The End of My Rope

Back a long time ago- well, what seems like a long time ago- when it was just me and Tommy for the most of my days, I decided to babysit my niece (who is the same age as Tommy.)  Two babies and a new mama, there are a whole lot of stories and disclamiers that could come out of that year, but, most basically- I did it.  I watched two babies for the better part of the day. Somewhere in my mind I figured I managed a horribly collicy baby and my sweet niece, and therefore I could conquer the world. I remember Kenney and I still had standards. Dishes were never left in the sink. There were never fingerprints on the windows. We woke up early on Saturday mornings to do laundry and wash our bedroom sheets. Every. Saturday. Morning. (Well, being honest, he woke up and pulled the sheets from under me and I am pretty sure I fought that kicking and screaming- seriously.) We kept lists, and had routines, and planned weekend projects. I distinctly remember being proud. It makes me a bit nauseous now, but I remember thinking it. I was happy, yes, but secretly proud. Money wasn't really tight. I lost my baby weight. We had a clean and managed house. We even had a cat and a puppy. Even little colicy Tommy would take a bottle from Daddy now and then, to give me a break. Even on my worst days it felt like things were in control. Even on those bad days when Tommy didn't stop crying and I was exhausted, I remember the dozens and dozens of people that either gave practical advice or the simple quote... "It will get easier, it will get better."  I really did believe life progressed and got "better."

Then Noah came home and I was five months pregnant. We kinda bumbled along those first five months. Audrey was born, and we realized Noah needed some help. Therapy began- Speech Therapy, Occupation Therapy, Developmental Therapy, Physical Therapy, a Behavioral Psychologist, and even a Nutritional Therapist.

The house was full. Somewhere in-between pre and post Noah we moved, we gutted the "new" house out. We traveled to Russia four times. My brother and sister-in law and their new little baby moved in with us. At some point I began babysitting again. Finances changed, our house didn't sell for what we had hoped. The mortgage was high, and the loan we planned on getting to remodel the house in the beginning was used for adoption. Yet, somehow in the midst of all of this we decided to adopt both Isabell and Caleb.  And somehow, we thought special needs, and handicaps and deafness would all be okay too.  So we signed up for more financial "tightness" more people, more stuff, more needs. 

Not even months after we were back with Isabell and Caleb, we planned to go back for Charlotte.  More special needs, Cerebral Palsy to be exact.  We even adopted two more dogs (one who had just delivered puppies) to add to the mix.

There is a whole lot of missing information and pieces in the above paragraphs, but that information isn't the point.

You see, for me loving my little baby boy, colic and all was easy, being a mama wasn't so bad. My little Tommy spent nine months in my womb hearing my voice, listening to my heartbeat. I spoke words of praise, of joy, of delight over him. He was wanted and the two of us grew together. He was born healthy, nearly perfect.  He rolled over and crawled and walked perfectly. He talked perfectly. He ate perfectly. His body did exactly what healthy bodies do. He was loved from the very moment of conception, by both his mommy and his daddy. Sadly, I took the credit for it. I believed it was me. I believed somewhere in my sinful, broken heart that I was what made this little boy giggle and coo and smile at his mama.  As he grew up and began to read and write, and became a mostly well mannered little boy, as he ate all his veggies and asked for more, again, I took the credit, and I believed it was me. I believed I was a good mama.

Today.

I cry more than all the past years in my life almost every day. I am a mess. A real, dirty, needy mess. These children, even more specifically the children brought to us by adoption. They ruin me.

Some of my children can not walk at the age of five years old. When I go to the grocery store, I have to park next to a shopping cart corral that has a cart, because there is no way for me to carry both Charlotte and Isabell and hold Caleb and Audrey's hand, and monitor the safety of Tommy and Noah. So if there is no shopping cart, or spot open near a corral- I have to wait, keep driving around, or just leave. I have to get them out of bed in the morning. Carry them to the table, carry them to the living room, carry them downstairs if we all go downstairs, carry them outside if we all want to go out and play.

