Offense

No news yet. There are many variables at play in us receiving our referral — more than I want to detail on this blog. In short, our agency (working under the umbrella of another agency’s NGO license), is slightly limited, at the moment, in providing us concrete answers about the process. This is not for lack of asking and pursuing on our part or on theirs (we love our agency!). Now that our paperwork is complete we’ve crossed over from the “easy” part of adoption — the U.S. side — to the more challenging part of adoption — dealing with a developing country and cross-cultural lines of communication.

Hmmm … can’t quite say the past 9 months have been without hiccups as we’ve been plugging away on this side of the paperwork trail. Nevertheless, we’re now beginning the mount to the summit. No more baby pool.

In all honesty I’ve just been battling deep discouragement and questioning whether this process will ever bring the fruition of children into our home. There have been many highs and lows along the way and, for the moment, I seem to be stuck in a valley. As I’ve had the gift of time (and it feels that way) to sit before God and bring to him my most recent bought of tears, I have wrestled with offense.

As much as I’d like to live in a vacuum — just me and God — I can’t help but look around me and make comparisons. Why did God allow this route for our lives? Why even - after pursuing adoption - have we seemed to hit every obstacle we could have in the process? What is it about us? And the grand question I even hesitate to put in this blog, much less on paper in my journal: what if this door shuts and we don’t get to adopt? What then, God?

These thoughts are new for me. In general I see the goodness of God emerging out of every nook and cranny. Not in any sort of manufactured way. I just haven’t been able to deny it. But this last leg of the race, with an ever growing length to the finish line, has made me tired. And in my tiredness I’ve seen seeds of offense towards God in my heart and mind.

After some days sitting in this here’s what I’ve come to …

Then the disciples of John reported to him concerning all these things. And John, calling two of his disciples to him, sent them to Jesus, saying, “Are You the Coming One, or do we look for another?” When the men had come to Him, they said, “John the Baptist has sent us to You, saying, ‘Are You the Coming One, or do we look for another?’” And that very hour He cured many of infirmities, afflictions, and evil spirits; and to many blind He gave sight. Jesus answered and said to them, “Go and tell John the things you have seen and heard: that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the gospel preached to them. And blessed is he who is not offended because of Me.

-Luke 7:18-23

Jesus was offensive to those who saw things with their natural eyes. He offended even the religious of His time, simply because He was operating under an authority that was different than the authority of this world.

Sure, I’ve always known and thought that. I’ve pictured myself during the times when He walked the earth, wondering where I would have stood if there was a man in my town entering funeral parlors and raising the dead, visiting hospitals and fully healing those who were taking their last breaths of life.

The question though, in this current scenario we’re faced with, is How do I approach Him when it seems obvious what the GOOD outcome would be and He — in spite of all of our prayers and pleadings — has not yet produced that outcome. You see, I can’t really argue against a loved one whom I was mourning for being given another chance at life, or a friend with chronic pain being fully healed. (Although, I note that people in Jesus’ time standing beside friends and family who were healed were plagued with cynicism.)

But, a natural desire to be parents colliding with children who are desperate for a home…and God brings delays?

I don’t know. I don’t understand. As hard as I’ve tried to wrap my mind around the “why’s” of our longing coupled with delay, I don’t get it.

The shift that brings relief is in my decision to see Him with more than just my “natural eyes” or to ask for spiritual wisdom and understanding into my circumstance. And anyone can do this. For whatever reason I feel the need to ask you reading what is it you may need to see with eyes other than your own? What might He reveal if you chance a look through His lens?

I’ve found that this is where freedom from offense lies. Once I’ve submitted to being under His plan and His leadership I’ve forfeited offense as my right. And if I still find offense within me, I have to wonder if I’ve really surrendered to Him at all.

Could it be that this whole process is further evoking a lifestyle of surrender? It’s one thing to join the crowds following Jesus when the blessing flows but, as Job says “Shall we indeed accept good from God, and shall we not accept adversity?” (Job 2:10)

When Jesus, later, talks about the last days He says this:

And many will be offended. -Matthew 24:10

I don’t want to be offended because of Him. My mind and life so easily migrate towards natural thoughts and ways, when God — even this week — is saying contemplate My ways (Ps 119:15). And this little stubborn mule is inching further along the spectrum of trusting that His ways might actually be better than mine. He really is safe. And I don’t want to be found as one who, at the end of my life here on this earth, turned away or — maybe worse — didn’t press in to know more of Him because of the offense I’ve allowed to lodge within my heart.

So, I turned a corner today. Sure, I hit “send/receive” on my email about 27 times in one hour wondering if we’d get news in my inbox. . . we are not relenting in our prayers for breakthrough. The prayer we’ve added, though, is this:

God, if you are going to take us down a route of unexpected twists and turns that are causing our hearts grieve, let it not be without the benefit of deeper communion with You. If You must take us here, then we ask — we plead — for a greater outpouring of Your Spirit in our hearts and a greater awareness of Your love to abound in our lives.

Protect us from offense, God.

Is It Today?

Every morning we wake up and I wonder if today is going to be the magical day when we receive news about our referral. This morning as I sink into my favorite chair with a cup of tea and my bible I can’t help but feel like I did as a kid just days before my birthday.

I am FILLED with anticipation.

And this morning, especially, I am feeling God’s delight over me in this anticipation.

It reminds me of my niece’s first birthday … This day was no different than any other day to her. The “eat, poo, play, sleep” cycle was only slightly interrupted by shiny wrapping paper–more exciting to her than contents they served to hide–and by food she was allowed to play with: the birthday cake.

Yet, you would have thought we were at NASA waiting for the latest space-shuttle launch. A bunch of adults gathered around, snapping pictures at every giggle and booty-shake with unusual enthusiasm. My sister and brother-in-law the most thrilled of the bunch.

I think this is how God sees me and Nate today — and, really, every day as we wait. We have absolutely no idea what the “shiny wrapping” of our any-minute-now referral is actually enclosing for our lives. In fact, we’re probably more prepared right now for filling our wallets with those pictures and showing off our two new beauties than we are for late night fevers and early morning temper tantrums. But my point is that God loves it.

In most recent years I realize that’s a lot of what I’ve missed along the way in my journey with God–seeing the delight God feels over me. The joy He takes in me, His daughter.

This morning, as I bask in the glow of being an expectant mom, the words echoing across the International House of Prayer webstream that fill our somewhat-empty home are saying  what I’m experiencing (as so often happens) . The singers today are singing “Every time I hear Your words of life I’m falling in love with You.”

Somehow knowing that I’m not only “loved” but delighted-in by God makes it that much more natural to love Him back.

He rescued me because He delighted in me. 2 Samuel 22:20

What To Expect When You’re Adopting

I could write a variation of the book that rests on many an expectant mom’s nightstand, one I’ve even given as a shower gift (What To Expect When You’re Expecting), for the adoption world. I haven’t yet done a google search to see if this book has been written, but if it hasn’t my manuscript is below. Any agents want to jump on this one? Here goes:

Have no expectations.

The world’s shortest book — probably would fall in the category of Scholastic Reader Level 1.

As I type I’m realizing this sounds a lot more cynical than I feel. In fact at the moment I’m actually enjoying this ride that, other than an official start, has done anything but follow the mapped-out course.

I’ve tried my best to put a grid to cost, timing, anticipated emotional expenditure, daily life and faith impact … to no avail. And today, as we have received notice that the paperwork phase of this process is complete and we are officially “Waiting” (a term adoptive parents use to describe the period of time after their paperwork has been completed/authenticated before they get their referral), I laugh. We’ve fumbled our way along and landed in a category that’s finally fitting. And — not to mention — where we’ll probably be for the rest of our time on this earth.

Our stay in this “waiting” phase of the adoption could last a day, a week or, who knows, maybe longer. My expectations of timing are eroding.

In the meantime, however, my expectations of God have only grown. The grip I’ve had on this process and how it should go is being loosened (and trust me, there’s no self-will in this … eventually everyone in their lifetime is undone by circumstances they can’t control. I am just fortunate enough to get my training early.). Simultaneously and not unrelated is my growing thirst for a fully-redeemed world, another age.

