Hope

I have so much to say with the recent events in our nation and the upcoming election.  I just won't though.  It doesn't matter - and I have been in enough Facebook "debates" recently to know that no one has any real skills or desire to truly debate any of the issues.  The pervading emotion is fear.  I can't be part of that.  I have been called simple, silly, and a baby murderer just in the last week alone.  By believers.  Believers with a platform.  Oh friends....

Today, I just want to share some thoughts with you.

Jeremiah has been home 8 months now.  It has been the longest and shortest period of time in my life.  We have had two surgeries, countless doctors appointments, lots of tears, lots of smiles - fear, elation, joy, and every emotion in between.

Every time we turn into our driveway, no matter how long or short of a time we have been away Jeremiah squeals with utter delight from the backseat - "Hoooome!  We're hooome!"   He has never had that opportunity before.  Yesterday, out of the blue and for no obvious reason except whatever was going on inside of his head, Jeremiah threw his arms around Patrick and said, "Patrick, you my brother!"  The joy and excitement in his voice brought me to tears.  Ugly cry tears.  He has never been able to say that before.  This morning, on two occasions Jeremiah got angry - once with Stan and once with Lyndsey.  When asked what was wrong, he replied, "Jeremiah mad at daddy.  Jeremiah mad at G."  Then, in a few minutes he was laughing as dad tickled him and pressing Lyndsey's face close to his for a kiss.  This is a family.  He has never had that before.  He roots through the refrigerator freely, as do all of my kids.  He is cautious around strangers, but after looking at me for approval, he looks people in the eye and talks to them.  He is outgoing, happy, smart, funny - and one of the two most courageous boys I know.

Jeremiah and Patrick have inside of them a courage that I so wish I could fully describe to you.  Their stories are not mine to tell though, so there is so very much about both of them that no one knows.  No one.  As much as I am an over sharer in many ways - my boys' history, medical issues, and emotional struggles will always remain under wraps.  Unless there comes a day that they decide to share them.  Suffice it to say though that both of them are survivors to the highest extent.  They have overcome obstacles from the moment of conception that most of us can not even fathom.  They are heroes.  Even though they may have been considered "hard placements," even though their medical predictions were frightening, even though we had no idea what we were getting into.  Even though.  These two boys, born to other women - one across the country and one across the world from me - were foreordained before the creation of the world to have a chance at LIFE.  They are ROCKING that chance.

Yesterday a friend said something on her Facebook page and I want to leave you with her quote.

"This.  This is the way our family casts a PRO LIFE vote."

Roots or Wings?

I had roots and I have given my kids wings.

I am not sure that there is a black and white answer to the question of which is best.  I have searched deep within myself for many years with little success.  Maybe there isn't one, so much in life can not be filed in neat little compartments.  Maybe God's sovereignty over our lives is personal.  We are messy, us humans that He created.  Maybe I am a wanderlust because I had deep roots.  Maybe my kids will want roots because I gave them wings.

So far I have one wanderlust like me, a home body who clearly wants roots, two who are still trying to decide and two very young adventurers who could not define the term wanderlust just yet, but love to tag along on Mom's random road trips.  My oldest daughter is my mini me.  Her favorite quote is "Not all who wander are lost" - it is mine too.

I want to see it all - I seriously could just keep a "go bag" packed and ready and if someone asked me to leave for another continent on two hours notice I would thrive on the "stress" and beat them to the airport.  On the other hand, I love lazy days at home, I love to be alone in my prayer closet, and I love to curl up with a good book.  What I hate is mediocrity and boredom.  I hate it when my littles sit in front of the tv all day.  It causes a stifling guilt to rise up within me.  I despise "mindless" activities.  I want to see them run in fields, build sand castles, peruse museums, and taste all the samples at Farmer's Markets.  I want to see the wind in their hair and the fire in their eyes.  I want to be doing all of these same things myself.  I love long lazy drives in the country, walking trails in the cool morning, watching the flaming sun set over the mountains or the beach, waking up to the sound of lapping waves and air so thick that you can taste it.

I am a wanderlust and a romantic.  I envision things that have a hard time matching reality - and this sometimes plunges me into a pit.  Sometimes I can climb out of the pit and shake it off and sometimes I live there for a while.  I am not proud of the periods of time I have lived in the pit.  It is slimy and gross and lonely.  No one likes pit dwellers.  They are no fun, they are crabby and frown a lot.  This is how I feel about myself most of the time.  So many don't believe that about me - they believe I am peaceful, content, loving and selfless.  I don't mean to be a poser.  Those things are what I want to be - and some days the scales tip to the positive side.  Many days they don't.  I have ben in a pit for a while now.  So much in our life is changing - good changes, but change nonetheless and it is stressful.  I feel like I am in a mode of self preservation and it is a pervasive mood in our family right now.  I hate it, and I feel paralyzed to change it.  The changes just keep coming - the weight of it feels too much right now.  I see no light at the end of the tunnel.

It is times like this that I see the benefit of roots.  I want my extended family close by.  I want my childhood friends.  Maybe I want my childhood.  When someone took care of me.  I want to be able to drop my kids off at my mom's for a few hours or oh my gosh have them spend the night with their grandparents or cousins.  I can't remember the last time my kids spent the night with anyone.  This is the consequence of giving them wings.  We spread ours and flew away over twenty years ago and we have gone at it apart from human help ever since.  God has been faithful and He is more than enough to carry the weight of what we are dealing with right now.  As I said, mostly all good things - but even good changes can feel overwhelming when they hit you all at once.

Part of me holds on to the hope that my children will figure out how to have the benefits of staying close to their roots and still not being fearful of spreading their wings and flying high on the wind - wherever God leads them.  So, what do you think?  Roots or wings?  Or is it wishful thinking to believe that there is a way to have both?

Journey to Jeremiah - Update

It has now been about 10 weeks since our little man was placed in our arms.  We have been home for over 8 of those weeks.  Since I last wrote about attachment, Jeremiah has continued to thrive.  He has meshed right in with our family and is doing exceptionally well.  Patrick is struggling a bit.  His world has been rocked to the core and I admit to being a bit disappointed in his jealousy.  I knew he would have his moments but he has struggled much more than I anticipated.  I think he is also disappointed in himself, which breaks my heart.  He loves Jeremiah and talks about him constantly when he is not with him.  But, when we are all together at home (he does extremely well out and away from the house) but at home, he is so jealous every time Jeremiah comes near me.  It has reveled some issues in Patrick that we have frankly ignored over the past couple of years and should have addressed before now.  Patrick is adopted from birth and I foolishly assumed that we would avoid many of the trauma behaviors that children who are adopted often have.  I did not take into consideration that Patrick's in utero experience was rough (understatement of the year).  He had to fight to survive and he is still fighting.  So now we are addressing Patrick's needs as well as Jeremiah's and Mama is T-I-R-E-D.  

Trauma is exhausting.

Attachment is exhausting.

Doctor's appointments are exhausting.

Parenting is just plain exhausting.

Tell us something we don't know, said all the moms.

