Here's to Hoping....

Job 6:8  Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for.

It’s December.

Thanksgiving is past, but for me it’s the simplest of holidays. Just gratitude. Being thankful. Remembering and retelling God’s Faithfulness. I remember easily. I recount willingly, the things that have already happened. The way He has already provided. It’s a reflection on what has been.

Christmas has always been more difficult for me. It holds more expectations, more demands…some expressed by others, others placed upon myself. I observe people checking off their lists. Rolling out traditions like they have waited all year for this.  Completing their Christmas shopping as if the possibility of not having funds to buy gifts has never crossed their minds.

It’s the first week of December and part of me says I should be busier. My schedule and to-do list have not changed. We are in a season of waiting. We are anticipating. We are hoping. We are expecting. It’s our reality. It’s where He wants us right now…asking and believing for daily bread. Then thanking for the manna.

Our present reality is a gift.

Living in hope.

def. noun. A feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.

We hear often of Christmas hope. It’s a season of anticipating. A celebration of our eternal hope, Jesus, coming to us in the form of a baby. Our Emmanuel. God with us. His coming was prophesied long before the promise was fulfilled. Saints of old knew the promise, they rehearsed it, but still they waited. 

The fulfillment of a hope is a beautiful thing. Proverbs 13:12 “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” An answer to a prayer, a desire, increases our faith…it’s a life giver.

But the process of being required to continue in hope gives life as well.  When we hope for something it’s because something is not yet complete. Something is missing. Something is still needed. Something is unfinished.

Humanly speaking it would be nice to have no need for hope. But there is an intense beauty in the lacking. A dependence in the needing.

God sufficiency replaces self sufficiency.

Gratitude for the mundane replaces an entitlement of the extras.

A desperate hope for divine intervention is a painful, yet beautiful, thing.

Maybe one day, we will again be able to celebrate December with glitz and dazzle. Experiencing the joy of gift giving extravagantly.

Don’t misunderstand…we will still celebrate December. We will celebrate hoping. We will celebrate waiting. We will celebrate dependence.

We have been given a gift already.

Our hope has come. God is with us. God is for us. EMMANUEL.

Camera Lens and Apples

I love photography.  As the one behind the camera I am able to adjust my perspective and angle to capture a particular moment or expression...as I see it.  For that second I am only seeing what is in that picture.  I can zoom in on a small detail and anything else going on around it is blocked out.  No sounds, no movement, no extras.
But what I enjoy even more is the editing. For me, having images on my camera that have not been copied to my computer is like a gift waiting to be opened.  I can't wait to see what I got! Then there are times as I go through them that I realize I caught sometime I wasn't even aware of.  Today was one of those days....

We spent most of the day yesterday out at the local county fair watching our two oldest boys compete in the Annual Strongman Competition.  They both work for a Concrete Business and several of the guys they work with compete as well.  It's a day they all look forward to...memories are made, bragging rights are earned and relationships are celebrated as they "work" together on a day off.  Even the guys that aren't competing come to cheer the others on.
Soon after we got home, my youngest were napping and I was able to get right into the pictures.  I was able to work in silence,  alone with my thoughts and ideas.  As is often the case, I find that God uses this alone time to impress on my thoughts a particular truth or Scripture.  I had many pictures to go through. Lots of non family members but many of my boys...now 18 and almost 20 years old.
This competition is about strength...they both did very well.  Second place in the featherweight division and third in the heavyweight.
Several verses kept running through my head and after I got the pictures uploaded for the guys to see on Facebook I decided to go look them up. You know, when you remember the principal of it but you want to see exactly how its phrased?

Psalm 144:12 "May our sons in their prime be like sturdy oak trees, Our daughters as shapely and bright as fields of wildflowers".

Psalm 127:5 " How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.  He shall not be put to shame when he contends with his enemies at the gate".

I know I have beautiful children. Not just my opinion....it just is what it is! : )  My boys are manly men, they are the sturdy oak tree type.  Even with my 6-foot frame I am beginning to feel like the short one.  Their character is matching their stature...their roots have taken hold.  Our sons and daughters ARE a blessing...all 8 make my crown sparkle.  It was a reminder of what I have been given...a moment of worship, of gratitude.

The next project on the days agenda was to pick the apples from the first two of our 14 trees.  Shawn had been out working with our girls while I was editing so when I walked outside, a row of buckets was already full.  I happened to still have my camera in hand and snapped this.