Some of my children can not use their hands or arms or bodies to get dressed, to brush their teeth, to feed themselves, to hold a cup and drink, to color, to play with their toys, so I feed them, I dress them, I brush their teeth for them, I hold their cup.

Some of my children can not talk. Cannot. Nothing, no words, nothing.  She's almost six years old and all we do is look into each other's eyes, and some days I have no idea what she needs or is trying to tell me. She can barely manipulate her arms, or hands, let alone fingers and so signing isn't much of an option. She can not call out to me in the night and ask for a drink if she is thirsty. She can not say the words every mother longs to hear.... "I love you."

Some of my children are hearing impaired. He can not hear what I am trying to say, he gets confused, he has a hard time talking, of communicating his needs. So I resort to talking loud, almost yelling. I repeat myself over and over, only to be stared at blankly. 

Some of my children have ADHD, SPD and other brain/behavior disorders. Things are confusing. Learning the alphabet is nearly impossible, even thought at five we sing the song every day over and over. They break down, throw tantrums, screaming lying on the floor, all because I politely asked don't touch. They can't sit still, they can't focus. They can't stop pulling at their sleeves or picking at their cuts and scrapes. They cry because someone touched them one minute and the next could gash their head open and not even notice. Their brains are confused and in a basic sense don't work the way they are supposed too. Trips in public can be a nightmare. We have to have special diets- no gluten, no food coloring, no preservatives, no cured meats, stay away from genetically modified foods, extra Omega 3's, extra liquids, eat every two hours.

Some of my children are hurt. From the moment they were conceived things were not like it was for Tommy. I do not know that the nine months (if it was even that) they spent in the womb, words of love, of affirmation, or joy were spoken over them. I know for a fact, some were thrown away, literally in a garbage bag left to die. I know some were malnourished, some spent the first year of their life on their backs, in a crib staring at a ceiling. I know some of them physically hurt. Their bodies were literally broken. They've undergone numerous surgeries and spent more time in a hospital than Kenney and I, and most all the adults I know. They've had multiple "mommies." They've had people come and go. The bonds that a mother and a child have... they've had and then lost, and then had and then lost, and lost and lost again, while some... have had nothing. 

Everything I thought I had control over- my son's walking and talking, his health and his happiness- I believed a lie.  The lie made me proud, and proud people don't know how much they desperately need Jesus.

I am sure I said it before... said that I needed Jesus. But it was not my life's heartbeat. It wasn't the constant I heard all day. It was just words, empty, meaningless words. I know I liked to believe that Christianity was about being strong for the Lord. I know I believed that things were getting better. Life was getting better. Things were getting easier.  Somehow I believed that Christianity made me stronger, more powerful, bigger, better, more capable.  I am not quite sure exactly where I was headed, but I've heard it said "Jesus' office is at the end of your rope."  I do know I wasn't at the end of my rope. 

But I am now.

This though, is where is gets good.

Remember, dear brothers and sisters, that few of you were wise in the world’s eyes or powerful or wealthy when God called you.  Instead, God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And he chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful. God chose things despised by the world, things counted as nothing at all, and used them to bring to nothing what the world considers important.  As a result, no one can ever boast in the presence of God. --1 Corinthians 1:26-29

I can not say it any better than this quote:
"The hope of the Christian faith is dependent on God’s display of strength, not ours. God is in the business of destroying our idol of self-sufficiency in order to reveal himself as our sole sufficiency. This is God’s way—he kills in order to make alive; he strips us in order to give us new clothes. He lays us flat on our back so that we’re forced to look up. God’s office of grace is located at the end of our rope. The thing we least want to admit is the one thing that can set us free: the fact that we’re weak. The message of the Gospel will only make sense to those who have run out of options and have come to the relieving realization that they’re not strong. Counter intuitively, our weakness is our greatest strength.- Tullian Tchividjian

I have been brought to my knees- better yet the floor, flat on my face, poor and needy, crying tears of desperation. I know every single moment of every single day, I CANNOT do this. I can't. I'm lost. I'm so very helpless. I need so desperately Jesus.