What looks like resignation to a process of pin-the-tail on the donkey, after being spun around more times than necessary, is a divine move of my Creator to stir in me a longing for my real home. Jesus never meant for this earth — and the systems, leadership, and authority structure that are in place — to “work” for me. The only thing that will never fail is Him. And, until He makes things new on this earth, the systems–and our circumstances–are likely to fall short in our expectations. But every shortfall, pointing to our need for another age and a greater Kingdom.

We’re sort of stuck with our expectations of the process having not been met.  But should we be surprised? If I peel back that circumstantial layer I *see*, a new reality, operating parallel to and higher than the one that seems most obvious. I see God, who has set apart girls that, from the beginning of time, were ordained to be ours. He is crafting the timing such that those specific girls land in our arms at the moment our hearts are most ready to receive them. All the while making His mark deeper and deeper in our hearts.

It’s all pretty cool, really.

Thoughts from the BabyMoon

Nate and I had a “complimentary” trip to the Caribbean just about fall in our laps. Little did we know that our trip, pieced together in just a few weeks, would be hand-picked by God for us for this time. (OK, we had an idea — as this isn’t the first time He’s pulled us away to rest in the midst of thunderclaps.) When I told my friend Trina about our last little adventure before we embark on a whole new realm of adventures with the girls, she said “Oh! You’re going on a Babymoon!” Never heard the term before, but I like it.

Seems we weren’t the only ones with this idea. The pool and beach were swarming with others who appeared to be salvaging their last few days together before stepping off into the abyss of parenthood. I, thankfully, got to by-pass the uniform that shouted the reason for our trip to those around us – the skirted bathing suit. Little perks to growing our family through adoption

We spent much of the week, in between explorations of sea life with our snorkel gear, taking inventory. Looking back on the past 6 months — well, really seven years (we’re nearing our jubilee anniversary) — and asking God to prepare us for what’s ahead. Not just in parenting, but in Him. We both sense that we’re at a nexus … of sweet, sweet uncertainty that’s serving to pry open our receptivity to His move in our lives. You know, when things are “normal” you tend to just expect normal and not really ask for much more. We’re finding treasure in the seeming darkness of this suspense that is seeping beyond our adoption into other areas of our lives.

Which leads to my update: we’ve gotten news from our agency that’s caused us to wonder if we truly are on the brink of a referral. At the risk of sounding cryptic, I’d just ask that you pray. Today — just this morning — I’ve turned a corner in my prayers. God is leading me to pray directly, in a more focused way, for our girls … that He would lead us to them. Would you join us in asking that He leads the wonderful staff of Carolina Hope through the maze of communicating with those in a developing country who, in more ways than one, speak a language other than ours? Would you pray for our little ones — that He would bring them home?

One thing I am certain of–especially after a week of reflection (under the beautiful Caribbean sun )– the ups and downs along this route have only served as my laboratory for prayer. He is fortifying my approach. In teaching me how to commune with Him no matter what curve ball comes our way, He is building, deep within me, a stance of waiting.

Hopeful waiting–filled with anticipation of what’s to come, and a drive to pray into what He’s doing in the meantime.

Could it be that this is all for more than just our adoption?

Carolina Hope

The orphan crisis in Ethiopia rages on … I just can’t post my next request without first asking you to pray. Would you ask God to give you His heart for orphans and His prayers for these little ones half way around the world who are struggling to survive?

God has given me a growing heart for prayer related to a crisis that years ago I really didn’t spend more than a minute here or there thinking about. It’s invigorating to open your heart and ask God to fill it for the things He cares about. It’s scary, too, cause you never quite know what might come out. I’m not talking about forcing thoughts out of our mouths that are phrased like prayers or creating profound soliloquies to recite to God. (Trust me, I’ve had my share of that and it gets boring real fast.) Instead, it’s an invitation. The Spirit of God waits on our invitation in order to move through our hearts and minds and, as He does so,  He fills us with prayers that are almost visceral and thoughts that are so other, so His.

Now that I’ve asked you to pray I’ll switch gears (sort of) please consider this request from Carolina Hope, our adoption agency:

Ethiopia Fundraiser Dear Family and Friends, We are in the process of raising money to build an orphanage after one burned to the ground, and we are also trying to find sponsors for over eighty children in another orphanage. If you would like to help please visit one of the links below. You can donate directly through our First Giving websites, safely and securely: This link is to help build an orphanage: Ethiopia Orphanage or This link is to sponsor or support our Ethiopian orphans: Ethiopian Orphans http://www.firstgiving.com/carolinahope-ethiopiaorphans

The Ultrasound

I suppose this is the closest equivalent in the adoption world to what we’re waiting on now — our referral. I realize those of you not entrenched in this as we are may not be as familiar with many of the terms we throw around. Here’s a quick tutorial on where we are in the process:

Our paperwork is now on its final leg of a rigorous obstacle course. The last step is a hand-off from our agency to their parent agency and then on to Ethiopia. Somewhere in there, we get our referral!

re·fer·ral - noun - the thing every adoptive parent dreams about; pictures, medical reports, and names of their soon-to-be-child(ren)

To put it bluntly it’s sort of like sorority rush … or medical residency matching in the way that it works. We’ve given them our requests (two sibling girls, under the age of 3 — but we might be willing to flex on age) and our parent/umbrella agency matches those against children they have in one of their several orphanages.

This means that in about 2-3 weeks we will receive a glorious message in our inbox with the details on who we’ve been selected to parent. We’ll be given 10 days to have medical reports/pictures reviewed by a specialist and pray like crazy — before we accept our referral. Although I can’t imagine we’ll take the entirety of those 10 days to decide (and we’re not sure we’ll solicit the help of a specialist), I’ve heard many stories of referrals that require a lot of prayer and discernment.

Although it’s been a long nine months waiting, literally, to hear there’s actually a “heartbeat”, we are preparing like the elephant who endures a much longer gestational period.

A friend recently asked, “will you be keeping your referral a secret — just for the two of you to cherish?”

My response: “Heck no! We’ll be shouting from the rooftops once we’ve accepted our referral!” The only recent downside is that Ethiopian regulations require that we’re not to post or share over email, other than to immediate family, pictures of our soon-to-be chillins. Until our case is sent to court in Ethiopia and they are officially ours, we’ll just have to be really descriptive in this blog so you can envision our little princesses …

We’re Getting Closer…

Nate here. We got this email today, and thought you folks would enjoy the update (well, WE did!).

Dear Ethiopia Families,

I know it has been slow going with the dossiers. I have good news. Susan has informed me that we have received all the individual forms (including notarized I-171Hs and Power of Attorneys) for our first 4 families back from their respective Secretaries of State. The next step is that we have attached a notarized letter to each bundle which must then go to the SC Secretary of State. They will all 4 go out today and we will most likely receive them back within a couple of days. Therefore, they should all go out at the end of this week to the US State Department.

The final step after that is to send them to the Ethiopia Embassy. We can’t be sure how long the US State Department or the Embassy will take, but most likely we will have them back within a couple of weeks. They will then go to West Sands for referrals. I spoke with Kent at West Sands yesterday. I explained that we would have 4 families ready very soon. He said he is excited and will be sending us referrals as soon as possible. I’ll let you know more as soon as I can.

Well, maybe that was more information than you want or understand, so here’s the gist: we’ll get pictures, names, possibly videos and other info about our daughters within the month. That’s “the referral”, and it’s a big deal in the adoption world.

As you can imagine, we’re, uh, looking forward to it.

Sacrifice of Joy

As I’ve said in earlier posts, struggling with infertility is a bit like grieving the loss of a loved one. There are times where the pain is intense and others where it’s just a part of the backdrop of my life.

Lately — this past week in particular — the pain has been thick. Although we’ve done the math to see it’s more than likely that we won’t have the girls until October or November, there is growing political and economic uncertainty in Ethiopia (worse than before) that is bleeding over into our minds and the time between now and the fall seems like eons. We’re watching friends grow their families and wondering at times if God has exiled us to growing a vegetable garden, instead :).

