Raw Honest Truth

A friend asked me recently if there was any news on our international adoption because she hadn't seen a blog post in a long time. I was reminded that not everybody is on Facebook, so some people don't get my regular updates.

I haven't blogged in a while because it feels like I'm always saying the same thing about our adoption: we need one more paper (and that paper always is changing); it's out of our hands; your prayers are appreciated.

And that's pretty much where we're still at, but with an added urgency for an expedited process. The Federal Court in Ethio closes every year for a "rainy season" closure. We don't know the exact dates this year (they tend to change from year to year), but most likely they will close from August 6 until mid-October.

So, if we don't get a court date ASAP, we're looking at several more months before M, M, and D can join our family. Typically when the judge agrees to hear a case, he sets a court date about 4-6 weeks later. So it is imperative that we get a date ASAP to beat the August 6 closure.

I was asked recently via email how I'm dealing with the delays, and this is how I responded:  

This morning as I checked email yet again hoping to hear some good news from our agency, I was reminded of back when I was single and obsessed with some guy, and I would constantly check voice mail/email, etc. for a message. It's the same now. I'm addicted to checking for messages.


When I do get a message from our agency--and it's about something other than our kids--I am supremely annoyed. Like how dare they waste my time with info about a conference call recording or a new webinar or a program update! My feelings aren't particularly rational or logical. :) I vacillate between having a great attitude and being fully confident that God will accomplish this at just the right time ... to being all-out angry and frustrated and disappointed with God. Sometimes I ride the roller coaster several times in one day. And wow is it tiring! I've never been so tired in all my life from doing nothing but waiting. My mind feels preoccupied most of the day.


And then there's all the FB adoption groups I'm a part of. Some are super encouraging and informative, but others are like watching a train wreck. It kills me to hear stories of children who were probably trafficked, and the adoptive parents are the last to find out. Or their home becomes a living hell after the child gets home, and they question whether they should have adopted. 

God has clearly only given me grace for today (most days!) but I am not equipped to deal with possible future problems for which I have not been graced-up.

We willingly stepped into this journey knowing it would be difficult, so we're certainly not looking for sympathy. But my best self-therapy is writing, and the best thing for our family is prayer. Hopefully today's raw, honest truth accomplishes both.

Thanks for walking with us. We love and appreciate you.

It's Beyond Me

When I was a young girl, maybe 8 or 9 years old, my friend invited me to go to the Y with her and her mom.

I didn't know how to swim, but being a tall kid, I usually managed to keep my head above water and had a good time in the pool.

Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly aware of what my height was, because I jumped in the pool at a spot where it was way too deep.

And by "way too deep," I don't mean it was super deep. But it was over my head.

I remember gasping for air, waving my arms frantically, and swallowing a whole lot of water. It was a terrifying, desperate, out-of-control feeling.

To this day I am not a big fan of being underwater.

. . .

I was driving down the road last week, on my way to somewhere I don't remember, and I thought, "Wow...I am so tired. And I've been tired for a while now."

I try to be positive on my blog and in my FB updates about this crazy adventure we're on, but truthfully, it's exhausting. It seems like every day we hear something new from our adoption agency. Great news one day, terrible news the next. Up, down, up, down, up, down. Rollercoasters ain't got nothing on this ride.

Sometimes I feel like throwing in the towel. I hate to admit that, but I do. And then I remember the sweet faces of three Ethiopian kids. A brother and two sisters who don't have a mom or a dad. Who don't have a home. Who don't have stability. Who don't have the love of a family.

And so we press on.

This song says it all.

Doubting in the Dark

When we tell people we're adopting a sibling group of three, we get a few different responses.

"That's awesome! So excited for you! How can we help?" (Our favorite response, of course.)

"Wow." Followed by an awkward silence. (Yah, that's awkward.)

"Oh my. Do you think you're ready for this?" (As a matter of fact, no we are not. I mean, who is ever prepared for parenthood?"

"How many bedrooms does your house have?" (Still has three, last I checked.) "Well, where will you put all those kids?" (Gee, I don't know. In a dresser drawer? Or maybe, (gasp), they could share bedrooms?)

And my favorite, and by favorite I mean not my favorite, "You're so brave!" Implications include: What if these adopted kids turn into drug-crazed serial killers? What if your husband loses his job and you have FOUR children to support? Etc. Etc.

I admit I read into things a lot, and my own fears, doubts and insecurities play a major role in how I interpret things.

So here's the truth: I'm not brave. Ken's not brave (although braver than me). We're just doing what we think God wants us to do. He has opened so many doors and made it so obvious that we are to walk down this path ... that to not walk down this path would be outright sin. For us.

Some days I feel downright scared. You see, when we started this process, our finanical situation was a bit different. And now instead of the cost of adopting one child, we have the cost of adopting three.

But this is life. We all have unexpected things happen that alter the landscape.
And we have willingly chosen to do this.

My point is that sometimes we look like we're taking a big leap of faith--like adopting a child from Ethiopia--when in fact it's not faith at all. When we started this process, we had the desire to adopt; it wasn't like God was asking us to do something we felt averse to. We had the support of friends and family. And we had almost all the funds we needed, so there was little faith involved. It seemed right, doable.

And God laughed.

Apparently He wanted to stretch us. He wanted us to see that this was His doing, not ours.

He has blessed us in so many unexpected ways. Our garage sale last month generated more than a thousand dollars. Then our church's Vacation Bible School kids raised money for us as their special project. They raised more than $1,100!  And my sisters organized an adoption shower, and tons of friends gave us gift cards to help us feather our expanding nest. And did I mention that I totally furnished our girls' bedroom for $66? Adorable matching dressers, a nightstand, twin beds, and two mattresses. $66! That's God right there.

It's humbling to be given so much. You guys, it is humbling to be given so much. 

We prayed that our community (church, friends, family) would be involved in this adoption. We know that it takes a village to raise a kid, and a church to raise a Christian. And that prayer has been answered.

But it's still scary. Because now we are operating on faith. We don't know how we will manage going from a family of three to a family of six. We don't know what it will take to transition three children into a new family in a new country with a new language and new food.

But we know that God is able. And He is good. And He loves D, M, and L way more than we do.

These children have spent a long time in an orphanage. Too long. But we believe God will redeem those years. In the Bible God promises that He will repay for the years "the locusts have stolen." And we hang on to this promise for our kids. All of them. We want, more than anything, to bear witness to their redemption story. We want to see the goodness of God gloriously displayed in their lives. We want to be a part of their next chapter--and all the subsequent chapters of their lives.

So if you think we're brave, think again. Crazy might be closer to reality.

One of my favorite quotes says, "Don't doubt in the dark what God has shown you in the light." So that's what we're doing. Or rather what we're not doing.

Some days feel dark and confusing and scary. Other days feel light and hopeful and exciting. But every day is good, because God is good.

The Lord says, “I will give you back what you lost
    to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts,
the stripping locusts, and the cutting locusts....
    Once again you will have all the food you want,
    and you will praise the Lord your God,
who does these miracles for you.
    Never again will my people be disgraced.

Then you will know that I am among my people...
    that I am the Lord your God, and there is no other.   Joel 2:25-27