My need for Jesus- it's my greatest strength.  I didn't think really that I needed Jesus, like I need Jesus now. 

It's a beautiful thing.

Being broken and having Jesus.

I didn't see my own dirty hands before, but now I see them every day. I can hold my daughters broken hands in mine, and I can see the dirt and the mess of my own hands, and I can have joy, because Jesus washed me white as snow. 

I didn't see the mess my life had become before, but now I see it every day.  Dishes piled up, shoes on my counters, unopened mail, a lunch still to be packed, and groceries still to put away. But Jesus, he cleans up messes, and he takes the weight of having to perform to have worth and value, he takes that and squashes it, and loves me in spite of the messes at the end of the day.

November is National Adoption Month and Thanksgiving.

No more an appropriate time to be thankful for adoption. God used adoption in my life to break me. Jesus heals broken people.  I am a healed, redeemed, white as snow daughter of a Heavenly Father.  I have never experienced such a joy as this and I am so very thankful.  I am thankful to be at the end of my rope, because this is where I have Jesus, and there is no better place to be.

"Leave No One Behind"

posted by Kenney

I have the privilege of being the son of a US Army Veteran that served in the Vietnam era.  The brother in law to both an Army and Marine soldier.  The grandson of an Army soldier.  The nephew of a Marine, Navy, and Army servicemen and friend of many who have served.  One thing that has always stuck with me each time I hear it in speeches or movies is how our military "leaves no one behind."

When I examine what that means in my civilian life and how I can apply that honorable "code" of living in Northwest Indiana - where there are corn fields all around us and the closest military action I ever will see is sand bagging around my house to deal with floods- I've decided this is as close as it's gonna get.

Rewind-

When we started the Chinese adoption process nearly two years ago, we were given "access" to a database of some of the waiting children.  Each child on the list was given a pseudo name in English for child protection and easy identification.

Laura and I have always adored the name "Charlotte."  In our history, we talked about naming a little girl by that name.  If Tommy was a girl, that's the name we were going to use. Then Noah came along, and obviously was not a Charlotte. Then Audrey, who at the time it felt right to name her Audrey as a namesake to her Grandmother "Nanny" and my Aunt Audrey.  Two women of impeccable character and women we looked up to.  Caleb, obviously not a Charlotte, and Isabell, who again, Charlotte just didn't fit.  In fact Laura has told her sisters that if any of them ever have little girls, the name "Charlotte" is off the table for them.  Period.  She means business.  Don't go there. (You gotta know Laura to get the seriousness of this statement. Seriously)


Back to the database of waiting children.

There was a girl on the database with the name "Charlotte."  We found out her Chinese name was Yawen.  A little girl with a cute round face, full of life eyes, and a diagnosis of Cerebral Palsy. Of course Laura gravitated to her file and requested information on her (this was before we had even looked at the files of our Isabell and Caleb) however she was not available at the time, some other family somewhere had her file and was possibly adopting her.  Since her file was not available, Laura prayed for her.  She prayed that a family would care for this little "Charlotte" and prayed for her to find a forever family.  We continued to look at children on the waiting list and eventually found our Isabell and Caleb, locked in their files and proceeded to bring them home to be a part of our family.


Fast forward 1 year.  

Laura and I are in China for a week at this point.  We have our Caleb and we are now in Guiyang, China picking up Isabell.  We arrived in a small office in a part of China that MAYBE has two-four adoptions a year.  We are chatting with Isabell's foster family.

Here is where the story starts to connect.

Through all the questions we had for the foster family we find out that Isabell has a foster sister that lives with them too and she's available for adoption.  Her foster sister's name... Yawen.