Well, adoption is absolutely amazing.  Every morning when I look at their faces, I see the very heart of God in my home.  MY home.  And I do not deserve it.  Jeremiah said "I love you" unprompted for the first time on Saturday.  We spent the day in a little town a short drive from our home and we were walking around the town square, playing, having their faces painted, running in the grass, laughing.  All of a sudden, he threw his arms around my neck and said "I love you Mama."  

Melt.My.Heart.

When I look at his huge smile, hear his belly laugh, and watch him play and explore the world around him every day I am just in awe of the God who redeems.  He reaches down into our most broken places and picks us up.  He gives us things we don't even realize we need.  Jeremiah had no idea he needed a family - and we had no clue how much we needed him.  

Both of my little boys show me every day the Father's heart towards us.  "For He predestined us for adoption as sons, through Jesus Christ."  And now we have the right to be called Children of God, the very same as natural born children.  (my paraphrase)   God uses all of our children in various ways to reveal Himself to us - to grow us, stretch us beyond anything we thought we were capable of.  We fight for this life.  We fight for their lives and their health and their emotional stability.  

If not us, then who??? 

Now for a more practical update of our lives for those interested.  We have started the process of addressing Jeremiah's physical needs.  Mentally and developmentally he appears right on track, if not advanced.  Physically he is very healthy apart from his "special need" which is hypospadias and undescended testicles.  We received all of his blood work back (after much drama trying to get a blood draw).  Jeremiah is now termed a "difficult draw" and can only have blood drawn under sedation - per the instructions of the best pediatric IV team that our children's hospital has.  Yikes!!  That's tough.  But, they have been amazing and we got what we needed for his diagnostic tests and his basic bloodwork.  So, all of his bloodwork looks perfect as far as "health" is concerned.  He has clearly been well cared for.  

His special need is, in and of itself, not a big deal.  The big deal is that these needs are usually addressed and repaired under a year old, so they become a bit more involved and traumatic in an almost four year old.  After about three weeks now of almost constant doctor's appointments and attempted blood draws, we are good to go.  We will see the doctor next week to put a date on the calendar for the surgery to repair both issues and then hopefully put the medical part of this process well in the rearview mirror.  (I will save my post about the current state of our "sick care" system for another day). 

In the past few weeks we have also had Jeremiah's first dentist appointment, regular chiropractor visits (which he adores, as we all do - our chiro is THE most amazing person), countless baseball games for Graham, multiple trips to the zoo, the science museum, the children's museum, all the parks in the vicinity, and a visit from our NC family - which was amazing!  

Jeremiah seems to know his colors and how to count in Chinese and he is diligent about learning to do the same in English.  His favorite things right now are the dog, splashing in the pool (but not going under), taking a million showers a day (but not wetting his hair), eating toast and seaweed, peeing on the potty (but not consistently enough to call it potty trained), watching Paw Patrol, and reading Brown Bear Brown Bear.  He loves outings and he loves playing at the park.  He babbles literally all the time.  He is still mostly attached to me, but when I leave him home for short periods with the other kids he "gets over it" pretty quickly.  Stan and I have even been on two dates, which was amazing!  He sleeps all night, only sitting up for water once or twice soon after falling asleep.  

In other news our life is nuts right now.  In the midst of our crazy, Bryce graduated from college last week and we celebrated her with brunch at a local resort.  We leave in a couple of weeks for Florida, where Lyndsey will graduate from high school and then stay in Florida for a few more weeks.  The rest of us will return to Arizona, take care of Jeremiah's surgeries and finish the wedding plans.  Bryce and Jacob get married mid-August and she moves to Texas.  By then school will be starting again and I will be tutoring Patrick and Jeremiah's Classical Conversations class, Lyndsey will be taking college courses, Graham will be in High School (still at home), and there is a very real possibility we will be adopting another son who is Patrick's age.

Anyone want to join me for a nap?

I do love my crazy life! Enjoy a few pictures of our growing tribe!

Happy Resurrection Day!

Brunch to celebrate Bryce's graduation!

Face Painting in the square in Prescott! (the day J said "I love you.")

Journey to Jeremiah - Part 4 - Bonding and Attachment

Attachment, bonding, grieving, connection, trauma, RAD....these are the terms and conditions that I have analyzed (ok, overanalyzed), read countless books about, studied, prayed and cried over these past 11 months.  I thought about them when we adopted Patrick almost six years ago, but I thought adopting from birth was a guarantee that these issues would not affect your family.  It's not.

Adoption and trauma go hand in hand.  Always.  No matter what the circumstances behind an adoption - there is a tragedy involved.  What to us is a moment of long anticipated joy is to our children the culmination of a series of traumatic events leading them to a place they never wanted to go.  Whether it happened after only nine months in the womb and 9 days out of it, as it did for Patrick or whether it was three and half years worth of events leading up to "that" day - as it was for Jeremiah - there is still trauma and tragedy and heartache.  Yes, Patrick's "break" was easier on the surface.  His mind can not remember his birth mother.  But, his body can.  Her DNA is a part of him and it always will be.  There is connection in our cells and when that connection tragically breaks, there is long term pain involved.  Patrick is totally and completely attached to me - and to our family.  He is.  And yet, there are issues that arise from time to time that can only be explained by the trauma he endured in utero and the break that happened soon after.  Those things are irrelevant to our love for him or even to his day to day activities.  But, they are very relevant to the man he is growing into.  They are part of him and we can not deny them - it would only add another tragedy to his life if we attempted to.

Jeremiah's story is a little more complicated on the surface.  How their respective stories will affect the men they grow into remains to be seen.  Jeremiah does remember.  Not his birth parents - that break was made early, and his mind can not remember it.  Yet, it is still a combination of their DNA that makes up his physical body.  What he does remember are the caretakers he has had since he lost his birth parents.  We are eternally grateful that his caretakers have been kind, loving, and godly.  His life has been happy and settled.  He has been well cared for, fed, kissed and played with.  He is developmentally on track and at least in my experience, well advanced in many ways for a three year old.  The problem is that no matter how wonderful of an environment you live in, when you are an orphan, living in an orphanage - that is not a family.  It is a type of "familial" living and in his case, it was a very very good representation.  But, a representation is not the real thing.  And his nannies, though they loved him dearly, were not the same as a Mama.  It was their job to love him.  I love him because he is mine.

Bonding and attachment are intentional work.  They don't just happen.  I believe that love is a choice.  God led us to Jeremiah and we chose him 11 months ago.  We began at that point to choose to love him.  I understand, because I talk to hundreds of women about this, that adoption is not an easy choice for some people.  The thought of loving "someone else's child" is overwhelming to many women (and men too I suppose, I just talk mostly to women).  They want to want to - but, they think they just can't.  For me, this is the easy part.  It never crossed my mind that I would not love Patrick and Jeremiah as much as I love my biological children.  It just didn't.  Now, I knew that adopting an older child may be somewhat different in the beginning than adopting a newborn.  Patrick was handed to me weighing five pounds.  He really had not formed any distinguishable personality yet and he was a tiny, precious baby.  I wrapped him up in my sling and carried him around just like my first four children.  And I fell in love with him as he fell in love with me.