The Strongman pictures had been a good reminder of the blessing of my children but it was the shot of the apples that was my undoing.  Remember...the unexpected?  Just apples...but to me it spoke more because of what I had just read in the surrounding verses of the ones I was looking up. And I have to believe that as the inspired, living Word of God...it was speaking to me.

I have alluded a bit in this blog to the difficulties of the last few months but because of some circumstances, out of our control, I have been cautious to say too much.  I am now free to speak a bit more openly.

Four months ago now, in March, Shawn's employment was eliminated.  No warning, with little explanation. A day that started like any other and ended like one we had never experienced before. I know it happens to many others, but it had never happened to us. The feelings we have both experience since that are enough to write a whole book about.  Fear, anger, betrayal and uncertainty, gratitude, to name a few.  My husband is a man of integrity, he has given his all in every employment he has had, and this was no different.

He would tell you that this experience has been the best thing spiritually that has ever happened to  him... I would agree.  God has drawn near, He has provided, He has been present....but He has not ended that season for us...yet.  Shawn is working hard, every day, pursuing what he believes God has laid out for him but the income, or lack thereof, has not changed.

I would tell you that as a wife, there has never been anything more difficult for me than watching him work and work, by faith waiting for God to "turn the faucet on".  Just to clarify, it's not difficult because I disagree that it is what God is asking him to do, but difficult to watch the struggle, knowing full well that God could change things in a moment. Shawn would consider providing for his family to be one of the greatest joys and honors he has ever experienced. Yet, even though he is working diligently and faithfully it doesn't yet have the financial reward.

The apples?  Psalm 144:13-15...the verses right after the one I read earlier says, "Our barns will be filled with every kind of provision.  Our sheep will increase by thousands, by tens of thousands, by tens of thousands in our fields;  There will be no more breaching of walls, no going into captivity, no cry of distress in our streets.  Blessed is the people of whom this is true; blessed is the people whose God is the LORD."

Our abundance of apples this year is a reminder that God prospers us in many ways... its not always in dollars and cents. This is a season, something will change somewhere....He will be faithful to complete the work He has begun in us.  Sometimes our blessing of temporary daily bread and a reminder of His faithfulness is right in our own back yard...it just takes a camera lens and apples to see it.

SOMETIMES WINNING IS LOSING

Last Thursday we braved the freezing cold and wind and drove south a couple of hours to watch David compete in our Track and Field Regional Finals.  It was a family affair (minus one who was working) as we bundled up, with anticipation of what we knew David was capable of accomplishing.  He has worked very hard in an event that was new to him just a couple of years ago.  He has been steadily improving and gaining confidence as he has used his God given talent and tall, strong build to heave a heavy ball great distances.  Never did we think, when he first began, that this would be how he would get through college.

He has personally accomplished much in the sport…but on this night it was not meant to be.  His warm up throws, not to mention his weeks of throwing before, could have qualified him for State Competition.  But on that night, he threw just 6 inches too short.

As spectators, we were not close enough to talk to him as he exited off the opposite side of the field. Obviously disappointed and frustrated.  We made our way around the fenced in area to where we were finally able to hug him…to tell him how proud we are of him and how much we love him.

He was quick to tell how he knew he could have. How close he was.  How he wanted to so badly. 

I am grateful on any given day that I do not parent alone, for many reasons… but the next few moments of words between father and son are ones I will not soon forget.  Shawn placed his hands on David’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes…

“The measure of you as a man is not found in the accomplishments or defeats of one single day or event…but in how much you allow that event to build your dependence on the Lord”.

 

Words that meant more to son, and more to mother because we have seen the truth lived out in the man who spoke them.  It’s been a rough couple months, but the dependency and sweet communion with his Jesus have been tangible in our home.  HE is walking with us, HE is talking to us, and HE is whispering His love for us ever so consistently.

Sometimes the winning is in the losing.  Sometimes the joy is in the grief. 

SWINGING

"For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears.He will rejoice over you with joyful songs."

Zephaniah 3:17 NLT






Eight months ago our little "Brave Heart" could not even sit on this tire swing without panic overtaking him.  No amount of reasoning or reassuring would calm his fear.  Any pictures we have of him in those early days home show someone else either holding him or the swing still. In many areas he appeared to be the more fearless of the two but not when it came to this.  He didn't like it, it was what he feared the most ....plain and simple.

This morning we were outside enjoying the sunshine and he ran to me, asking to be pushed.  As he soared, again and again, into the air,  his laughter and giggles were contagious.  He begged to go higher and higher, more and more...

