Like climbing a mountain of snow

A few weeks ago, we were hit by a snowstorm. My kids were excited by the vision outside the window, until they realized it was a bit too deep to actually play in (and what good is a pile of snow if you can't play in it?) These past few days we've had beautiful "warm" weather (if you get 40' F in the midwest during February, you are practically obligated to run out in a t-shirt and drive with the windows down!)

Because of the nice weather, the snow burial in our yard has melted away and instead we are left with mostly mud and puddles. I brought the kids on a walk around our block. Finally, we could enjoy the outdoors! However, our walk was filled with little obstacles. Some places the sidewalk was perfectly clear, others were deep puddles of mud, occasionally still frozen with surprising ice patches to keep the kids on their toes (or, if not too careful, off of them, haha.) The biggest obstacle we kept facing, however, were the many little "snow mountains" that still occasionally buried our walking path.

These "mountains" weren't the kind that are impossible to cross, but they did take a lot of effort. They occasionally tripped us up, slowed us down, and not too far into the walk, I began to question whether or not this was a good idea after all. With every step we took to cross each mountain, we'd instead sink into it. On a summer day, this walk would take under thirty minutes; this one took a full hour. At each turn, seeing the mountains of snow and puddles across most of the sidewalk, I asked myself if it was really a good idea take this walk after all. The end seemed so far away, and at the point of no return, the kids were ready to be done. Was this really what we wanted? Is this supposed to be for fun?

Then it occurred to me.
It's a snow mountain. It may be hard to cross, but it's still crossable.
It's a long walk, but it's still a journey with a destination.

Our adoption process feels a lot like climbing a mountain of snow. Fun and exciting for a few minutes, but very quickly starting to feel like each step we take only buries us a little further. It's manageable, it's certainly not impossible to cross, it just takes a lot of effort in order to make it through. And if this journey is like our walk around the block, I know we haven't even reached the end of our street yet. I'm looking forward to turning the corner; but right now, I'm just trying to get the kids to stop playing in mud puddle in front of the house two doors down!

It's a big block, but we aren't turning back now!