Jeremiah came to us with a personality intact.  A pretty strong one, I might add.  I was prepared that I may have to "fake it til I felt it" with him, as I have heard many people say.  I know that three is a hard age anyway and I was prepared that he may have habits and mannerisms that just got on my nerves.  Ya know?  Like when you babysit someone else's child and you love them and you are kind to them, because they are a child and you are an adult, and you just do.  But, they do things that just get on your nerves.  It's ok to admit, we have all felt it.

I can honestly say however, that I do love him.  He doesn't get on my nerves and he hasn't really displayed any habits (yet anyway) that are particularly annoying to me.  If you are reading and you did have a hard time with bonding, please don't feel defeated or "less than" or any of that.  Every person and every child and every situation is different.  I could adopt again and have a totally different experience - and so could you.

Attachment, I would define as the act of forming the true parent/child bond with your child.  When we talk about attachment in adoption circles, we all kind of mean whatever is the opposite of RAD.  It is a scary acronym to those of us who adopt older children.  I guess a child of any age could have RAD, but somehow we mostly equate it with the "older" ones.  Those who have already had their little wills shaped by someone else, someone who is not you.  We read books and blogs and we scare ourselves too death about the horrors of reactive attachment disorder.  And it is a real thing, and it happens.  A lot.  We want to do it right and be sure that nothing we do tips the scales the wrong way.  It is a lot of pressure.

Attachment is not something that happens automatically.  It takes real, intentional work.  You can not just jump back into your busy schedule with a newly adopted toddler or older child.  These children thrive on consistency.  Their entire world has been turned upside down.  They have no idea what or who they can count on anymore.

We arrived home two weeks ago, and today marks one month since our Gotcha Day.  So, it is still early to talk about complete bonding and attachment.  We are doing very very well, but there are still moments that it is painfully clear that we have a long way to go.

For our family, bonding has looked like spending a lot of time playing, singing, eating (so much eating).  Food is a really important tool for bonding.  What may look like bribery - and sometimes is - is also a huge factor for trust.  Jeremiah came to us very well fed and well taken care of.  That is not always the case.  However, even though he has never had to perform for his meals or wonder if he was going to get one - the fact is that he had no way to know if we could be trusted.  Food is a huge thing.  I know for me, one of my biggest concerns about our trip to China was food.  What if we can't find anything suitable to eat?  I brought a suitcase full of food - it was my security blanket in a way.  How much more so for a three year old being thrust into a situation that he did not choose and had no say in.  What if they don't feed me????  It has to be something that runs through their little minds.  So, we met him at the door with lollipops and crackers.  We allowed him to eat as much as he wanted when we would go to the restaurant for a meal.  We gave him snacks every time he asked.  We kept his cup of water full all the time and in plain sight.  Now that we have had him for a month, he has learned that we are going to feed him.  So, after he eats two bananas, then I can steer him in another direction when he asks for a third, knowing that he is not really hungry.  We still have a full water bottle near him all the time and we still offer snacks and meals more frequently than we will as time goes on.  But, I think we have cleared the food hurdle for the most part.  He does love to eat though, and has been so compliant about trying new foods.  We have learned that, in addition to his "staples" of seaweed sheets, noodles, and bananas - his "new" loves are olives, yogurt frozen into a popsicle, toast with butter, and dried peas.  Sometimes he eats these all at the same time, because you know - choices are HARD.

As we settle into our new normal, I am realizing what I already knew would be true.  This whole thing is about me.  What I mean by that is not what it sounds like.  Many would say (and do say to us daily) that Jeremiah is so "lucky" (I don't like that word and do not believe in luck) or they will say he is so "blessed" to have us.  In fact, it is the other way around completely - if I believed in luck, then there is no doubt that the "lucky" ones are us.  We GET to.  We need him a lot more than he needs us. Because you know what, God could have used anyone.  He could have picked someone far more qualified.  But, that's the thing about God.  He is just so - GOD.  He wants to draw us to a place that we never would have gone on our own.  A place where He must show up or we just couldn't make it.  Never make the common mistake of believing that God will never give you more than you can handle.  That is not Biblical and I promise you it is not true.  God absolutely will give you more than you can handle.  If He wouldn't, this chic would not be attempting to mother six children - I can assure you of that.  I am a complete and utter disaster.  There is absolutely nothing I feel truly good about in my life.  Most days I fall into bed feeling like a complete failure.  Overwhelmed with all the "little" things of life that add up to make a huge boulder in the path.  I never feel like enough in any area of my life.

But God.....He shows up in sticky kisses and giggles.  He is there when teenagers hold your hand.  He whispers I love you in the voice of a five year old who has been missing his Mom and just wants to snuggle.  He tells me over and over that though I never deserved this life, He gave it to me just because He can.  He delights to give us the desires of our heart - and a long time ago, I decided that the only true desire in my heart is to follow Him into the deepest places.  I stumble, I fall, I fail - I feel like I fail much more than I succeed.  Yet, somehow we keep moving in forward motion.  We keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Somehow, I have amazing adult children, teenagers who love me (and like me most of the time), and now two little boys who fight over who gets to snuggle with Mama.  Honestly, my life is nothing like I thought it would be at this point, but it is far more than I ever dreamed or imagined.

God is there - and that is really all that matters in the end.  I am so eternally grateful.

I will leave you with a few pictures from the past couple of weeks.  That smile -- oh my goodness, it melts my heart.  Watching him learn to accept our love is a beautiful picture of how God knits hearts together.  It seems like yesterday we were in that Gotcha room, but at the very same time, I don't know how we ever lived without this little guy.  Our family was definitely missing someone - and I am so thankful we found him!!

Journey to Jeremiah - Part 3 - We Gotcha Baby Boy!

The morning dawned early for all of us.  Too excited to sleep, we all went to breakfast.  Someone had suggested that we get together to pray before we left to get the babies.  We were to leave at 9:30 and the babies would arrive at the registration office sometime before 12:30, depending on when they left their orphanages.  About six or seven families (some missed the "memo" and did not realize we were getting together) met in the lobby for the prayer time.  We dragged our chairs into a tight circle and huddled together, heads bowed - not completely unaware of the fact that the huge bubble camera attached to the ceiling above us was watching and likely recording every word.  We started out sharing our thoughts, our fears, what was going through our minds here at the last hour.  Then we took turns praying.  Corporate prayer is such a powerful thing.  Obviously God hears and responds to every prayer we utter or even think, but where two or more are gathered the Spirit falls in a unique and powerful way.  We prayed for our children of course, for each other, the other children we brought with us, for adoption in general, for China - the country we had come to dearly love - for the nannies and foster mommies who had loved on our babies in the interim, for their birth Mamas.  We prayed for the tragic circumstances that our precious ones had faced to bring them to this point.  Our hearts were full to bursting with excitement, joy, anticipation - their hearts were about to break.  We felt the full weight of that knowledge in that moment and it was beautiful and it was messy, and it hurt.  God had given each of us the most amazing responsibility - the responsibility to raise another one of His children and point them back to Him.  None of us gathered in that room that morning took that lightly.