In the meantime, this blog has been a cathartic exercise of working out what I believe God is working in me. And just this week the latest tool He’s given me to walk through this is true gratitude — it’s hard not to write about what even just a few days with this new instrument has done in my heart.

I was challenged by a friend a few weeks ago to keep searching out the beauty coming out from the ashes of my pain over our delays. I’ve seen it in broad strokes but “camping out” there in the day-to-day is a different story.

But the hardest time for me to do this is in the morning. It seems that 7 hours of unbridled thoughts, fears, and anxieties tend to rear their ugly head the moment I hear that dreadful alarm. I’ve gotten used to waking up heavy and staring at the day ahead through the lens of what I lack.

Advice is great — we all love to give it — but there are those certain, supernatural junctures, where the word from a friend or even stranger coincides with God’s in-working in you and it sticks. This was one of those for me.

Psalm 27:6 says:

And now my head shall be lifted up above my enemies all around me; Therefore I will offer sacrifices of joy in His tabernacle; I will sing, yes, I will sing praises to the LORD.

Choosing joy is a sacrifice. To choose to praise God when everything in me points to those things I’ve deemed enemies (enemies of my circumstances, enemies of my plan, enemies of my peace) means letting go of my own sense of justice and trusting Another’s grid for my life. But I’m selfish. I want things “my way” and in my timing. And I fail so often at keeping my mouth shut when either of those is hindered. I guess I’m good lab rat in that way …

So, my little experiment with gratitude has proven fruitful. Just like any other “sacrifice” God calls us to, what’s on the other side is better. After just a few days of choosing joy, choosing praise — ultimately choosing Him, I am OVERWHELMED. God is so good to me. At one point last fall someone prayed over us that this would be the best year yet of our lives. I can say with full honesty it is.

Now, don’t get me wrong — this is not Pollyanna-esque thinking. I’m not manufacturing thankfulness for the ants in my kitchen. I’m just a surveyor taking a look at a plot of land that’s overgrown with brush and needs some leveling, but … if I let my eyes move beyond those things … I find sweet wild flowers springing up from underneath that brush and –there!–a stream, if given the right attention, that would be great for fishing. (And the eyes to see those things came, first, from God.)

These beautiful little girls from Ethiopia (that will be soon disrupting my schedule, my sleep, my plan and my efficiency ) would not even be on our radar if it weren’t for the thing I moan to God about the most.

So today I thank God for this:

… my growing heart for Ethiopia and God-inspired prayers for that nation.

… my marriage that’s stronger than it’s ever been, as me and my best friend have maneuvered more than we would have chosen for ourselves this year. Together.

… the extra months and years of preparation for parenting that, in hindsight, we desperately needed.

… TIME — the carved out space in my life to sit before God and meditate on His beauty.

… and I can’t forget the lettuce springing up out of my little urban garden. (Probably the biggest miracle out of all of this — I actually grew a plant Maybe now I’ll graduate on to children!)

Ummm … what are we doing?

(I think I’ve now used this title 3 times for different posts. A theme is emerging …)

We had dinner Saturday night with a family that is pretty close to the picture of what I’d love our family to look like one day. The kids are fun and smart but–most importantly–they are pursuing God. The parents give off an air of being laid back, yet the product in their children shows a clear measure of intentionality on their part.

So as we drove home, thinking about our soon-to-be litter, that all-too-familiar thought crept back into my brain. What the heck are we doing? I mean, I can barely keep my house plants alive and definitely left my garage door open for two weeks while we went to Ohio for Christmas — basically inviting intruders in — yet I have thoughts of raising up a little flock of God-pursuers. Not to mention that these children are going to have their own host of issues, in addition to the fact that they’re being raised by US with OUR issues (which aren’t insignificant, believe me ).

I then talked to a friend today who’s considering a domestic referral while wrestling with the family’s medical history, which has some serious blemishes. And It reminded me that we have no idea what we’re getting ourselves into.

I love the referral pictures and adoption videos. Less blogable but more real are the day-in-day-out struggles with a child who’s been neglected, the manifestations of the family or circumstances that got them there, and the deep physical and mental pain that’s resulted.

Today I read the following in a book I’m loving these days by a guy named Bob Sorge. He was a musician/worship leader by trade who had his vocal chords damaged in surgery and now can only speak for one hour a day — hence, he’s written a lot of books. He said, quoting an anonymous source:

Someone once said, ‘Prayer demands a relationship in which you allow someone other than yourself to enter into the very center of your being, to see there what you would rather leave in darkness, and to touch there what you would rather leave untouched.’

Jesus is so safe.

I was reminded that, as of late, I’m getting the best preparation I could ask for in parenting: I’m getting to know Jesus. It’s messy, believe me. And–just as I suspect parenting will be–the road map is a lot more clear in retrospect. But even in the slightest movements of my heart towards Him, I’m finding Him faithful to deal with my mess. He’s gentle and inviting.

So, what will I do when my daughter spreads poo on the wall for of fear of her surroundings? Or I find a stash of month-old carrots in her drawer because hoarding (in her eyes) is survival?

I pray. I let Him in to the deep insecurity which I’m convinced every parent — adoptive or not — faces. I mean, who are we to be entrusted with these little lives? And then I wait on His response (while cleaning up poo and hunting down the mice we’ve now invited into our home by this little hoarding episode).

The divine undoing of self. At times I think it’s happened already for me … then I wake up to the reality that I ‘aint seen nothin’ yet. I think God’s enlisted these girls to help.

Surrender

Life’s “bitter-to-sweet” circumstances over the past years have caused a shift in my thinking. My list of expectations for life and goals for my future is slowly … diminishing. This is not for lack of dreaming and hoping — instead it’s because I’m coming to find that this list isn’t mine to compose.

(As I type, it’s as if I’m window shopping, cautiously peering on the other side of the glass, not quite sure if I want to go in and try on these thoughts and have them be mine.)

My words “I want to surrender all to you, God” are tested almost daily when I find myself clinging to patterns of thinking and means of self-justification that have been stuck within me since who-knows-when. I mean, its nice to say “God, I will give ALL to you” but He’s not one to let these words fall to the ground without slowly but surely taking us to the brink of the very “cliff” we fear falling from most. He then asks us, ever-so-gently, if we really mean it.

This is surrender, I think. Being willing to engage in this process with God. Even if I turn back a thousand little times from it (which, believe me, I do)…God sees the one time I said “yes”. And He loves it. In His grace, He loves my one “yes”. And when I get even just the slightest taste of the life that comes from that one “yes”… well, it’s just that much easier to say yes the next time. In a way it’s addicting.

His plans slowly become my plans. His way begins to be illuminated — as if I’m staring at two paths and I can’t help but be drawn to the one that’s His. And the crazy thing is that I want it. Duty fades. Desire begins to take root. And this is as an invitation for Him further into the minutiae of my life, making His way into even the small movements of my mind and heart.

He wants it all. Not just the big “should I move?”, “is this job for me?”, “do I marry him?” decisions. He wants His way into the minors, ultimately, because that’s where the real foundation of our lives is built. Its hard not to seek God when you’re faced with something you seemingly can’t come up with on your own… but what about when it’s something about which you “know” the answer? What about when it’s a path you’ve always taken?

Although I take stabs, daily, at who I think I am and make regular efforts to fufill the role I think I’m meant to fulfill on this earth, there’s always a lingering sense of emptiness. (Yes, even when those things are good things and that role is a meaningful role.) My very best guess at who I really am and my purpose falls short of His purpose. In those rare moments when He pulls back the curtain and lets me catch a glimpse of how He sees my life unfolding, its undeniably better.

Sure, there’s a cost to getting there. But the moments of connection with HIS wavelength are well-beyond-worth the “bags” I’ve had to drop along the way of my pursuit.

Ever since Nate and I started praying the prayer “God, we want more of you” the list of challenging things in our life has only grown. (Granted, I have a low tolerance for pain — so our growing list may still pale in comparison to most ) I’d be lying to say I don’t–at times–grumble to God like “oh, man, isn’t this enough already?” But again and again I’m surprised by how any sense of loss is overshadowed by the reward of Him. So much so that the prayer that keeps popping up as Nate and I pray is “remove anything else that stands in the way of You.”