It's moments like this when God most often speaks to me.  I see myself in my children.  I sense His parental love for me in my spirit and I am encouraged...

While I am not yet at liberty to share all the particulars of our situation, I am able to share the journey of my own heart and I pray that those details will be sufficient to be a blessing for any of you reading.  While each of our story lines is unique...God's Truth covers all.

It is true that much of what we fear in life never really happens, it is also true that some of it does.  That is not meant as a negative statement...it just is.  If you would have asked me 5 years ago what my greatest fear would have been, this would have been it.  The same could be said of my man.  Each of us is smack dab, right in the middle of what we feared the most. 

 We didn't asks for it.
 We prayed that it would never happen.
 We hoped it would fall in the category of things that never really come to pass.

But it didn't...and we are here.  

We battle the fear.
We battle the shame.
We question the reasons.
We battle loneliness and discouragement.
It feels unfair.

But God ordained it...and we are here.

It would be easier to write this as an "after the fact" post.  A remembering of how God intervened and provided "back then"...when the puzzle was complete.  But it is not. 

We have been earnestly seeking His heart on the matter, but He has not yet given clear direction.
When we look at our timeline it appears to be running out.
Panic can easily sweep in.

But we are learning to swing. 
Our knuckles may be white from the gripping but we are at least taking breaths.
With each push, my Father's heart speaks reassurance that, somehow, all will be well.

This view from the heights is different.
The perspective... freeing.

We are learning to giggle... even in the moments when our stomachs drop from the falling.
When hopes are dashed.
When dreams are not yet birthed.

His promises are getting more firmly stamped in our minds as we repeat them with each repetitive motion.
And somehow the process is shifting the truths from our heads to our hearts.

When we submit to His loving, our fears are calmed.
The fear is replaced with an enjoyment of the ride.

Off in the distance I hear singing.
Like a canopy over me.
A joyful song, unlike any other.

A reminder today that, somehow, this journey gives Him reason to be joyful.  I can be thankful for that....

STEADFAST

In my opinion, a winter that lasts only a couple weeks would be sufficient.  Cold enough to require a fire started and snow enough to enjoy the beauty for a day or two…then spring would be welcome.

I’m a southern girl…really southern.  Born and raised south of the equator permanently set my internal thermostat.   Twenty plus years here has done little to change that fact.  It takes me half the summer to thaw before I gear up to do it all over again.

This year I dreaded the long winter for the twins.  They arrived home to us in September and only had a few weeks of nice weather to be outside before the “lock down” began,  reminded every time they stepped outside that they were no longer in Ethiopia.

In classic childlike fashion they’ve adapted well in so many ways.  It was good for everyone, I think.  We had lots of “together” time and the boundaries of the house became their norm.  Home has become very familiar to them.  It’s predictable and consistent…they know what to expect. They have learned the comfort of the routine, the security of the bond called family.

Finally…some sunshine in the last couple days.  We’ve opened the windows and packed up the snow gear.  The birds in the budding trees can’t help but lift one’s spirits.

Yet, I have noticed some obvious struggles in my wee ones.  This change has been hard for them.  I am finding what I have heard from others to be true.  Change is harder for my adopted kiddos than it is for my bios.  All of a sudden everything is different again.  The time we wake up and where we can play.  Sibling’s sports have changed, which in turn affects the boundaries and expectations as outside spectators.  Schedules are different; the people we see are different.

It has triggered an unsettledness in them.  It’s best described as a fluttering…an inability to stick at one thing.  Meron, especially, has almost a panic about her.  The stuttering has returned, the questions have multiplied and the boundaries are being fully tested.  Not in a rebellious sort of way, but instead, one that is begging for the walls of security to be raised high around her.

My heart aches as I am reminded again that change has not always been easy for them.  They have been broadsided by circumstances out of their control. Decisions made without their opinions counting… uprooted into a world they didn’t ask for.

And as happens so often in this fleshing out of adoption, I am struck by how we are so very much the same. We like the predictable, we like the guarantees.  Even us adventurous sorts like stability in the places we most readily find our security.

It’s been a season of change for the big people of the house as well.  One that involves unknowns, unemployment and a boatload of uncertainty.  I have learned that I like variety and change… when I control it.  I like my opinion to be asked before the circumstance plows me over.  I like adventure, if I choose it.

My heart is prone to “flutter”… I have my own expressions of “panic”.  I too, beg for the walls of security to be raised high around me.