We left for the Registration office, where we were to meet the orphanage directors and nannies that would bring us our children.  Jeremiah's orphanage was about three hours away, so I did not expect that he would be there when we arrived.  Our large group all received our children together, but we were divided for bus rides, even when we were going to the same place.  This is a picture of us with the six other families that we were with the majority of the time.

It was Monday, February 15th in China, but in the US it was Sunday evening, the 14th.  Valentine's Day.  Clearly, the best one any of us had ever had.  What better day to receive the gift that represents the very heart of the gospel - the very definition of Love itself?  

We walked up those concrete stairs and through the front door, armed with bags of "distractions."  Hand held toys, cars, dolls, stacking blocks and lollipops.  Lots of lollipops.  It looked like any other government building and a dim hallway led to the "Gotcha" Room.  It was just a large room with a few chairs lining the edges.  The nannies or orphanage directors would bring the kids there to meet us.

As I knew it would, our Gotcha was not like anything I had imagined.  Mostly because I totally and completely jumped the gun and ran away with it.  We were coming down the hall en masse with our group, having been warned over and over by our guides that most likely none of the kids would be there yet and not to worry or be anxious.  They would all make it.  Because patience is not my virtue, I peeked through the crowd into the room and I looked down.  And there he was.  All I remember is yelling over my shoulder to Stan and the kids, "Jeremiah is already here!"  And I pushed through the crowd.  

I didn't mean to.  I didn't think about it.  But, I saw him and I just couldn't stop myself.  I squatted down right in front of him.  I don't recall seeing the orphanage director or anyone else for a few minutes.  

Then everyone else saw what was going on and pushed forward.  And they just jumped on him.  I keep imagining that he actually recognized us, thanks to all of "Aunt" Carol's hard work showing him pictures of us so often.  He didn't cry and after checking me out for just a couple of seconds, he broke into a huge grin.  His orphanage buddy, Louie, who also lived with Jeremiah at Shanghai Healing Home (more on that) was also there.  Everyone else in our group just jumped in there and started snapping pictures and making videos.  We had vowed to help each other capture as many moments as we could.  At that moment, I could not see anyone except Jeremiah and the rest of my family as they gathered around him.

It was surreal really, I don't know how else to put it.  It was a day that I had dreamed so much about, worked so hard for.  I had tried to prepare for it, but you never really can.  The emotions are completely overwhelming.  And being in a room filled with other people experiencing the same thing made every emotion intensified.  I used to be a very private person.  I like being alone.  When I was younger, I never wanted to talk to older women - I didn't want a mentor.  I didn't want to open up to anyone.   I just wanted to be inside my own head, to work it out alone.  As I have gotten older, I have found that you miss so much by not sharing life's personal moments and struggles with others.  We are all broken.  God sent me my first mentor about 12 years ago, and having her in my life has taught me that I need my sisters in Christ.  Stan needs his brothers.  We need people that we can share life's joys and heartaches with - God created us to live in community.

So, a community "delivery room" is about the best explanation I can think of for the Gotcha Day scenario when you have a large group like we did.  We would stare at our babies - still a bit in disbelief that the long anticipated day had come - hug them, and then carry them around the room to snap pictures and ooh and aah over our friend's babies.  For two hours we watched the children come in, we heard the cries and the laughter.  We took thousands of pictures and videos.  We laughed and cried with each other.  We took in the emotion of the reactions of others.  Some people laughed when they first saw their babies, some gave shy smiles and patiently waited for the children to make the first move, some barreled into it with no reservation (that was mostly the kids), some broke down in sobs, and some people literally fell to their knees - praising God and absolutely overcome.  It was a beautiful, glorious picture of heaven.  It was just a sliver of what that glorious day will look like.  When our faith culminates and all of our hopes become our reality.  Gotcha Day is just a little like that.  And I believe God was smiling.

By noon the last of the children had arrived.  We gathered our things and our new little ones and headed back to the buses.  Then began the work of bonding.  Grief is no joke.  And make no mistake, these kids are grieving.  But, they are tough and courageous.  They are made of the stuff of heroes.  Next post I will talk about the bonding process and how that has looked for our family.  It is so different for everyone and really nothing that can be predicted.  I do think that many people in the adoption world today are not prepared for the intensity of the grieving process and often give up too soon.  These precious souls have faced tragedies the likes of which most of us can not comprehend.  They are wounded.  But, they are oh so resilient.  So incredibly brave.  They fight for a fresh start and we have the holy opportunity to fight with and for them.  It is a privilege and an honor that we are so very grateful God has given to our family.  Thank you for reading and for being a part of our journey. Your prayers, your support, your love for our kids mean more than you can ever begin to know.

Journey to Jeremiah - Part 2

So, I am a worrier, a dreamer, and kind of a downer.

If you have read my blog long - or ever - you are thinking....duh.  NO way.

I dreamed up the absolute most fearful 12 hour flight to Beijing that you can imagine.  I mean, picture a Boeing 797 doing the stunts of the Blue Angels (and not on purpose).   You know, the one and only thing that is half way comforting about my ridiculous tendencies is that the reality is rarely as horrific as I dream it up to be.  The problem of course, is all the time I waste dreading something that I can't change.  I am pretty sure God speaks about that in Scripture many, many (many) times.

Anyway, as He always is, He was there.  "His faithfulness reaches to the heavens..." (and it certainly reaches up to 40,000 ft.)  If the flight was turbulent I don't recall.  Truly.  No fear.  And it actually went by way faster than I ever dared hope.

We landed in the Beijing Airport at 7:00 pm China time - the day AFTER we left Arizona.  Such a surreal thing - to "fly over" an entire day.  There was one other family from our travel group on our flight.  They also had three of their other children with them and our CCAI guide Jason was waiting for us at the baggage claim.

I want to pause to give a shout out to CCAI.  There are situations where your child's file can not be picked up by CCAI, and you can't use them.  But, you guys, if there is ANY way at all for you to use Chinese Children Adoption International - then you absolutely must.  I am sure there are other great agencies, but I can not imagine how anyone could be any better.  Their customer service is beyond compare.  Our guides did everything but tuck us in at night.  NO joke.  Maybe some people don't want to have their hands held, but for us rookie travelers - YES please.  Help me cross the street, I am so good with that.

Anyway, so Jason met us at the airport, with the bus (and driver - Master Su) and off to the hotel we went.  On the way, he gave us the schedule for the weekend's activities and lots of history of Beijing. Jason had a habit of repeating himself.  He said literally everything at least twice - and he hit the important things (like what time to be back on the bus the next day) three or four times in one sentence.  You could tell this was not Jason's first rodeo and he likely learned long ago that the Americans do not listen very well.

By the time we got into the room and settled, we were ready for bed.  Since we had eaten on the plane, we had some protein bars, took a melatonin (those things have literally saved my sanity these last few weeks), and off to sleep we went.  Considering our internal clocks were way off, we were up bright and early and off to breakfast in the hotel dining room where we met the rest of our travel group.  These families deserve their own post, so I won't go into much detail except to say that we met 13 other families during our time in China, and they are life long friends now.  No doubt, there are not that many people on the planet that I have shared moments as intimate as the ones we shared in that Gotcha room on the 15th.  We're getting there.....