It’s what got us here on this path of adoption — derailed from our plans for our family. Not insignificant is the reality that this will forever change family dynamics and relationships with any biological children we have, likely put strains on our marriage, impact our long hours alone in prayer and studying scripture that we so love, disrupt our plans for moving to Kansas City when we’d hoped, and alter any sense of “financial security” (whatever that is) we may have had.

But He promised His path for us was one of life. I’m convinced it’s best. And any so-called “sacrifice” in this seems to be fading in my rear view mirror as I look to what’s ahead.

You see, there’s a crisis in Ethiopia right now that’s catching the attention of international media. The drought has caused forced power outages and is leading to a famine — one that–if not addressed in the next 30 days–could take the lives of upwards of 120,000 children. I can’t even put those words down in front of me without crying. God’s heart inside of me is breaking for the depravity that so many call their everyday life. My prayers are focused on the orphans.

He’s letting me know His heart. He’s sharing with me His burdens.

And I’ll confess something: this heart-stance never would have happened without some degree of personal loss. Sure, there are probably others who can get to that place of openness to God without pain and struggle. Just not this stubborn little mule (me). I needed Someone or something to usher me there. So, then, I wonder — in light of the glory of God pouring into my heart and home these days– could it be that our “sacrifice” in this adoption and in other arenas isn’t really all that much of a sacrifice compared to what is gained?

It makes me want to lay down more. Give up more. Surrender more. I guess I’m selfish that way. I want all I can possibly have of this God.

The new phrase bouncing around in our conversations lately has been “we’re goin’ for broke” (in reference to many things). I guess now that it’s in writing its real.

A Time For Everything

My freshman year of high school (prepare yourself) I kept a list of what I wore everyday to ensure I didn’t wear the same outfit twice in one month. Fortunately that petered after about a year, (yes, I did this for an entire year) however, the same propulsion to keep order in my life is still there. Some days Nate marvels at how organized our home is … others he wonders why I’ve put a label on the shelf where he, just the day before, kept his coffee that now says “condiments” forcing him to think in systems even in the wee hours of the morning.

One year, I created a grocery database for Nate (since he did all the grocery shopping) that I was certain would shave off at least 20-30 minutes around the grocery hour each week. I had ingredients for about 60 of our most often used recipes entered in so that, each week, I could select which meals I planned to make and it would pull all the ingredients necessary into one spreadsheet. The kicker: the ingredients on the spreadsheet were sorted by what isle you could find them on in the grocery store! Pretty cool … or so I thought. Just after I created the database, Kroger re-organized their store and I could never quite recover.

Most all of my friends laugh “with” me at how much my life is going to change in just a few months.

Well, after an extended sabbatical from adoption planning, I’m shaking the dust off my electronic adoption file and firing up excel. The best part — I’ve met my match.

Kerry, another Carolina Hope adoptive mom (who I’m hoping will be picking up her child at the same time as we go to get ours) has her ducks in a row. This girl is good. She sent me several lists she created in preparation for their referral that made my palms sweat. I think I even caught a glimpse of a bullet point referring to the master “List of Lists.” Oh, my. Kerry is starting point on the varsity team and I’m hoping to glean a little organizational help from her as one who’s slow to get off the bench.

God has provided in my sluggishness! It’s every organizer’s dream to have someone else create a system that they can just modify and put to work!

So, I started my spreadsheet. It’s long. And I don’t yet have a master “List of Lists.” There’s a lot to do to get ready for these girls, especially for one who’s been spending most of her days not exercising that prepare-for-a-life-changing-event muscle.

I guess this is really happening?!

Orphans

I can’t shake this growing ache in my heart for them–not just “mine”, but all of them. It’s like a heartbeat that just keeps getting louder. Any of you who know me can attest to the fact that this is God. There’s no conjuring going on here.

Tonight a friend shared this story about his friend Roger:

Roger was in Mozambique, Africa doing an internship on a missions base there. One night he was praying a prayer that’s all-too-familiar to me these days: God, I want to see a clear picture of your face.

No sooner had he prayed this did he feel a tug on the corner of his shirt. He looked down only to see one of the many orphans, who’d finagled her way into his tent, eyes craving attention.

God in a child’s frame.

I think a piece of my ever-growing prayer for more of God in my life is on its way, coming in a slightly different form than I anticipated.

Then the King will say to those on His right hand, ‘Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.’

“Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You? Or when did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’

Matthew 25:34-40

Our New Favorite Adoption Video

We only do this occasionally…well, if by occasionally you mean weekly, but we again struck gold with our latest video find. Enjoy!

A Father’s Look

This morning Nate said to me, “I think when we get our girls I’m just going to spend a lot of time staring at them …” Now, being one who has a chronic staring problem, I know he’s not referring to the can’t-quite-figure-out-who-those-people-are-so-look-at-them-until-you-learn-more stare. It’s the daddy gaze he’s talking about.

You know it. It’s the look that when you catch someone else doing it you quickly glance away feeling like you’ve entered into some sort of private moment. For those of you moms and dads out there, you know the tug in your heart towards this little thing who somehow came from you and from whom, when you’re not pulling your hair out because they drive you crazy, you can’t quite take your eyes.

Nate said this not too long after I came in from my Saturday morning run. His comment came as if he’d been hanging out in my head for the last 40 minutes.

My Saturday morning runs are holy to me. Most other days, by the time my feet hit the pavement, lights are on in the surrounding houses in our neighborhood, people are walking out to get the paper with their morning coffee in hand and cars are speeding off to work. I’ve got to turn my ipod up pretty loud for me to drown out the life around me and get in my zone. Saturday mornings are different. There’s an extra drive in me to lace up my shoes before the morning is broken. It’s a lot easier to have the space to talk and listen to God when all the extra chaos of the day is quiet.

This morning’s ruminations were a carry over from what I’ve been a little bit lost in this week. There’s a truth that’s been searing my heart. See, it’s been 15 years now that I’ve been actively pursuing a relationship with God. Countless hours spent reading scripture,books, commentaries, praying, listening to sermons, going to conferences, spending time with people who do and don’t know God talking about Him … yet this thought dropped into my brain just a few days ago and I can’t get it to go away. Because it’s true. I barely know Him.

The answer for me isn’t to do more, learn more, study more, listen to others talk about Him more. For me, for right now it’s … receive. Lately its been easier for me to skip over the portions of the bible that talk about the personality of God — the emotions of God — the heart of God and move quickly to the hand of God, the power of God, the move of God.

And this week He’s saying I want you to know my love for you. Listen. Wait. Open your eyes. Look. Watch. Expect. . . and receive.

So I come in from my run feeling like all I want to do is just sit, absorb the scripture being sung across the air waves from the International House of Prayer and ask Him to take a heart that can so easily do…prove…justify… seek to validate… and turn it into one that can receive.

Then Nate said the words that I actually think are God’s words for me this morning. The growing heart we have for our girls came, first, from our Maker. The mom you catch at the playground who’s stopped to rest her head in her hand and look at her daughter with eyes full of joy and love didn’t manufacture that. She got it from Him … ’cause this is what He does with us.

He looks at us. He gazes upon His creation. Scripture actually says He is ravished with us.

Oh, I barely know this God.

Blast From The Past

One thing Sara and I are trying to avoid with this thing is to get all “bloggy”. By that, I mean that, frankly, you’re not that interested in what we ate for breakfast (well MOST of you, at least)!

But I can’t resist sharing my recent Facebook “brush with the past”: An old friend from college re-connected with us there (I’m seriously committed to minimizing my Facebook time–it’s a royal time-suck!), but it turns out that she is a reporter for the Raleigh News & Observer now AND that she “happened” to write a couple articles about a family down there that adopted from Ethiopia.

So, Leah–great to hear from you again, and for everybody else, some very well done stories.

“A First Christmas For Natnael”

“A Home For Natnael”

Enjoy!

My Water Broke!

We’re officially in “labor”!

Although I, sadly, have no pictures to show for the day’s festivities, our approval did arrive in the mail and we quickly had it notarized and sent off to Carolina Hope. Thanks to Fed Ex they should be moving our “bundle” of paperwork tomorrow to the next phase, the US State Department for authentication.