I have often prayed Psalm 51:10 for myself, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit in me”.  Probably tending to focus more on the clean heart than the steadfast one.  So tonight, out of curiosity, I looked up definitions for steadfast and this one caught me.

steadfast adj.  firm in purpose, resolution, faith, attachment

Oh yes!  That is so what I desire…a steadfast heart.  So now it’s what I am praying for all of us, big and little.  Firmness in my faith, solidity in their attachment process.

Psalm 112:6-8  “Surely the righteous will never be shaken; they will be remembered forever.  They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord.  Their hearts are secure, they will have no fear; in the end they will look in triumph on their foes.”

Create in me a steadfast heart, O Lord ... firmly planted, living with purpose, unafraid of bad news. 

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Planting Trees

An older post from a year and a half ago... before we even knew who the twins were.  Another reminder of God's faithfulness to all of our children. We were at the beginning of the adoption process when I wrote this...the twins were just "saplings in our hearts".

I came across this video of Andrew Peterson’s song, “Planting Trees” on a friends blog this morning.  I don’t know how long this video has been around but it was a first time viewing for me and I was drawn in to the beauty of the analogy.

I look out my windows this early morning to fall beauty all around. The focus at this time of year is on the trees…the colors, the falling leaves.

We have lived here on this property for just over 13 years and its been many years now of re-doing, re-building and re-planting.  And I feel a twinge of quilt as I remember in our early years here being just a tad frustrated at my hardworking husband, a lover of trees, as he would spend time on his tree projects. Other short term needs seemed more important at the time such as a curtain rod I was needing hung..you know ladies, those kinds of things. We would tease him and roll our eyes on occasion as he would talk about how he envisioned things to one day be. What trees he would like to plant here and there.

Shawn would often walk down along the creek that borders our property and dig up little saplings that had started to grow in places where they would never flourish.  Then he would gently move them from one spot to another, put a protective plastic wrap around the base to protect from any little critters, and then faithfully haul buckets of water from the creek until they had set roots down deep enough to keep themselves growing on their own.

I remember grumblings from our “bucket brigade” of kids when he planted the flowering pear tears all the way up the lane..all 10 of them.  I actually think there were more than that to begin with but we lost a few, I don’t remember but I am sure that if you asked he could tell you. : )

I write this on the morning of Senior Night for our oldest son, Johnathon.  This will be the last night for him to play a home football game at Fairfield so maybe this is what has gotten me all nostalgic, thinking trees.
As I look out over the beauty of many of our now grown trees I am struck by how accurate the anology of this song really is.  The early years of tender nurturing… the roots starting to go deeper and deeper.  The storms that came through from time to time, sometimes almost killing the tree. One such tree is one of thoseBradfordpears right along the lane.  It is still growing, but will never have the shape it did before, and I am now thankful that we never found the time to cut it down.

One of my “trees” is now almost full grown, and even in this week of preparing for the end of this football era for him, God has given me unique opportunities to observe the growth.  To see the beauty of his unique color, the scars in the bark that testify to the fact that he is a walking miracle.

Another of my “trees” is now taller than both Shawn and I.  He is not the same kind of tree as his older brother and his leaves will fall differently.  A couple of my “trees” are in those middle years, still sinking the roots down in, looking for their own source of nourishment and water.  And our girls, firmly planted, new growth..new beauty.

I am reminded that our family is at another crossroad.  New transplants soon to be arriving.  Little shoots that started to grow in an area where they would probably not survive.  God is tenderly picking them up and it will be our job to love, nurture and protect. To pick good “growing spots” for them. And each of us will be part of that “bucket brigade”…to water. Yes, lots of water.

It would be ridiculous of me to end this post without a special thanks to my husband. For his vision, his patience, his tender strength, even in the uprooting.  His gentleness in pruning, his appreciation of the fruit.
I am so thankful to be em”barking” : ) on this new tree planting with you.  Thank you for 19 (now 20) years of helping “create our current landscape”.





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WHAT'S THAT SMELL?

You've heard it said that every home has a unique smell. Not necessarily bad or good, just different. It makes a statement of all things there. The people, the food, the laundry soap, candles and air-fresheners.

Not a new realization for me but I chuckled when I heard it again, my mind immediately imagining what my home smells like to others. Depending on the day you come through our doors the aroma could change. A dirty diaper from the one-year old I babysit, a dog needing a bath, a bag of popcorn left too long in the microwave or a pile of well used shoes could be your first aromatic experience within our four walls. But not all smells here are bad... I love candles and oil burners and when I cook it usually smells good.