Knowing Yawen was Isabell's foster sister and the odds of 2000+ children on the waiting list in a country with over a million orphans, knowing these two girls were actually living together in a remote part of the country. Knowing they grew up together. Knowing all of this, well,  Laura knew one thing.....God was moving.

I on the other hand did not feel the movement. In fact, any form of "movement" I was feeling I chalked it up to indigestion and jet lag. Once we got back to Indiana, I suppressed any knowledge of that feeling, I hid deep in the recesses of my heart what I knew. I denied what my own heart knew. I was overwhelmed on many fronts; knowing we now had five children - five and under, some with special needs, some with a misdiagnosis that was way more complicated and difficult than what I had planned. Knowing this information, put much fear and much trepidation in my heart.  How would I continue to lead our family? How could I provide for all of our children in each of their unique needs? All I could think about was our small-mustard colored house that we lived in that needed repair and remodeling for a, gulp, wheelchair.  I would wake up at night scared not knowing what lies ahead for us.  All I could think about was the unique needs each of our children seemed to have and  I as the leader of my household had no idea how to guide them or direct them or help them. I felt that I was not leading very well at all, so to add more to lead was surely a bad idea if I couldn't even manage these five. It was all about what I felt was best.  All about what I wanted.  All about what I knew I needed to control.

I went into a season of "enough".  I reached my "enough".  Circle the wagons, it was time for internal focus on what I was living for.  By July of last year, Laura had brought up to me several times "Charlotte" and it broke her heart.  Weeping like I never saw, she would stand before me saying her heart breaks that Isabell's sister is there and we can't bring her home.  She just cried over and over again, that she felt like there was just to many "miracles" that this was our Charlotte.  I would just think to myself, someone else can handle that. I can't handle another little girl, let alone another little girl with Cerebral Palsy.

I would just look at her with a cold stare and even colder heart.  Refusing to see the hurt in my wife, refusing to help her deal with this, refusing to partner with my partner....I didn't just build a hedge....I built a wall stronger than Fort Knox.  Discussions on the topic of "Charlotte" turned into arguments and then to fights.  I refused to listen to Laura, or even talk with her about it-  I kept my wagons circled.  I failed Laura as a husband during this time.  One Saturday afternoon; it got bad.  Really really bad.  

Laura and I argued for the morning and into afternoon and to make a long story short, her parents got involved in our "conversations."  Her dad took me out for a drink to have a "guy to guy" talk.  I explained to him about "Charlotte" and the story, except the story was my story, and only a half truth of a story- and after the conversation He agreed we should be on the same page, because based on what I told him (the lie that God wasn't calling me) we weren't on the same page.  I won that battle; for whatever worth that was. We came back and shared I had told Laura's dad about Charlotte.  When Laura heard I told her dad about Charlotte, and told him a story that wasn't all true she knew the "conversations" were over.  I watched a piece of my wife die that day, and I knew it.

We didn't talk about "Charlotte" anymore.  I didn't pray for her anymore, I didn't pray about what God's will for my life was. I felt like I won.  I felt it was time to really begin living my life.  After all I had done enough.

I didn't speak about this to anyone.  I didn't tell my accountability partners. I didn't share about what had happened with any of my Christian friends.  I knew I was a "fake" Christian.  I knew I wasn't being honest with anyone.  I knew what God wanted of me, though.  I just knew it.

...and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.  When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. Matthew 10: 3b-4

Then one day I remember praying.  I remember being on my knees.  I remember opening my hands and asking God what he wanted of me.  It clicked.  My eyes became open through the Spirit that I was being called to pray for "Charlotte" again.  This started slowly.  I prayed for a good month or two.  Then one day I remember being on the phone with Laura and the words just slipped out, "we need to go back and bring her sister home."

So, Laura and I talked about it with each other. We can't bring every orphan home. We don't know what the future brings. We had no idea how all the details were going to work out or if they were even going to work out. We might be making a huge mistake.  This may be one of the most difficult things we do.  This may be a bigger challenge than we can even imagine. But one thing for sure, it has taught me than living with open hands is the best way to live. Letting God use me, however he pleases is the place to be.  Putting the focus on what God wants instead of what I want is where peace and comfort are found.