In short, I guesstimate we’ll be getting our referral in 4-8 weeks. There’s quite a few stops along the way that I’m still not entirely sure I understand. This from our coordinator at Carolina Hope may shed some light:

Once the US State Department authenticates the bundle, they send it back to us and we send it to the Ethiopian embassy. When we get it back from the embassy, we send it to West Sands [their parent agency]. They will look at the information and then send it on to be translated in Ethiopia. In the meantime, they will begin matching families and sending us referrals. They will not wait for the dossier to be translated before they send us referrals.

My labor may, when all is said and done, last 6 months — but I am certain it will be worth it. (We are, after all, having two.)

Will God Heal Me?

Quick update: No paperwork yet. After a few phone calls to our growing constituency of adoption advocates, I discovered that having been approved by USCIS doesn’t exactly put us over the hump yet. The key is getting that precious piece of paperwork from “Sally government employee”’s outbox into the mail. There is no telling how long this would take, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to send along some helpful suggestions to USCIS about how to speed this process along. My “helpfulness” can sometimes backfire (ask Nate). Let’s hope I didn’t dig myself into a hole .

The real reason for this post is that I want to process a stream of thinking that’s been percolating in my brain for quite some time now. Just last night, Nate and I watched a sweet little thing, Kelsey Hayes — who I think is about 14 — share her story on international web tv about how God miraculously healed her. I knew her name well, as we are regularly tuning into the web feed from The International House of Prayer and they pray for her often. She suffered from hepatitis C (contracted while her parents were doing missions work in Mexico, they think), and an additional, even-more-deadly auto immune disorder which was baffling physicians. She was in chronic pain, spending a signficant amount of time in and out of hospitals.

Well, last week God healed her.

The past month has brought outbreaks across the country of stories just like Kelsey’s — people being miraculously healed by God. Sure, I struggle with doubt as much as the next person. Did they make it up? Were they really healed or are they just imagining the pain is gone? The point of this post isn’t to propose a theological argument for God’s power to heal — it’s in the bible, I can’t really argue it — the reason I’m writing is that my heart was moved just watching this little girl tell a story, unprompted by her parents, of how God came to her and healed her from miserable, heart-wrenching pain. She wasn’t making it up. Her account was anything but sensational from a delivery perspective. It’s been now confirmed by blood tests. In a very matter-of-fact way, she expressed that day after day she asked God “how long…” as she prayed in belief from her hospital room that He would heal her.

Then, one day He did.

I hear things like this (this isn’t a first) and it releases a floodwater of questions into my mind. I think I overcame the first hurdle of “Can God heal like He did in the Bible?” a few years ago as I began to open my eyes more to the reality of God’s power moving in and around us everyday. If you look for it, you’ll find it. The next one is more difficult for me.

You see, the list of all the beautiful things that God has done through my struggles with infertility is growing everyday, not the least of which being that we will be welcoming 2 little Ethiopian kiddies into our family . . . forever. I’m sold on the notion that God can use pain and infirmity to change, mold, transform. Nate and I are different people than we were 4 years ago because of the closed doors in our life. The most prominent difference being our ever-growing hunger to know God more (’cause we’ve been a little disillusioned by the notion that our 70 years on this earth are our prime years.)

Even so, I can say with confidence that I don’t believe God creates infirmity. My body is living, breathing evidence of something off–away from its original design. I’m broken. What was intended by God and made by God to produce life has — for a time — been stunted.

I’m not alone, as I know countless people facing this same question from different angles. So, how do I approach God who I know has the power to heal but for some reason has not yet done so?

In Kelsey’s words, I pray: “how long …?”

It’s boldly vulnerable. The frailty displayed in her body appeared to fuel a sense of entitlement–as a daughter of God–to the riches of His hand. Her prayer seemingly errupted from a place of surety before God. She was reaching for her inheritance. And I’m convinced this pleased God.

Granted, these words don’t address the complexity of this issue (which, really, I’ll plead with those of you who — like me –have a tendency to want to boil things down and make it simple, to not miss the complexity of God in the delay that can happen in healing). They do, though, address the complexity of God. We pray simple prayers and He unveils more of Himself. When my pain makes it too difficult for me to come to God with my usual soliloquized analysis of the situation, my simple prayers can stir His heart.

Again, I’m reminded of eternal truths. (It’s as if writing these out reminds my wandering soul of what is really deeply true).

Yes, we can touch the heart of God. And, for me, when that happens I am changed.

So … for now, that’s my goal. I want to stir the heart of God with my prayers.

Not, can you?

Nor, will you?

But an expectant, how long?

And should He choose to not respond in my physical healing, I — like many others, throughout scripture and otherwise, who were left waiting — will still be forever changed.

We’ve Been APPROVED!

I just received a phone call from Senator John Warner’s office, as we had solicited their help in pushing our paperwork through. The sweet messenger on the other end told me that YES, in fact, we had been approved by USCIS on May 8th and that our approval notice was en route.

Thank you, Jesus.

Oh my gosh, this is really happening.

I’m bringing my camera out to pick up the mail today. Ted, our own personal stork — or angel I should say — disguised as a mail carrier, is about to make the baby book. (Precious guy said he, too, has been praying for our adoption.)

Did I Just Do That?

I’ve become that girl. Back in the fall as I was reading Ethiopian adoption blogs I came across this strange phenomenon where adoptive parents were obsessively tracking their immigration paperwork. I laughed, thinking, oh those poor people. Clearly they have issues with control — or something of the sort — that are forcing them to hone in on this one minute aspect of their adoption. It’s not like the timing is really within their control anyways.

These thoughts — let’s be straight, judgments — haunted me on Friday night as I recounted the day’s events.

Here’s the run down: I walked outside around 1pm to find that the postal service had left us a “Sorry we missed you ..” slip of paper indicating that they had a piece of mail for us that required a signature.

YES! This was IT! FINALLY … (As you may know, we’re waiting for our pre-immigration approval from the United States Child Immigration Services (USCIS)).

I quickly scarfed down lunch and bolted off to the post office to plead on behalf of this piece of gold, which ,as stated on the slip, would be unavailable to us until Monday. On the way I called Nate and he assured me, “No, Sara, I haven’t ordered anything. I’m certain its the immigration approval.”

My heart was racing.

I cut off an older lady in the parking lot and quickly dodged in front of someone who looked like they’d be slow should they end up in front of me in line on my way in to the post office. I’m not kidding when I say I ran inside.

We had prayed along the way, Nate and I, that I’d get a friendly face who’d be willing to help. The first woman I saw couldn’t quite hide her alarm at my approach into the office. (I think she thought I was going to hold up the joint). I waved my paper at her and with the least amount of words asked if she could track down the letter. After reviewing the form she said, no, this wouldn’t be available until Monday.

I’d rehearsed my response on the way as if I was preparing for a proposal: You don’t understand. I’m adopting TWO ORPHANS from ETHIOPIA and this is the key piece of paperwork that will get them home.

I’ll cut to the summary: she had just had two orphans from Ethiopia at her home that weekend (THANK YOU, GOD) and was more than willing to help me with my own. She took my phone number, after convincing me that I couldn’t chase down the carrier that had my letter because it was a federal offense or something, and assured me she’d call when it arrived.

The 3 hours that followed were bliss. We lined up a notary, mentally prepared our route from the notary to the latest Fed Ex pick-up location, and called friends as if my water had just broke.

I have to admit, in retrospect, I was a bit overconfident. When I got the call to go back to the post office and sign for my letter I had re-gained a bit of composure but still paraded in as if I was some sort of celebrity going for a book signing. The postal worker smiled sheepishly as she said “that sure is a lumpy letter.”

I stared down at what looked like anything but a formal document from the U.S. government. I tore it open, still with hopes that maybe they’d disguised it for fear that terrorists might try and thwart our adoption.

Reality sunk in as I stared at Nate’s replacement IPOD.

I mumbled something like “oh, they must be sending us an ipod cause they feel so bad that we’ve had to wait this long” as I walked out of the office, tail between my legs.