After breakfast, we all went to the bus.  Jason showed up at breakfast in a BRIGHT yellow coat and a  large red flag with CCAI printed on it.  He was going to make sure that all of his charges were accounted for and safely delivered to the next city.  Bless him, he was awesome!!

The first day we toured Tienanmen Square and the Forbidden City.  Then, we took individual rickshaw rides to a private residence, where the owners served a home made lunch to our entire group.  With 14 families, lots of us bringing other children, and two bringing grandparents - we had a grand total of 43 traveling together.

It was a wonderful day of seeing the capital city and some of the most famous landmarks in China.  Glimpsing the culture of our future children was important and eye opening.  On the surface, I learned that the Chinese people are very cold natured, they love tall blonde Americans and follow them around like the paparazzi, they have no personal space limitations and don't mind walking in a herd with their bodies literally pressed together and moving along like a tidal wave.

On a deeper level, I learned that everyone should be the minority at some point.  Experiencing a period of time when I could not understand anyone, didn't look like anyone, and most often found everyone staring at me was disturbing and yet very profound.  It opened my heart just a little more to the plight of my brothers and sisters of all races and the prejudices that still sadly exist in our country. A nation that was founded to give shelter and refuge to the masses - meant to be a melting pot, a land of opportunity.  Yet, we have not come nearly far enough in areas that really matter.

I learned that Jeremiah's people are strong, beautiful, smart, and they are survivors.  The Chinese birth mamas have encountered so many many obstacles in creating their families.  Poverty, pollution, a government that controls your life so rigidly that it tells you how many babies you can deliver.  A medical system that prevents poor families who want to keep their babies from being able to do so because of finances.  The courage and bravery of the mamas and babas who would actually leave their babies in a public market, knowing they would be found, hoping against hope that they would be adopted - would I actually have that kind of selfless love and steadfast courage?  Would I?  Or would I hold my baby tight against my chest and refuse to give him up until he drew his last breath?  I honestly don't know.  As selfish as it sounds - I don't know if I would have the courage to give them up that way.  Not ever really knowing what happened to them.  Oh, how I wish I could hug Jeremiah's first mommy.  How I wish I could somehow tell her that he is loved, happy, and ok.  That we will do for him medically what she could not.  Somehow I imagine myself being able to communicate with her.  On some deep, primal level that only two people who passionately love the same little soul can do.  I pray that she just knows.  That two weeks ago a peace flooded her tormented soul.

China was amazing in so many ways.  It was a place of almost mystic haze.  It is steeped in ancient superstitions.  Beijing was old meets new in many ways.  The ancient landmarks, the traditional pagodas and architecture, the Great Wall, the temples, the Buddhas - all that in stark contrast to the absolutely breathtaking skyscrapers, concrete, cell towers, and thirty million residents pressed together in a huge mass of humanity.

We toured the Great Wall on Saturday.  It was freezing, it was a brutal climb, especially dragging a five year old who was "soooo cold he was going to diiiie right here on THE GREAT WALL OF CHINA!!!"  But, the view from the top (well, not quite the top, I couldn't drag Patrick that far) - but the view -- there are no words.  Over 4,000 miles of wall stretches across the northern part of the country.  Building the wall took the lives of an estimated 1,000,000 people - it is known as the "longest cemetery in the world."   It was absolutely breathtaking.

After we thawed out, we toured a jade factory, learned the history and significance of jade to the culture and had lunch at the restaurant on site.  It was a wonderful day, bonding even more with our group - dreaming about our babies who we would meet on Monday morning in a new city, and just soaking in the culture so that we will have so much to share with our kids when they are old enough to ask questions.

Jeremiah, we loved "your people."  We loved their soft smiles, their shy waves and quiet "hellos."  We love their jet black hair and beautiful almond shaped eyes.  We loved learning all that we could about the things that make China one of the most studied ancient cultures in all of history.  There is such an intensity there - we fell in love with the people.

Sunday morning we left early for the airport.  Again, our amazing guides made the in-country flight as painless as possible.  They gathered our luggage, collected our passports, drove us there, walked us in and received our boarding passes and hugged us good-bye at security.  We flew 2 hours south to Zhengzhou, the capital of Henan province, where in the wee hours of the next morning, 15 children - orphans no more - would begin to make their way from all over the countryside to one central office building in the middle of a bustling city.  Fourteen Mamas and Daddies, three grandparents, and more "extra" children than I can remember would be waiting to smother them with hugs and kisses.  Lollipops in abundance - tears, smiles, emotions that literally drive you to your knees.

Coming up next.....Gotcha Day!!!!

Eyes to See

My family dynamic is changing.  While we still have little ones, our kids are not all little anymore.  More often than not I feel out of control and like my life is flying past me.  I long for the days when I knew where everyone was all of the time because I controlled where everyone was, and everyone was under eight years old.  I long for the days snuggled up on the sofa, eating popcorn and reading stacks of books.  I long for the rainy afternoons and the excitement of watching a movie with mom.  Those days are gone.  Now we have fiancés and wedding planning, college, drivers permits, puberty, and graduations.  We will very soon have sons in law, grandchildren, and another adoption.  None of these are bad things.  In fact, they are all very very good things.  Just change.  And it is hard.

It is easy to long for what once was instead of embracing what is now.  I spend too much time dwelling on my failures.  Did my five year old spend too much time playing on the computer today?  Did my teenager and I have another argument?  Do my kids argue too much?  Do we laugh enough?  Did we sit down to a meal together this week?

These are the things that I spend my time on.  These things eat away at me.  Because you know what?  Like you, I want to get this right.  I know there are some things in life that you just don't get a second chance at.  I know that there are times when tragedy strikes and I want NO regrets.  None.  I want laughter and fun.  I want long days at the park and snuggles on the couch.  I want days free of electronics and laughter around the kitchen table.  I know that you do too.

But, life is not really like that.  It is a series of ups and downs.  There really are no constants.  It is alive and vibrant and highly charged.  Emotions run the gamut in mere hours around here.  And the truth is, I am a mess.  I am highly unorganized, I pretty much suck at home schooling - even though I love the lifestyle with all of my heart.  We have not done half the things I planned, I am an inconsistent disciplinarian.  My younger son is mostly out of control as is my laundry.  My housekeeping skills are non-existent, and I rarely follow through on any of my "threats" to get our chaos organized.

Here is the deal though.  As I looked around my house tonight here is what I saw.  First, crumbs and dishes.  So many crumbs and dishes.  More importantly though, I saw laughter.  I saw my family and some friends who are in town - and they were laughing, playing cards, drinking wine.  Yes, our feral five year old was climbing the plantation shutters and jumping down onto the sofa, so there's that.  I sat for a minute and remembered the day.  Not the too much computer part or the arguing part.  Not the part where I wonder if my kids will make it through life because I am sure I have done something to land them in the therapist's office. 