It's probably safe to assume that for most of us women, smell is a big deal. We like our men to smell good and our homes to smell clean. We do our best to teach our children personal hygiene and if you are like me, think nothing of directing a teenage boy to a shower when needed.

Millions of dollars are spent on marketing towards our bent. Out of curiosity I checked the names on some of what I currently have laying around. Coastal woods, Sun splashed, Hawaiian tropics, Fireside and Tropical Escape. If only the smell itself could take us there.

But what if we looked at smell differently? 2 Corinthians 2:14-15 says, “But thanks be to God! For through what Christ has done, He has triumphed over us so that now wherever we go He uses us to tell others about the Lord and to spread the Gospel like a sweet perfume. As far as God is concerned there is a sweet, wholesome fragrance in our lives. It is the fragrance of Christ within us, an aroma to both the saved and the unsaved all around us”.

Can you imagine a new line of fragrances for the home that truly creates the atmosphere stated on the jar?

Love and Acceptance

Faith in the unknown

Humility

Forgiveness

Esteeming others better than myself

Flexibility

Boldness in Truth

Joy

Encouragement

Gratitude

Contentment

Patience

Here is the best part.... “because of what Christ has done, and His triumph over us”, the fragrance is already in us. It is because of what HE has done in us that we should smell good. Smells are unavoidable...you don't see them coming, but you know when they are there. You've been around people like that....good and bad. Some people just ooze the Presence of Jesus, others may look the same on the outside but the stench in unavoidable.

We live in the country, in an old home built in 1890. No matter how well we think we have things sealed up an occasional mouse will find its way in through the old basement. It will consume some of the poison we have hidden around and make its final resting place somewhere inside a wall that is impossible to get to. We know its there because we smell it, but will never be able to find it. No amount of air-fresheners, Lysol spray or candles will take it away. In fact, I have learned that trying to cover it with a good smell only makes a more confusing stench.

What candle do you need to light in your home today? Or maybe more importantly ...what stench needs to be dug out? Does your home smell of fear, criticism and arrogance? If you're like me, some rooms smell ok, but in others, the door is best kept shut. Does the work of Christ in us refresh and attract like a wholesome fragrance or do our mixed messages confuse like cheap perfume imitations?

What candle will you commit to lighting in your home today?

My tribute to courageous birth moms everywhere...

Her name means “joy” in Amharic. Not the word I would first use to describe our meeting, just hours after landing in Ethiopia for the second time...this trip to bring our children home.

We had been given the option of meeting birth mom by our agency. It was our choice, but strongly encouraged. It would require extra time and expense, and we were warned that it could be awkward, at best. Both families discussed the pros and cons and decided that, for the sake of the children, we would plan to meet.

We had barely checked into our hotel rooms when a call from the lobby informed us, in broken English, that mom was there and would be waiting for us outside. No warning, no plan...just “she's here...please come downstairs to meet her”.

As I have said so many times in the retelling of our adoption story, NOTHING could have prepared me. PANIC! How exactly is this supposed to be done? Do you hug the woman who is giving you her children? Do you simply shake her hand? Does she hate me? Will she forever remember me with sadness? Will I always be a reminder to her of what she could not be? Will we adequately be able to convey to her that we will love her babies...that they will be completely ours, just like our bio kids...but forever hers as well? That we will always speak of her with honor...that we will do our best to keep their memories of her alive.

We gathered our courage and made our way downstairs...T and Jean had already been introduced to her by the man in charge of our agency's adoptions. My eyes met hers and I lost it...shake her hand? Hardly! We embraced, my six foot frame and hers, probably under five. We sobbed as we held each other...unable to communicate, yet still able to say so very much. She was so strong, so brave, so selfless.

She had carried these twins that are now mine....she had birthed them, named them, nursed them, loved them and kept them alive in such extreme poverty. And now, out of selfless love that I will never claim to fully understand...she was giving them to us. She was giving them hope...she was giving them a future...she was giving them life.

We sat, the five of us...an African birth mother, two American born adoptive parents, one born in Laos, and myself, born and raised in South America....brought from all around the world with one united purpose...the love of four children. We asked her, through the interpreter, what her dreams were for each of her kids., and asked her to describe each of their personalities. We cried together, we laughed together. Each family gave her a photo album to keep...it showed our families here at home, our houses, the kids bedrooms and where they would sleep. We told her about each of you...our families, friends, and community whose generosity had helped make this possible.