“I didn’t think it would come that soon,” Nate said when I gently (ummm…yeah) asked him how he could let me get my hopes up like this?

He actually has a lot better perspective on the whole thing and just assured me that our adoption does not lie in the hands of the government, nor is our fate reliant upon this piece of paperwork. (I think he also had a vested interest in keeping me from throwing his ipod out the window.)

He’s right.

I had forgotten… for more than a moment.

I Think This Qualifies As An Update

After contacting everyone shy of Condi Rice to help us move our immigration paperwork through the pipeline, we have finally heard word back from the USCIS office. A brief, some-might-call terse email from our contact there stated: “Your application is under review tomorrow and you will hear from us within the week.”

I’m not going to even ask where it’s been the past eleven weeks.

YES! There will be a culmination to at least this act in the drama. Only one more week of trips to the mailbox where I do the walk that looks much like a child who’s just been told not to run around the pool area but can’t quite contain their energy. (I’ve been exercising the mother’s honing device by listening for the subtle but not absent sound of the mail truck as it comes down my street. Today I heard it all the way from our kitchen table. Tomorrow I’m going to see if my ears can catch it from the back porch.)

In addition to this email we received a very detailed list of responses to questions we’ve had about this new arrangement between our agency and their partner agency. We’re relieved to find out that yes, in fact, there are siblings at the orphanage that our partner agency runs who are waiting to be adopted. As far as timing, we still have a lot of questions … they did estimate that our travel dates would be
six months from the time we get our referral. If you do the math, this is late 2008.

You may be wondering if we just grossly underestimated the timing of this whole thing because it appears as if we’ll be adopting 6-10 months later than we originally anticipated. There are a few reasons for this. One being that since we started the process in October there has been a massive influx of families wanting to adopt from Ethiopia. (They heard about us.) Yet, there are still only about 4 in-country government employees managing adoption. A year ago families would get their referral and then travel 6-8 weeks later, whereas now that time has grown to 4-6 months. The courts are really backed up. For us, our referral-to-travel time will also likely be impacted by the 4-6 weeks in August and September (the rainy season) when the courts shut down.

My proclivity towards grumpiness about how this influx is impacting our time-line is quickly dismissed as I think of God’s heart being stirred through this stampede of adoptive parents. He’s finding homes for His orphans.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. …

The other reason for this delay almost goes without saying. We’re in the hands of a sovereign God who knows much better about these things than we do. I’ll be honest, it’s easier to type this after some positive reinforcement from immigration that we’re in queue for a response, but its true regardless of whether things are looking up, or down …or all around.

It’s been a long day for this chick. I think those run-but-try-to-look-like-you’re-walking stints to the mailbox are wearing me out. Goodnight.

A Non-Update Update

Hey folks–Nate here. My approach to writing on this blog has quickly developed into “Get out of the way, and let my wife drop beauty all over the place”, but I thought I would risk the comparison and chime in here.

We’re still waiting on the I-171H approval from the USCIS. For those that are not themselves wading through this minutiae, essentially, we’re waiting for the Department of Homeland Security–Immigration Division to “pre-approve” us for international adoption. We had our appointment at their offices on February 21, and they say it takes 9 weeks at the maximum to approve…so we’re officially “overdue”.

Here’s why this is sticky: our agency is having to “bundle” together adoptive parents into groups of 4 to send their complete info to Ethiopia (long story as to why they have to do this), and they’ve already got 3 families ready. We would be the 4th…IF this thing gets approved soon. If not, well, the next few families are much earlier in the process and it means additional delays to those we’ve already anticipated.

So, it’s just more waiting for us, and this a bit more challenging as we’re watching the blind, faceless bureaucracy of the Federal Government place families ahead of us, who started after us. The sting was evident last night, as we talked about things, because we’re back to the question: Will this ever actually happen?

I’m pretty sure this question is what prompts so many adoptive parents to write about their process on blogs. I mean, you don’t see a lot of “pregnancy blogs”, right? (Though, I wasn’t aware of the “adoption blog” phenomenon before this experience, so I may just be ignorant!)

No, part of what makes this journey so heart-wrenching is that you’re constantly wrestling with the uncertainty of it all…and you’ve got very little to show for your progress. No growing belly (well, I mean, the wife’s belly. From pregnancy. Mine grows in, ah, other ways), no questions from strangers, no doctor’s appointments together–in short, very few of the markers for this process at all.

So, we yearn and wait. But, as they say, the bitter DOES become sweet.

We know that the roller coaster we’re on (including the waiting on biological children too) only serves to heighten our parental expectations. Our little girls, well, let’s just say they’re gonna be pretty well loved.

Thanks for walking with us in this journey, friends. Though many of you we’ve never met…you’ve lifted our hearts and pointed us to God. Would you keep praying?! We’re bracing for delays–but hoping for speed!

Orchids

We visited one of my oldest and dearest friends last week and her family, on our way back across country. Her son, Tyler, at 5 is smarter than I am and has a limitless memory bank. When he was two-ish he gave Nate and me a lesson on John Deere trackers — wheel types, frames, engines and all. I’ve added him as a back-up resource (next to Nate, of course) to help me filter which options I should say “yes” to when I get my oil changed. The child is brilliant.

Parents of children who aren’t yet demonstrating this brilliance, don’t fear. He did reveal a slight misfiring of pistons when he asked his mom the day after we left: “Oh, they’re adopting orchids, right?”

Interesting concept. I imagine there are orchid rescue missions that do in fact put their newly salvaged beauties up for adoption, but I’m not sure that we’re ready to take on the responsibility of fostering them. Instead we’ll stick with children.

Just before I got the email from Nic telling me about this exchange, I noticed that an orchid that was given to us when we moved into our house (3 1/2 years ago) was just about to bloom. What?! It hadn’t bloomed since the day it was given to us. It seems that a few weeks of house guests–who likely tended to it better than its owners did, and maybe the sweet hand of God–was bringing this plant into a new season of growth.

Maybe it’s prophetic.

Bring on the orchids …

LIFE in the waiting

No real updates. We haven’t yet gotten our immigration approval. I’m slightly concerned, as our social worker told us that the envelope has been mistaken by others for junk mail. I’m picturing a large envelope with a headline that reads: YOU, resident of 5555 Pine Oak Drive, might just be in for the RIDE OF YOUR LIFE … open for details on your adoption!! You better believe I’ve had a fine eye for mail that never made it past the trash can in the garage before this month.

So … I pontificate (side note: a word like this typically reveals that the little woman behind the curtain is using her thesaurus to blog, but I promise it just came to me):

I got an email from a friend just yesterday that said something to the effect of “don’t forget to live while you’re waiting.” Now I know this sounds like a chorus to a country song or something you might hear sung at an eighth grade graduation, but this thought was the tip of what sent me on a trail of thinking and praying (cause I have time to do that these days).

Because the waters run deep with her–and she’s not a person to use words lightly — I knew there was something in this for me from God. She was actually referring to the other big “wait” in our lives, which has been our move to Kansas City (still on hold) but I think I can draw a big, grand application:

He’s in my moment right now. Life today and what He has put before me at this juncture has the potential to be just as significant to Him as when we have our rooms filled with giggling girls and our trash overflowing with diapers. I can tend towards being such a driven person that I miss the power in the moment-by-moment glory of God.

Could it be that what God defines as significant may be entirely different than the mile-markers I set up? Scripture says He is ravished with one glance of my eye. So, today I am not changing the world by making my mark in business or ministry, or even in my own home with two little orphans … I’m just taking some time to set my gaze on Him. And I think He likes it. And I am refreshed.

I think I can wait a little longer.

April Showers

I feel like I’m a little bit stuck here, because we’ve invited you all into our “home”—moved from the living room, into the kitchen…and now I’m sort of wishing I could have kept everybody on the porch .

See, I’m tempted to just end this blog, as I’m not quite sure how to filter the depth of my experiences into words that are read by many that don’t even know me. It feels a little like the “fat guy in a little coat”, this blog.

I usually like to wait until I have some grand epiphany before I write a post, seeing myself a little like a trumpeter for hope in the times of despair, for beauty when all appears to be ashes.