This means six children ages six and under.

So with that, China is in our destination again.  In fact, I leave tomorrow to go back to bring "Charlotte" home and forever be our Charlotte.

I can now look back and see some of the ways God moved.  In the very beginning, in something as simple as a name planted in our hearts. In meeting her foster parents, In bringing Isabell home first, In the therapists we have, in the time we've spent getting used to heading to Shriners all the time, in the drawing me closer to Himself. 


We've decided to apply the motto "Leave No One Behind" and not leave our little Charlotte an orphan any longer.

 





 

To tell the truth...

Five of them.

That's how many drafts of incomplete stories from just the last 30 days sit unpublished.

At the end of a day like today, what could I possibly write?

A dear friend, a much wiser and mature Christian friend told me (and I paraphrase) "Sometimes, if I told the truth, about what I felt and what I did, people would seriously be calling me, wondering about my faith, and questioning my sanity, and surely questioning my ability to be a wife, a mother, and a spiritual leader."

The truth is, I don't want to tell the truth.  I'm okay with telling some of the story, but honestly, I don't want anyone to know the whole truth.  I want to hide away the hurt, hide away the mistakes, the pain, the words, the drama, the big fat mess that my life really is.

I read a lot, and I think a lot.  I've been thinking about the Psalms.  Thinking about the different Psalms.  The ones about pain and hurt, the ones about happiness, about joy, about redemption and peace.  There are Psalms about anxiety, Psalms about love, discouragement, awe, delight and fear.  What a mix of emotions.  What emotional people we really are.  What an emotional person I really am. 

The truth is, I am a bunch of emotions.  To say today was only all about joy and that I was thankful and full, happy and in awe of the gifts and grace my Father bestows upon me would really be a lie.  Ask some of the people who witnessed the anger and frustration of my day.  And yet, today, the same day I received a letter in the mail from my grandma filled with words of happiness and history and pain and sorrow... an excerpt...

"You are a kind granddaughter, never to be forgotten...  Since my husband is deceased, he can't remember me...I remember the times we talked at night...Memories are great."

 

All of the thoughts that overflow.  And the irony is, my grandma has Alzheimer's and when I read the words, I wonder.... will she always remember me?  30-some years later does she miss her husband?  Is there still pain and loss?  I do remember the fun times shared with my grandma.  Doing puzzles, and eating fish-sticks,  really- great memories. Memories that DO make me happy.  How can it be?  All these feelings in just one card, a couple words on a page....

 

I do not know what the future holds.  I don't know exactly if these thoughts, so conflicting, will always rage war in my mind.  Today they do.

 

I fight battles with and for my children.  I think all parents fight battles for and with their children.  Some battles that I fight, I fight because some of my children have been adopted.  Not all parents who adopt fight these same battles.  Not all parents have children who struggle the same.  But some of my hardest battles are because my children come from a broken past.  I firmly believe the enemy, Satan, would love to claim the lives of my children, and from where he was sitting, my children, sitting in an orphanage, with no parents, little food, little clothing, no one to share with them the love of Jesus, no one to advocate on their behalf, no one.... I believe it had to look good, in Satan's favor.  I can't imagine he's happy they are here.  I can't imagine he's delighted that they hear about Jesus every day.  I can't imagine he's happy they have a mom and dad to forever love them, and forever point them to Jesus in any and every way possible.  I fight battles.  I grow weary. 

 

I fight and win battles with Christ.  We make progress. We fight to claim our children, as OURS, as orphans no more.  We fight to erase what they have been taught.  We fight to make them believe they are OURS.  We make progress, we make so much progress.  God is so gracious, so faithful, so beautiful and loving towards us.  We are in awe daily of how HE grows us, changes us, and changes and uses us and our children.

