but also can’t hold on to your heart too tightly. From four choices there were three and now there is one. Maybe next week we’ll take next steps. Or maybe next week there will be zero, and again we’ll wait for the “right” child’s profile to be found among the stacked papers. 

It feels like the sukkah’s walls are caving under the weight of powerlessness. There is nothing I can do to help quickly find our kid. I can only wait, reflect on my own impermanence, and luxuriate in our last days/months/years of childlessness. Like my father, I was destined to be a parent, but I cannot write a child into my destiny, I can only beautifully decorate my present. The weather will come no matter my opinion, just as the Sukkot holiday will be celebrated across the globe. A child will come when it’s the right time. Hopefully next year, we’ll build a (reinforced) sukkah with small hands, we’ll dance with the Torah together, and our family will be infused with our child’s spirit. Until then, I celebrate the holiday with loving friends and rambunctious animals, luxuriating in the beauty of our lives.