It was time to go..just typing those words makes the tears flow again. The interpreter/driver said it was time to take her back so we needed to say our goodbyes. It wasn't enough time, there was not enough said...but it was time. Just before leaving, she softly asked the agency director if she could give us each a gift, as if she hadn’t already given her all. She slowly unfolded a handkerchief and pulled out several tattered pictures that she had of the kids when they were younger, taken with their birth father while he was still living. She explained that she wanted the kids to have something to remember him with too.

I say often that adoption is beautiful, and it is. I say often that adoption requires sacrifice, and it does.

To all birth moms out there who have made the selfless choice to give their child up for adoption. Whether you ever meet your child's adoptive mother or not... may it be a comfort for you to know that the adoptive mother will always carry part of your grief. We carry it tenderly, just as we do your child. We honor it, we honor you. You were braver, you gave more.

ANYONE ELSE?

There are certain days when I am sure that Satan has parked himself on my shoulder with his neatly printed list of lies he creatively whispers in an effort to destroy and cast doubt on any glimmer of faith in me. Today is just like that... His game has not changed... “When he lies, it is perfectly normal; for he is the father of liars.” John 8:44

He swaps Faith for Fear...Hope for Discouragement...Order for Confusion..Unity for Division. He reminds of failures, always...Victories, never.

More specifically, the dirty house speaks to my lack of good organization. The empty fridge and lack of meal plan as well . The schedule for a family our size looks neat on a calendar, only for a few seconds before something shifts and I am needed elsewhere. Discouragement of those closest to me is difficult to walk beside at times as I am prone to calibrate my truth filter through other people's current perspectives instead of God's.

But I am not without a weapon for battle...I have been given the tools. My armor is custom made...extra tall. It is made to cover where I am weakest, strongest where I am wounded and impenetrable if I chose it.

My word for today is IMMANUEL... “God with us”! I spent time this morning focusing on different attributes of God... and this is the sign I have nailed at the entrance of my heart today.

Jehovah...His authority. Exodus 3:13-15

Jehovah-jireh...He will provide. He did yesterday and He will tomorrow. Gen 22:9-14

Jehovah-shalom.... the God of peace. Judges 6:16-24

God is Just..He has seen all and is not fooled. He is our judge. Psalm 75:1-7

God is Eternal...He is already in the tomorrow.

Jehovah-nissi...”God our banner”. We can go from triumph to triumph saying, “Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” I Cor 15:57

He is Faithful.

He is our Intercessor.

And so...it's back to the laundry, back to the planning, back to the cleaning, back to the loving, back to encouraging...Emmanuel is all these things, and incomprehensibly more...And today, He is with me! Anyone else needing truth today?

Adoption Story...Part 3

 Our precious Meron loves books and stories. She loves anything read to her but her favorite story is when we tell her “Ethiopia” story. I start way back at the beginning and no matter how many times I tell it, her eyes sparkle at the same spots every time.

We talk about how we prayed for a really long time that God would find just the right children for our family. How we knew already that we would love them even though we didn't know who they were. She almost bubbles out of her skin as we recount the first time we opened the file with her picture. How Mommy cried and cried and we couldn't stop saying how beautiful she was. She reminds me about their name tags pinned to the front of their shirts and how she did not have any hair.

(Our referral pictures...It was love at first sight...They were ours and they were CHOSEN!)

But we couldn't go see them right away...we had to wait until we finally got the call with the go ahead to buy our tickets to Ethiopia....

Our adoption would require two separate trips...the first to meet the children and finalize their adoptions in the Ethiopian Court and the second to be processed through the US Embassy and bring the children home.

When we arrived at the orphanage for the first time most of the kids were napping. We were told that we would have several one hour visits with the kids during the days that we were there. We would also spend time sightseeing and learning more about the Ethiopian country and culture. We had packed crayons, snacks and bubbles for all the children as we prepared to go spent time with two little ones that we had only ever seen in pictures.

NO AMOUNT of preparation, reading adoption blogs, or talking to other adoptive parents could have ever fully prepared me for the moment we first laid eyes on them. Shawn & I and T & Jean were first escorted into the room where the younger children slept... we were directed towards a little yellow bunk bed where the two youngest boys slept. They were snuggled together under a blanket, fast asleep as we entered the room. Jean and I walked together towards the boys and knelt beside each other at the edge of the bed. Tears poured from our eyes as we stared into the faces of two of the most precious little treasures...blessings from above...trusted into our care from a heavenly Father who gives only good and perfect gifts. I can only imagine what went through those babies minds as they were awakened by the nanny and looked up into the faces of two blubbering white women. The boys immediately let us pick them up and the smothering from Mommies and Daddies began.