I focused on what is going to matter in 30 years.  The laughter, the card games, the chocolate I let them eat at bedtime, the sticky kisses.  The news they couldn't wait to share with me at midnight.  The discussions around the table.  The friends we opened our home to.  The food we cooked together and the pop of the wine corks.  The stroll through the Farmer's Market every Saturday morning and sharing a home made cookie.

 My teenagers hold my hand and walk with their arms around me - in public.  My five year old tells me he loves me - literally three or four times an hour.  Our children give up their bedrooms a few times a year for weeks at a time for us to host families who come out to adopt babies through our orphan advocacy ministry.  They do this with loving and compassionate hearts and mostly no complaining.  They have shown absolutely nothing but pure excitement during our current adoption process.  Twenty-somethings who are giddy over adopting a three year old , bringing their sibling number to six and counting, are not the norm in our culture, I am sure of that. 

I am so incredibly humbled by what God has blessed me with.  I do not deserve it. 

My prayer is that I can stop focusing on the parts where I feel like I fail and start stepping back to get a better view of the big picture.  What will matter in 30 years?  The answer is, absolutely none of the things I negatively dwell on.  Only what is done for Christ will remain - faith, hope and love.  Laughter, memories, and traditions.  Games, jumping on the bed, and reading stacks of books past bedtime.  Late night chats and popcorn.  Snuggling on the couch, watching family movies, and dinner around the table. 

God give me the wisdom to see what is right in front of me.

Ask Him

When we adopted Patrick five years ago, Stan and I traveled to AZ to get him and to finish the necessary paperwork.  (We lived in FL at the time).  We were in the state for ten days, staying in a hotel.  Of course, there are only so many hours in a day that you can sit in a hotel room, even with a nine day old baby.  So my germophobic self had to get over it, wrap him up where no one could touch him (I'm not kidding) and head out and about town for a few hours every day.  

Always someone would ask about the baby.  I did not really intend to tell everyone we met that we were adopting a baby, but it is really odd to see a woman, who does not appear to have just given birth, walking around with a days old baby.  Then, folks would say the inevitable, "Where are you from?" - because y'all, I left the south 20 years ago, but it has not left me.  When I would say Florida - the looks were crazy, because we were in Arizona with a five pound newborn.  So, of course I had to explain - and you all know that it is NO trouble to me at all to tell about adoption and how awesome it is!!  

What broke my heart though were the comments about the older kids.  It did not only happen once, it happened almost every single time.  The person would say, "Oh, is this your first baby?"  Then, I would look at them like they were crazy, because again y'all - I know my hubby looks A-MAZING (even if I may be a bit biased) but seriously, we are far from 25.  But, I guess people are having their first babies later and later these days.  Anyway, I would reply, "Oh no, he is our fifth."  To which you can imagine the looks and comments that followed.  But, the saddest part was when I would share that we had two 16 year olds.  Every single person said, "Oh my gosh, aren't they mad?"  

MAD?!?!?

There were so many emotions that my kids would have used to describe their feelings during our adoption.  SO many.  But, MAD????  

Friends, if we are raising children who would be mad about God calling their family into the world of adoption, no matter how old they are - there is a problem.  And there most certainly is a problem.  We only have to look around us at the lovers of self, haters of responsibility, entitled group of people that populate our world.  But, as followers of Jesus Christ - how DARE we?  In the Scriptures, Luke tells us that "To those whom much is given, much is expected."  Spiderman says it too, "With great power, comes great responsibility."   

My teenagers were ecstatic.  In fact, we sat in our hotel room the majority of the hours every day with our computer open to a live Skype page where our kids could watch Patrick sleep all day.  We all sat with tears streaming because we were not together for those ten days.  Patrick came home on Lyndsey's 12th birthday, and though we tried to celebrate her that day, she ONLY had eyes for her new brother.  Good gracious, she never gave a thought to her birthday celebration.  And she certainly was not mad or jealous or even a speck upset.  She was thrilled!!!  They all were.  Adding children to your family should not subtract anything - it should only multiply.

My older kids have stated over and over and over (as have the older children of all of our friends who have adopted or given birth to a second "set") - that having these babies during their teen years is freeing.  It takes their minds off of themselves and their "issues."  Adoption helps you see the big picture a little bit clearer.  Your acne issues take a back seat to a child without a mom or dad, and visiting an orphanage in a foreign country kind of puts your "problems" into a little bit of perspective.  I am not downplaying the teen years - well, maybe I am a little - don't you wish you could shake your 16 year old self and scream "Get over him, he is NOT the one!" and these things you think are the end of the world will not even be a distant memory in ten years, they will be absolutely nothing.  The best IS yet to come, but the teen years seem so huge and looming.  

Yet, just a little perspective goes a long way.  Babies and toddlers lend perspective if nothing else.  They are not respecters of privacy and they are quite selfish themselves.  However, they have a sixth sense about when you just need a hug and when they grip your face in their chubby hands and pull you towards them for a sweet sweet kiss, everything else fades.  And you have never seen anything as precious as a toddler and his 17 year old brother building a block house together.  Patrick adores his siblings.  He makes them laugh.  He has been the one who has gotten our family through our cross country move - which has been difficult.  Every one of them has said that they have no idea what would have happened if we had not had Patrick.  

God knew.  

There is never a morning that I don't wake up, look at his sleepy bed head next to mine on the pillow and thank God that we did not miss this.

Below is Patrick playing "Duck Duck Goose" on campus with Joshua and his friends.  These are 21 year old men, who love and invest in our son.  They want us to visit, they want us to bring Patrick and they genuinely enjoy him.  Friends, THIS is the way it should be.  

And we are not great people, or even nice people all of the time.  We are just a family.  That's it.  We love each other, but we are so very far from perfect.  We fight, we stumble, we grumble and we have our moments of pure selfishness.  But, at the end of the day - we know that God makes the BEST plans.  He does.

Ask Him what He has for you.  It may just be a "who" instead of a "what" and it may just change your life.

America, America.......

Independence Day is upon us.  I have much to say, but I will try not to ramble.

 I admire so much the men and women in our military who daily risk their lives to preserve the freedoms that our Founding Fathers fought so hard to secure for us.  I feel those freedoms slipping away from us with startling speed - however, the men and women in uniform still deserve our respect and honor.  They will get that from my family and me.

I will continue to teach our children the truths of history.  Some of it is good and right and some of it  very bad.  All of it is necessary so that we do not repeat it.  Many, if not most, people in this country do not understand that concept and therefore have not learned the lessons that history begs to teach us.  We are enduring the fallout of that ignorance, again with startling speed.

Of course, as a follower of Christ, I believe the truths of Scripture to be the most important of all.

Proverbs 14:34, "Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people."

The "sin" in my mind when reading this verse is likely not what you are thinking.  I refuse to debate the recent court ruling or anything else that falls into the realm of "moral judgement" in this light.

The sin that most concerns me, is MINE.

2 Chronicles 7:14, "If my people who are called by my name, humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land."  