[By the way, no big new updates on our adoption paperwork--fingerprints are still awaiting authorization. We're hoping to arrive home to something in our mailbox. It's all out of our hands anyway.]

But today, as we’re driving across the country to our home in Virginia, as the sky is monotonously gray, the windshield is spotted with droplets of rain…it feels eerily reflective of my heart.

This blog is about our adoption, so it doesn’t feel appropriate to share all the other outside variables which make the lows feel as low as they have, and the highs feel so high too. But, to give you a picture – our struggles with infertility, adoption delays, etc. are just a piece of the pie of our life and emotional experience recently. You can probably tell that from just reading this, or maybe you’ve just chalked things up to me being overly-dramatic.

So today is one of those days where you go from praying, “God, get me through this next month” to “God, can you get me through even this moment?”, without a whole lot of understanding as to why it seems that hardship comes in packages—bundled together all at once.

I’m weary from waiting, hoping, dreaming, wishing, and for some reason today it seems even more painful to think that our girls have it a thousand times worse than I do—and probably have no idea right now that their current dismal circumstances will soon be nearing an end.

I wonder if that’s how God sees me.

I read an email yesterday from a friend who had just returned from the Ukraine. As she shared some of her experiences at some of the women’s shelters and orphanages, my stomach, taut (already feeling that stretched, achy, just-like-you-threw-up feeling), just turned—how do they do it? What about those that don’t have the hope that I have? How do they not just shut down? Because I know that I’m at my max (ooh—better be cautious saying that), and I’m submerged in Western comfort. But days like today I know that I have more questions than I have answers.

So I settle into that (figurative) place on the floor, that seems to be getting more dented and worn down by my knees, and I pray, Jesus, I trust you.

Lace Up Your Shoes …

…’cause the finish line maybe, sorta, kinda, if you look real hard … IS IN SIGHT! We got an email from the director of our agency today letting us know that their Ethiopian license is still hanging in suspension with no concrete indication that it will go through, BUT (drum-roll) that they have partnered with another agency that will allow Carolina Hope to officially network with them in their adoptions.

This means (in their words to the adoptive parents chomping at the bit): “as soon as you are paper ready for a referral, we will be able to work through this agency to match you with children and help you bring them home.”

Further translation: we are a few weeks (if that) away from having all of our paperwork complete and being “paper ready.” We are simply waiting on our immigration approval that, at the very latest, should come the last week of April. Once this is completed, we are added to the queue to wait on a referral. In summary, this news means there will not be any extra-ordinary delays for us to get our referral. (See our Frequently Asked Questions post if even this is confusing.)

I’m tempted to guess at the timing and say this could mean a June referral with possibly late August or September travel, but the reality of working with a developing country — no matter what agency is serving as the liaison — is such that we can’t know for sure. Right now we’re hearing reports that the time from referral to travel (picking up the kids) varies from 2 to 6 months.

Hmmm …so basically, we’ve caught the greased pig for a moment. Nonetheless, we will celebrate! Off to the races …

Hope Deferred

No new updates. There are some things percolating that we’ll surely post as soon as we have definitive information.

Nate and I are taking a mini-sabbatical of sorts at The International House of Prayer in Kansas City. This is about the best place on the planet I know of to just let down … rest … process what we spend most of our lives running from and usually only allow to dance on the periphery of our minds. I can honestly say my heart feels healthy, after just even a few days here. There is something cleansing about just sitting with your thoughts before God – all of them. The raw, the imbalanced, the messy and the rare few that are actually pure and untainted by all the junk of the world.

I’ll save a more detailed description of The International House of Prayer for another post – it’s noteworthy for sure. For now, I’ll just tell you about my morning.

I come into the prayer room (picture a conference room, comfy chairs to seat 800 about ¾ of the way full of people from all different walks of life, and live, spontaneous music that sounds like it’s produced—it’s so good). They’ve got a time set aside each week for “pre-natal” prayer. They’re praying for the pregnant ladies and believe me–there’s a lot of them out here. I try to divert my eyes. It has become a knee-jerk reaction for me when I see a pregnant person. It’s almost like what you do when you see a couple fighting or a mom disciplining her child in public. I can’t quite explain why pregnant woman elicit the same response in me. . . maybe it’s for fear of the feelings that can well up in me, but nevertheless…my eyes dart to the ground as I see what seems like a line-up of hundreds of them (read: 10) all dressed in trendy maternity clothes, glowing, other-worldly, and rubbing their bellies. A few of them look barely 20.

The feeling comes rushing back that I so want to push away: envy. Perfect place for me to face it, right? My often-peripheral thought now pervades my thinking because I am sitting here, basically naked before God, and can’t really ignore the green thoughts pouring out of my mind.

And here’s what I hear being sung from up front shortly thereafter (and you wonder if this is coincidence): a wet-behind the ears pianist singing about hope deferred. Out of the mouth of this 20-something comes seasoned insights only a 50 year-old stumbling off the battlefield of life should have. He’s singing about the one true and constant hope, Jesus, when all else is lost …and even when it’s not. I shrink in my chair feeling eerily like this young buck is reading my mail. I’m slightly fearful about what other exposing-of-my-heart lyrics God might put on his lips to sing in front of this group.

After I get over the fact that God actually is not only hearing my thoughts but wanting to speak into my moment, I realize that this envy isn’t about these girls. It’s not even about being pregnant or one day being a mom. Those are side-bars to the real issue at hand:

Am I willing to say everything, God, yes everything I will give to you? It’s one thing to say that about cars, houses, jobs, etc etc …but what about children? They aren’t “bad” in any way. Being a mom is a good thing. I was made for it. God designed it … so why would even this be a lesser hope?

The object of my hope: that’s what this whole thing is about. Am I hoping in the promise of God to make me a mom … or am I just plain-and-simply hoping in Him?

You see, I know it’s God’s desire for us to hope … to dream … to imagine … to explore. He is limitless and He wants His people to be limitless in their dreams, hopes, and desires for life. The point at which this becomes limiting is when the “end” becomes the thing I’m hoping for and not Him. Why? Because it fades. Empty-nesters can tell you that about parenting. Retirees can tell you that about their career. Athletes, even in their prime, can tell you that about their sport.

I know this – yet my default response is to put my hope in something which cannot ultimately support my hope. For right now, it’s being a mom. I look at those plump little things sitting in the back of the prayer room having people pray for them and their little ones in-utero and I think: that’s it. If I can get there I will be happy. And until I get there things won’t be quite right.

And He, ever-so-gently, whispers to me …lift your eyes. Dream bigger. Hope higher.

He doesn’t see me in the way that I (everyday) struggle with seeing myself: one who is missing out. He sees me as one who was created – from the very day I was conceived – to be a lover of Him. And this deferred hope in having babies or adopting children or whatever it may be for me the moment … serves as fuel for this love, believe it or not. And that One, that object of my hope, He doesn’t change. He doesn’t fade. There is no end to Him.

As I read back through this post I’m slightly dissatisfied. I’m finding some of these posts are ending up more like “morning devotionals” you’d read from a “½ Off!” paperback at Sam’s club or in the grocery store aisle. I guess this is just where I find words to be limiting …cause this stuff I’m writing about is so stinkin’ real to me these days and a blog doesn’t do justice to the way my heart is becoming more and more alive as I see even just a few more glimpses of Jesus. It’s like I want to be the town crier for all the people out there whose lives aren’t shaping up the way they’d anticipated and say: even here you can find Him. Press on. I promise there’s life even here. Unfortunately I’m stuck with a fleeting attention span and a less-than-what-I’d-want-it-to-be-vocabulary.

Oh well. Tomorrow I’m going to try adding fresh ginger to my home-made carrot juice. Could make for an interesting post that’s a lot easier to funnel into words on a page than the oozing-bleeding-heart stuff that comes as we’ve waited on more news of our adoption …

Crosswords for Adoptive Moms

I’m convinced the Crossworld Puzzle industry has an untapped market in adoptive moms. We are worse than dogs in heat — looking for any creative outlet we can find to bide time while we wait on our “assignment.” Hence, blogging!

As if that wasn’t enough, there is a not-so-new game of cyber-tag going around that my new Carolina Hope friend, Kerry, was just recently indoctrinated into and has since passed the baton on to me.

