‘Little House on the Pairie’ books taught me what “slower than molasses in January” means. The bleak, white winters described in those pages made me grateful for amenities like heaters, clothes dryers and snow-blowers. Molasses was dripped from the trees with a bucket hung on a post that created a hole for the goo to slide out with the help of gravity. Cold congealed the sugary substance so they didn’t sit and wait for the bucket to fill. They would leave it there and come back to check on it every once in a while.
As we continue to wait on this adoption stuff my attempt at keeping things light is to describe it as slower than molasses in January. Then we can force a pasty grin to stretch across our face and leave the topic as quickly as possible.
My last update was a small drip into the bucket. Now we wait again for the next sticky dollop to drop.
“One step at a time,” DaRonn says to me as I growl about the latest from the lawyer.
“So what step are we taking right now?” My cynical response is searing.
“This is the step where we wait.” Ah, such wisdom there from my patient man.
Imagine a shelving unit. Imagine there are stacks of file folders full of papers covering the unit. Imagine that each of those files represents a child. Each of those children are awaiting the final signature that allows them to be approved as adoptable. Normally a judge would be the one to provide that final signature. Since the judge is gone a doctor of law is filling in. He grabs a stack of the files and starts to sign. After a few days he stops. He is also the one who has to match the kids with the adoptive families. So the next week and a half is spent matching kids to families. A handful of matches are made. At the same time a new stack of files replaces the ten he was able to get through. Then it starts again. He grabs a stack of files and starts signing.
Signing to make kids ‘adoption ready’ is what is happening this week. There may be some matching this week. More likely is that the matching will start after the signing of this batch is finished: next week. We are hoping that one of the kids is a little girl who will be assigned to the Washington family.
Going back to the tree analogy my toes are frozen as I am standing next to the little bucket waiting for the next drip of molasses. Foolishly I have tried to breathe on the bark to speed up the process. The only result has been an exhausted and lightheaded woman. I have decided to stop trying to force this to happen. I am going inside to warm up. The next drip will come when it comes.
Image courtesy of: Maple Syrup From Pennsylvania