As Bible believers, the sin that is destroying this nation is not the sin of others - it is all OURS.  The blame for the state of the union can be laid squarely at the feet of His followers.  God is ON the throne, He is IN control - and I believe He is grieved right now.  Not because our nation has strayed so far.  Not because atheists don't believe in Him.  Not because other religions worship other gods.  No, I believe He is grieved over the hard hearts of His children.

We, who insist on blurring the lines in our own lives and then throwing stones at everyone else.  We, who insist on screaming "immoral" at others while our own hearts are wrought with adultery, lust, fornication and pornography.  We, who ignore justice - which God mentions in Scripture many many more times than He mentions the things that appear to "offend" us so deeply.  We ignore the millions of babies who go to bed every night without a Mommy or Daddy - you KNEW this was coming, didn't you??  We ignore the widows who cry themselves to sleep wondering how they are going to put food for their tables.  We ignore the hungry, the cold, the homeless.  And we cry "FOUL" at something else, simply because it offends our sensibilities.  Or, maybe to deflect from our own sin.

I have an idea - and I think it is a pretty good one, no matter which side of the political line you land on (or maybe you, like me, are sick of politics and political correctness in general).  If you claim Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, let's be about His business.  HIS business.  Hint:  You are going to have to actually read the Bible to know what that is.  The answer will likely surprise many of you.

Friends, we have more than enough to do to keep us busy until He returns.  Both within our own hearts and in the world.

America, as great of a nation as it is - and I still believe it is - is NOT the Hope of the world.  We are not that great, and frankly we never were.  Jesus is the hope of the world.  The ONLY hope.  America, however, still tenaciously holds on to the virtue of freedom.  Those who want to rip that from our fabric may be loud, but they are not the majority.  Not yet.  I realize most Americans foolishly believe that the rest of the universe revolves around us - but if you take the time to learn about other countries and the plight of their people (particularly their orphans - there it is again, sorrynotsorry) - then you will know that we still have it pretty good.  For now.

Teach your children the lessons that history is begging them to know.  Teach them about Nazi Germany.  Teach them about the Confederate flag and the Civil War.  Teach them the things that have oppressed us in the past.  Don't rewrite history - but learn from it.  This country - this world -  needs more educated, brave, humble and loving men and women who are willing to STAND firm for true freedom.  And folks, that only comes from ONE source.

Galatians 5:1 "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore and do not submit again to the yolk of slavery."

Happy 4th y'all!!!

Waiting and Other Random Thoughts

 

 

Waiting stinks.  I'm just saying. 

 

This gorgeous face is not our son.  It is just an image I pulled off of a public website of a little boy of Ch*inese origin who is the exact same age as our guy.  I can not wait to show you our Jeremiah.  My youngest son.  I know he will remain our youngest - I feel it.  He is my baby.  And this could easily be him.  I can not wait to kiss those cheeks.

 

 

 

  We are currently about 3/4 of the way through the 8,000 and some odd miles that we will put on our car this summer.  Our third annual cross country road trip.  My car, well.... it deserves its own post - a tribute of sorts to the way it has faithfully carried us across the country and back - the count will be nine times once we get back in a few weeks.  It has some dings and dents - some cracks and bangs.  It is missing a couple of non-vital parts.  It smells like something distinct and not exactly pleasant.  My husband hates it.  The kids complain about scrunching up together in the back seat - long gangly, adult limbs criss crossed around each other in pretzel like fashion.  I tell them they will miss these days.  They will want them  back.  They tell me I sound like a country song.  It's true - both of those things.  I do sound like  country song, but they WILL want this back. 

I know they will because I do.  I want all of my kids to be five again - yes, all of them.  At the same time. (ha)  Five is good.  Five is independent, but still snuggly.  Five is all wide eyed wonder at the wonderful world God created.  Five is loving Mama and Daddy and thinking we are awesome.  Five is "I'm going to marry YOU Mama."  Five is tender towards God and quick to laugh.  Five is hugs and tickles and middle of the night snuggles.  Five is cuddling on the couch on a rainy afternoon with a stack of books and a bowl of popcorn.  Five is safe at home -- learning, laughing, praying, building Legos -- together.

Alas, five is not a realistic life long expectation.  I know that.  Growing up, spreading wings, flying off into the wild blue yonder into the gloriously messy adventure that God planned is realistic.  My kids are products of a couple of decades of prayer and fasting.  They are exactly what I prayed they would be - and all I can say is, be careful what you pray for.  If it follows in close alignment with the heart of God - you will probably get it. 

My kids are independent, hard working, self-sufficient.  They are adventurous, daring, and absolutely fearless.  So many traits that I wish I had possessed at their ages.  They are absolutely UNafraid to follow God to the ends of the earth.  Seventeen hour flight to Africa, with people I have never seen before in my life, to spend two weeks ministering to orphans and street kids - at age 18 -- I got this Mom!  Months living dorm style in NYC ministering to young girls rescued from sex slavery.  Volunteering in a pre-school class for three year olds with special needs day after day. Making the President's List in their Honors College semester after semester, working hard, meeting great friends, volunteering, traveling to Europe, following Jesus.  Making plans to live a whole year in Africa working with orphans with severe medical needs, living in NYC ministering to the homeless, serving on a Mercy Ship in the middle of the Indian Ocean for a year.  

These things and more are what my kids are about these days.  I love it.  It is exactly what I prayed for - but you know what all these things have in common?  They are far, far away from me.  Our family is not longer contained.  We have spread out.  It is normal.  It is right.  It is exciting.  And it makes my heart hurt.  It is a perfect example of how Joy and Sorrow can so closely abide together.  My heart is full to bursting with Joy for my children and how they are serving God every single day.  I am full of joyful anticipation about the adventures that are around the corner.  But, when I allow myself to think too hard I feel the sorrow building in my heart.  I miss their former selves.  I miss what our days used to look like.  It hurts.  However, the memories are there, and I will hold on to them with a grateful heart. 

All the while, we wait and pray - and thank God that He is giving me the opportunity to have five year old snuggles for a bit longer.  I pray I am never far from a five year old. 

Jeremiah - Mommy gazes at your picture, prays for you continuously, and longs for the day that I hold you in my arms.

Wisdom

A friend shared a blog post on Facebook the other day and the title of the blog struck me.  Wisdom Comes Suddenly.   I have not been able to get that phrase out of my mind.  That and the sentence where she says, "you will not find wisdom until the 1000th mopping - so go to it Grasshopper."

I have mulled this over in my mind for the past week and I agree so much with this statement.  Wisdom Comes Suddenly.  I am not talking about Stay at Home versus Working Moms.  Like this blog post author - I will not participate in a battle where everyone loses.  What is wisdom?  Proverbs says so much about wisdom.  In chapter 17 it says, "The discerning sets his face towards wisdom, but the eyes of the fool are on the ends of the earth."  Psalm 111 tells us that "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."

Knowledge is easily attainable, especially in our culture.  Google (or Giggle as my four year old calls it) makes information pour into our homes at the touch of a button.  I have read that we have more access per hour to news and other "real time" information than people just 150 years ago ever attained in their lifetimes.  It is staggering, overwhelming, and really just too much.  But, does it make us truly wise?