Meron and her oldest brother, Kaleb, were brought to us soon after meeting the younger two boys. Meron grins now when we talk about how terrified she was to be near us initially, but she was notgrinning then. It was obvious right off the bat that any preconceived ideas I may have had about a prefect first meeting would need to be filed in the “guess God didn't mean for it to be like that” folder. She was absolutely terrified of us and would keep her distance as much as possible. We could not hold her or touch her and only a couple times in that first trip did she interact at all with us while blowing bubbles or playing. Her little world was totally turned upside down. The loss these children had already experienced in their short little lives is unfathomable. Adoption does not happen without grief...it is not all easy...it requires sacrifice and loss on many levels.

But it is a beautiful thing. I often tell people that adoption is for the orphan, and I believe it. But just as importantly, adoption is for the benefit of the church. Deuteronomy 14:29 says “ He blesses those who provide for the orphan”...the orphan is blessed by a family, but the family is blessed to experience just a glimpse of Christ's love for us.

Did I say that nothing could have fully prepared me for this experience? Nothing could have prepared me for the love and emotion that overflowed in me as I held the stinkiest, snottiest little boy ever! The one wearing pink crocs and girl pajamas, with a sores on his body and signs of malnourishment undeniable...who from the first moment has forever captured his momma's heart.

Nothing could have prepared me for the unconditional love we have felt for our princess, who made it clear from the beginning that she did not need this loving. Who has, since coming home, opened up and learned to express her fears and losses in beautiful detail...giving us glimpses into our children's history and story.

Nothing could have prepared me for the fulfillment I would sense in seeing my husband and biological kids accept these two into our family without reservation. They don't look like us, don't talk like us, but they couldn't be any more us.

Are they blessed to have us? Maybe... Are we blessed to have them? Absolutely! 

Adoption Story...Part Two

 (A continuation of Adoption Story....Part One)



The skill of the architect is seen in the detail of His work... and never in my life, before this,  had I experienced that reality quite like we did in the next several months.

It did little good for us to simply believe that the twins were meant for our family.  It was explained to us by our agency that the Ethiopian government would probably not agree to the placement of only two of the children, and there would be even less of a chance of finding a family, already in process, who would adopt all four. 

The files on the four children were not even completed, all we knew of them was gender and ages. We entered that Easter weekend agreeing, with our agency/social worker, that we would pray and see if God would bring to either of our minds, a family for the two boys.

I mentioned the situation casually to several people we knew and was met with chuckles, blank stares, and my favorite.... "Don't you dare say anything to my husband/wife about this- they'd be all over it".  We gathered prayer support from friends and family but were somewhat guarded with the little info we had.  People were genuinely interested but, clearly, no family had been found.

As beautiful as the details of this story have been to this point...it is this place in the retelling where, no matter how many times I tell it, each time I become more awestruck.  There is a shift in the storyline, the music quiets to a more holy hush as the curtain, once again, opens...I can not even write this without my throat tightening and my eyes pooling. 

I wasn't "Expecting Easter" that morning. It was Sunday morning as usual, just a different order of service.  I don't remember the sermon, or the worship songs at the end.  But I remember taking communion....we walked together as a family up to the table where the bread and wine were served.  We huddled together in a circle as we prayed, thanking God for the sacrifice of His Son, and asking, once again, for His direction and provision.  As we were making our way back to our seats a light bulb went off in my head..."T and Jean!"  I quietly leaned over to Shawn and told him that I felt like God was wanting me to ask them.

We knew T and Jean from church but didn't know them well.  I had enjoyed several brief conversations with Jean about adoption in general.  With both of them having backgrounds in counseling, she had wondered if maybe they would be a good fit to help with the new adoption ministry starting at church.  We knew they had hearts that genuinely wanted to be used by God...but would hardly be considered "close friends".

I chuckle now as I wonder what must have been going through T's mind as I unloaded the "quick version" of the story on him.  The basic gist of it..."Hey, we know of these two boys from Ethiopia that need a family.  They have twin siblings...we will take the twins...I felt God telling me this morning that I should ask you if your family would adopt the boys!"  You know, normal "after church chit chat". : )

It's a memory that brings a chuckle...but a reality that now demands our worship.  It's the inspiration for the title to this blog, because of one simple reason.  They said "yes"! 