I’ve been tagged!

Here are the rules (for the lucky person I tag next):

“You have to tag 5 people [aside: I'm not sure I know of 5 adoptive moms with blogs to tag, therefore my brother, "Bud" as we call him, might need to proxy here] and you can’t tag the person that tagged you. You leave them a comment on their blog letting them know you are tagging them and why [which I think is to list 10 things about yourself that people on your blog don't know]. Also, direct them to your blog for instructions. It is also asked that you notify the tagger when you post your list so that they can enjoy reading the responses.”

Seeing as how this is my diary, it’s probably hard for most of you to think there are actually 10 things about me you don’t know. I’ll give it a shot:

1. I’m not a fan of cats.

2. I love chai tea lattes and am trying to learn to make them myself.

3. Even though I’m becoming a total health-food nut and scaring my husband into believing this is one step away from growing my armpit hair and wearing Birkenstocks, I have a bag of Lindt chocolates (given to me as a gift yesterday) stashed away that I’ve been devouring for the past hour after I told Nate I was going to hide them so “we” wouldn’t be tempted. I’m hoping to finish them before he gets home.
4. My all time favorite book is A Severe Mercy by Sheldon VanAuken.

5. I’d love to learn farming and have a farm one day where we live off our own land.

6. My parents made me go to a week long Organ Camp (no, not a camp for transplant patients — a musical training camp) when I was in elementary school and I’ve never been the same since.

7. I love to run — and am in the process of convincing Nate to train for a 1/2 marathon with me before our lives are swept out from underneath us with these girls.

8. I have a fetish with getting things out of small spaces. (I should’ve been a surgeon. For now, I’ll settle for splinters.)

9. One of my favorite things to do: give gifts. (Well … and i love getting them too!)

10. After 7 years, Nate is finally learning #9 and brought me home a dry-fit shirt yesterday that says “Virginia is for Runners!” Score.

Now, I am going to tag Laura and Tymm, who are very close to picking up their little girl and likely out of the “needing things to do with their pent up energy about adoption” phase. Nonetheless, you guys are tagged!

Bigger and Better

In Young Life we used to organize this scavenger hunt of sorts for high school kids called “Bigger and Better” where we’d give them a penny or paperclip – something small – to start off. Then, in teams, they’d go from house to house and ask if the person at that home had something “bigger and better” than the last item they had. They’d continually exchange what they had for the next greatest thing.

The game would end in a parking lot where each team would be judged by the last item they got. The best kind of bargain shopping, I’d say. Kids would come back with any range of things: pets, computers, cars …you name it (Note: these items were not on loan, they were permanent donations ).

[Last year we were grateful to have a local YL crew come by so we could get rid of that treadmill I picked up on the side of the road one day in hopes that my own little Bob Vila could make it work. Given that I’m prone to imbalance even when running on a normal surface, this treadmill (that had a belt about 2 feet wide) wasn’t exactly Sara-proof, fixed or unfixed.]

So that was “Bigger and Better.”

But isn’t this life? For many, at 18 and going off to college–they could care less if they’d make $20K  when they graduate or $80K. Hiking the Appalachian Trail for 6 months sounds way more appealing than working on Wall Street and taking a job that requires suits everyday and seems like selling out. Then, over time, the lifestyle which early 20-somethings disdain as materialistic slowly becomes the way of life they strive for until all of a sudden they find themselves daydreaming about what it would be like to have a master on the first floor instead of alongside the other bedrooms upstairs.

I know this train of thinking well because I have my own proclivity to want bigger and better. I’m not at a zoo standing outside the fence looking at those people who want those things as if they’ve just been imported from Africa. I know these thoughts intimately as they bounce around in my head wanting me to claim them as my own.

This morning, as I was thinking of our ever-growing wait for children, I had the stinging realization that tends to come back when things get quiet – which is more and more often these days – that I somehow got off the beaten path. The clock is full speed ahead for everyone else around me: careers advancing, churches/ministries growing, dreams/visions for life expanding and families exploding. Hmmm…what happened to me? Pretty much every career path I’ve taken has been brought to a screeching halt at one point or another (usually just at the moment I feel like I’m hitting my groove), my family after 7 years is still just at a whopping 2, and I really don’t have much of a plan or vision for my “ministry”.

So, I wrestle.

You know, its not just fluid for me to be o.k. with this state. I wish it was, but my flesh still seems to crave growth, advancement, achievement (even in “good” things), keeping up with the Joneses, even though I might know somewhere in the recesses of my mind that something bigger – in a difference sort of way —  is going on here.

Therefore, I wrestle.

God, what happened to the little power-house who could get double the work done in half the time? What happened to the drive in me that seemed forever sustainable? Where did those dreams go that I had for ministry … then for my career and business … then for family? So, this is where following You has left me, huh?

I’d be flat-out lying to say that I don’t sit in this stew and gripe to God. The person I am today is so very different – both in life and in thought – than I was even just 5 years ago. At times it seems like the second I started to pray “God I want more of you”, it all started to unravel. I remember praying this very prayer for the first time in 2001 and it wasn’t long after that I felt more flat-on-my-face confused, lost, and alone than I have in my life.

Glowing recommendation for a relationship with God, isn’t it?

Except this … and this is what happens after a few hours of wrestling:

Slowly, as it feels like gallons of water have been seeping out of me as I “give away” (for lack of a better word, ‘cause it wasn’t/isn’t really a choice) all the plans I had for my life, there is a trickle – a spring, if you will – dripping in.

This upside-down kingdom that I’ve written about before is taking root inside of my life. Can I actually brag about the fact that as my plans, dreams and aspirations have dwindled (mind you, not totally willingly) I have been getting something that no one can ever take from me? That no hardship, no struggle, no unexpected disaster will ever remove from my life? I think I can, because I just sort of stumbled into this and it really only started because of a naïve prayer I uttered unwittingly years ago and have continued to pray sporadically since. I can brag, because this time it’s not me driving my agenda – it’s Him who is doing it. And what I’m getting? Him. More of Him.

I have spent so many years talking about a God I didn’t know as if He was my closest companion. I’m just starting to realize that I barely know Him. And I mean, barely. As a result, I’m hesitant to even try to put words to the truth of Jesus that is getting wedged in my soul. It’s so real I’m cautious to touch it for fear that I’ll somehow taint the display of it.

I guess I’ll just end with this that I read this morning:

One thing I have desired of the Lord. That will I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in His temple. For in the time of trouble He shall hide me in his pavilion; In the secret place of His tabernacle He shall hide me.”

Shout out to Em!

Seems that everyone has an opinion these days about what should go in our blog. Being an opinionated person, I’m not surprised that I tend to be around others equally (if not more) opinionated than me; so, I’m not threatened by this barrage of requests on what we should write in our diary. I just mostly ignore them

But, because we’re lacking any solid updates on our adoption and I’m not feeling as inspired today to air my private life to the public world, I thought I would give a shout out to my friend Em … the only person I can honestly admit is a better adult-sized cheerleader than I am. Being that she was my running buddy when Nate and I first started dating seven and a half years ago, she knows an awful lot more information than most reading this blog (hard to believe, I know). There’s a lot you can talk about when running 10 miles with someone.

So, in honor of Em — taking a quick break from her life in Celebration, Florida (I’m not kidding) to have coffee with us during her visit to Charlottesville — I will grant her request: “put more pictures on your blog!” and refrain from commenting on why this dear friend might choose pictures over the text. Maybe the picture will speak for itself.

I love you, Emily!

(And contrary to the impression I’m giving, she’s actually a smartypants )

How does this tie into adoption? Well, it doesn’t.

Don’t worry, this blog is not going to now become my personal rockumentary … it’s still an adoption blog. I’m just diverging for a moment in effort to keep my own waning attention.

Shifting gears: here’s what had us in tears tonight. Ohhhhhh … how much longer??

Watch and weep at the latest adoption video we’ve fallen in love with:

Keeping it at Bay

I realized just this morning that I have been doing what I’m sure most people do when they experience pain/deferred hope/waiting … I’ve been pretending like the