I am a reader.  I read 3-4 novel sized books per week - some fiction, some on adoption, becoming a doula, alternative medicine - countless articles and blog posts, home school our children with a literature based curriculum, and spend 10-15 hours a week researching things that interest me.  I pretty much have a photographic memory, so my little brain is packed with information that I can't forget - believe me, sometimes I try.  I am not really all that smart - Math eludes me and it has taken teaching Biology three times for it to finally begin to click.  We will not even bring up the word Chemistry.  Does all of this make me wise?

The answer is absolutely NO.

Wisdom comes from only one Person - and only one Book.

And in my experience, it takes you by surprise.  I remember clearly one of my "wisdom" moments.  I would love to share it with you.  It happened at 2:30 am on the bathroom floor.  Maybe this is why the "go to it Grasshopper" statement resonated with me so clearly.  It was last March - 2013 and our entire family had the stomach virus.  Never have we all had it at the same time and never have I felt so miserable.  I had just changed the sheets on the couch where I was sleeping with my 2 year old because I had already changed the bed sheets three times that night and just couldn't think of doing it again.  So, I made a thick pallet on the leather sofa and put him there.  I had not been to sleep yet - between changing the bed sheets, taking fluids to the other 6 members of the family, bathing the baby over and over, and of course taking time to puke myself every half hour or so.  It was the perfect storm for a "Mom Pity Party."  As I sat down softly beside my sleeping toddler, warm with fever, and started to gently stretch out behind him, I glanced over at my also feverish 12 year old sleeping in the recliner.  Suddenly, he jumped up - the type of movement that only comes when you are startled from a deep sleep by the need to puke your guts up - and flew to the bathroom.  He made it to the doorway.

Yeah.

Did I mention that this was a violent, uncontrollable stomach virus?  The type that projects the contents of your stomach up and out with bizarre force?

Yeah.

"you will not find wisdom until the 1000th mopping...."  Sometimes all 1,000 happen in.the.same.day.

It was wicked nasty.  It was everywhere.  It stunk.  It made me puke - literally.  And as I sank to my knees again, scrub brush in hand - I cried.  Not tears of frustration, not tears of pity.  I cried tears of thanks.  Wisdom washed over me in that little hall bathroom as I sat there covered in virulent body fluids.  Yes, it was a mess, but is was my mess.  My responsibility.  My little corner of the world where I could minister.  And it mattered.

There is nothing good in me.  Nothing patient, nothing kind, and nothing that desires to scrub a puke infested house 1,000 times.  That, my friends, does not come from anywhere except God Himself.

I wish I could say that I function every moment in the wisdom that I have attained.  I don't.  I mess up - over and over.  But, sometimes I get another glimpse.  And the closer I get to Him, the more glimpses I get.  Spiritually, there is no other high that compares.  Physically, it is usually messy, smelly, and just plain undesirable.  Kind of like my hall bathroom during the puke fest.

But folks, God does not exist for our comfort.  We exist for His glory.  At the end of every day I want to be snuggled closer to Jesus than I was yesterday - and I have a lot of stinky flesh for Him to cut away.  It hurts sometimes.  But more than anything I desire for Him to use me.  He doesn't need me, He can use anyone - I want Him to use me for my little corner.

"My son, eat honey, for it is good,
And the drippings of the honeycomb are sweet to your taste.
Know that wisdom is such to your soul;
If you find it, there will be a future,
And your hope will not be cut off."  Proverbs 24:13-14

Faithful Faithful God

My Sweet P - 2010, 2011, 2012


Time is passing too fast for my taste.  When I look at this sweet boy and how much he has changed and grown in just two and half short years I have to catch my breath.  Seriously, it is just amazing to me that the little chubby grump on the far left (he was sick at the time as you can tell from the rash all over him) is the same little boy as the one on the far right.  Be still my heart!!

This is my dream baby.  I have said it before and I will say it over and over again because next to my relationship with Christ and my husband and raising my children to walk in Truth - adoption is the single greatest passion in my life.  I have lots of soapboxes that I used to think of as passions.  I have lots of things that get me excited and that I could talk about for hours if given a chance.  You've heard them all before - home schooling, to vaccinate or not to vaccinate, alternative and nutritional healing, organic whole food nutrition - and this time of year, politics.  These things are important to me and yes, I have strong opinions on each one - just ask me - I dare ya.

BUT, other than Jesus and my family - nothing, nothing, nothing even holds a candle to how I feel about the orphan.

NOTHING.

Every morning I wake up snuggled up next to this baby boy (yeah, add co-sleeping to the above list) and I remember what God has done in our family.  As he rolls over, blinks those huge eyes open and looks up at me with a grin, I can't imagine that life could possibly get any better than this.  I look into his eyes and I remember.  I remember that two and half years ago he was lying in a NICU unit of a children's hospital.  A tiny, preemie born addicted to drugs. A baby who no doubt would have ended up just another statistic in the foster system.

But, God had other plans.  Plans to rescue us.  Yes, I said us.  Adoption is not about rescuing babies.  As John Piper said, "We don't adopt to be the rescuers, we adopt because we are the rescued."  God, in His sovereignty and amazing grace rescued me.  A sinner with nothing good inside of me apart from Him.  He rescued me and now I get to play a part in His redemptive work.  Patrick is the one who saved us.  He saved us from a life of selfishness.  He saved our other children from the typical teenage attitude of entitlement.  He saved Stan and me from saying, "We're too old to start over."  Because when you get the privilege of seeing life through the eyes of a baby, there is no room for thinking only of yourself.  The delight in his two year old eyes at the sight of a dusty pumpkin patch brings a smile to the face of even the most belligerent of us.  His squeals of ecstasy at the prospect of baking a batch of "choc cookies" brightens up even the worst of days.

This baby, the one I dreamed about my whole life - the one who grew in my heart instead of my belly - he has been a delight to our entire family.  None of us can imagine what we would have been without him.  He has brought joy to our lives.  His story has been an influence on many others we know about to adopt and I pray many that we don't know about have or will adopt as well.  Stan and I were not young, we already had more than the average amount of children, and starting over is not necessarily the popular thing to do in our culture.  Basically, we had our "hands full" already.  The thing is though, when God steps into your world, you can't go on unchanged.  When God calls, you must answer.  You must allow yourself to break for what breaks His heart.

Friends, orphans in crisis break the very heart of God.

They do.  Children who look at you with eyes just longing to be loved break the heart of God.  He desires that every child have a mommy and/or daddy to kiss them goodnight.  He desires that they have a family to call their own.  I promise you from the depths of my heart that you will receive the biggest blessing.

God is always faithful.  If adoption has been on your heart and you are making excuses, then stop.  There are no valid excuses.  Not age, not finances, not time.  If you are struggling with all the practical questions, please take a few minutes to read my friend Linny's blog posts entitled "He is NOT a Deadbeat Dad."  I have linked the first one and then you can follow her links to the other three parts.

God's heart is FOR the orphan.  Every.single.time.  He will never never never disappoint.