Romans 8:11 states that "..the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead lives in you".  It's His Spirit in us that gently, and sometimes not so gently, pushes us into our greatest unknowns.  It's His Spirit, working in us, that gives the strength to say "yes" with virtually no time at all to figure things out.  His Spirit, in us, that demands radical obedience, yet accepts our offerings from our trembling hands with perfect gentleness.

They could have said no, but because they didn't, we all experienced Easter that morning...the beginning of new life.  The choosing of sacrificial love...death to ourselves for the sake of four others.  It's a beautiful reality...this day we call Easter... for it is hardly a once a year thing.



(To be continued...)



                                                                     

ONLY TWO MONTHS LATER...IN ETHIOPIA!

Adoption Story... Part One

It was exactly one year ago, the day after Palm Sunday, when God began to reveal the more specific details of our adoption story.  Our official adoption process had begun about eight months prior, consisting of mountains of paperwork, fundraising efforts and long periods of waiting for the much anticipated phone call from our agency...the call to let us know that our new children had been found, if we would choose to accept the referral. We had specified that we were hoping for two girls, somewhere between the ages of 3 and 5, but would be open to consider other possibilities, as we knew full well that God was doing the "choosing"...we would know when it was time.  With four biological sons and two biological daughters already, it seemed that two more girls made the most sense...even the ranks. ( whatever is that supposed to mean?!)

I woke up early on the morning of April 2nd from a dream that still remains clear in my mind to this day.  In it, we received a call from our agency with a "referral" for 4 year old twins.  We were sent pictures of their beautiful Ethiopian faces. I remember their dark eyes shining at us with anticipation, almost as if they were begging to be chosen.  We oo-ed and aw-ed over the perfectness of their smiles as the picture in my mind changed to show their little bodies.  These perfect little children were missing all their fingers and all their toes...

I remember telling Shawn about my dream right after waking up.  We laid there in bed talking about how neat it would be if God would somehow choose to bless us with twins.  Kind of the icing on the cake...and 4 year-olds...how PERFECT! We talked about the strangeness of the fingers and toes part...where in the world did that come from? But dreams are like that much of the time...

The details of the dream lingered in my mind through the remainder of the week.  I shared it with my friends and family, even co-workers at work, and each time I did it was almost as if God was asking me to believe Him for it.  The desire to mother twins was not a new one for me, but it wasn't a "necessary request"...God didn't owe me that desire....that would be "extra".  I would be just as thrilled with 3 and 5 year old siblings... but still, He seemed to desire that I ask. We had not specified that we would take children with disabilities.  Was He asking us to?  We were not really opposed to the idea...just didn't really feel like He had given us that direction.

That Friday evening, Good Friday... I was sitting in my car in the Target parking lot at around 5:30 pm.  As I was getting out, I heard my phone ring, and noticed that it was our agency's number.  My heart would always skip a beat when they called, but since it was after regular business hours I thought maybe I had just pushed a wrong button and accidentally called them.

It was one of our agency's social workers.  She was not the one who normally handled our case and asked if I had a minute to talk. She stated that she realized she was kind of going out on a limb by making this call, but after a previous conversation she had had with me earlier in the week, felt confident that we were totally aware that God was the one adding to our family and that we would trust Him to lead in this conversation as well.  She then started asking questions.

Would we consider taking two boys or did we want at least one of the two to be a girl?  I replied that we were willing to take one boy but, as a family,  had all felt strongly, that at least one of our new children would be a girl.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I started to doubt.  Really?  Who does that?  Who tells someone they wouldn't take two boys?  Of course we would!  I already had four...what difference did it make if God gave us two more?  I started to justify our reasons to her, simply because saying no seemed so ridiculously selfish.

She then began to tell me the reason for the call.  They had a sibling set of two brothers, 6 and 2, that had recently come in to the orphanage and they were trying to find placement for them. We were the closest family on the waiting list to those ages...most families were waiting for younger children.  My heart sank even deeper as I felt like I had just passed over giving these two precious boys a home...all because I was stuck on a girl.  I started to tell her that we would talk about it and pray about it...thinking to myself that maybe we had heard God incorrectly, but before I could even finish she said there was another part of their file that she had not yet mentioned.

In between these two boys, was a set of....4-year old twins!!  The tears gushed, even before my words could..."Those are my babies!  I know it with everything in me!"  If only it were that simple...

(to be continued....)