 

Yet, somehow, amidst all the joy, all the change, all the growth, hurt and defeat creep in.  I am amazed though, at what I have found to "kill" me the most.  It's the everyone else. 

 

There are two (okay three... after typing, I had to add another...oops...seriously...   I now have four.... I have a problem, admittedly I do)  practical conclusions that I have arrived at this evening. 

 

1.  Antarctica is cold. Africa is hot.  But... do the people in Africa have any understanding of being cold like the people (if there were ones) in Antarctica?  Do the people (if there were ones) in Antarctica have any understanding of being hot, like the people in Africa?  The point really is, there is something that I very much lack in understanding regarding the things, I have no experience with.  I do not know what it is like to be a widow.  I do not know what it is like to loose a parent.  I don't know what divorce is like.  I don't know about LOTS of things.  I have been hurt many times, too many times, by the ones I love, because I am in Antarctica, and they are in Africa.  Neither hot nor cold is any better or worse in theory.  Yet, because we have and deal with "issues" related to things some have not experienced, it seems a perfect breeding ground for things like anger, frustration, condemnation, and mostly judgement to pop up.

 

2.  I am just as guilty.  I have compassion so much for the new mom with a new baby that doesn't stop crying.  I want to love on the parents who have just arrived home with their newly adopted child.  I want to help the marriages that fight to be set apart from what the world deems as a "healthy marriage".  I have understanding and grace to extend to almost everyone who has experienced any experience that I have personally experienced.  That's it.  Single moms.... probably not on my radar.  Widows, cancer patients, divorcees.... I don't know about that... so I find myself lacking grace, lacking compassion, and surely saying words that hurt, words that cut, actions that at the end of the day, make those whom I've sinned against feel weary and defeated. 

 

3.  I fail to obey and conform to Christ's character.  I have put the recognition and acceptance of other's in the place of Jesus.  In other words, instead of looking to Christ to fill me, making me feel complete and accepted, I have put something else in His place.  I need the gospel.  Every. Single. Day.  It is only in going back to the gospel, going back to what Christ did for me on the cross, that I can be gripped by the reality of what He did for me and who I am in Him.  (awesome article on the subject, taken from here)

 

4.  I have to believe that God has delivered everything I need in the person and work of Jesus.  I have to believe that God's love is a one way love.  His love for me is unconditional.  In Christ, I have all the love, affection and worth I need, based on the person and work of Jesus. All that I tend to seek and need in less places (the acceptance and love of other, friends, family, etc) I have in Jesus.  In Christ, my deepest needs are met. I have found that when I am most resistant to love others, and serve others it is because I am afraid that I may not be loved or served back.  But, the gospel OBLITERATES that fear.  IN CHRIST MY DEEPEST NEEDS ARE MET.  That sets me free!

 

As the clock nears 1:30 am and my thoughts have gone full circle.  I rest in these thoughts.  Pain will happen, weakness will happen, insults, hardships, persecutions, difficulties.... they are all gonna happen.  People will hurt me, the ones I love will hurt me.  But, His grace - the gospel-  the finished work of Jesus on the cross is sufficient, is enough, is completely, 100% everything I need.  The more I focus on the cross, the more I see that a loving and perfect God, whom while I was still a sinner, died for me and wiped the slate clean, took away my sins, made me white as snow.... Redeemed me and has called me His daughter, the more I focus on that, the more He IS everything I need. 

 

 

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.  2 Corinthians 12:7-10

One Boy, One Picture and One God (part 2 of 2)

That's the picture that we all looked at.  This family fell in love with the cutest fuzzy haired boy. 

But, the events that have led up to where we are today, are nothing short of a miracle.  And we are overjoyed and forever changed to be a part of it.

We requested Caleb's file, however it was unavailable at the time, as another family was looking into adopting him, so we started looking at other children.  We found Isabell, locked in her file and started to proceed with the adoption.

Caleb's file was available again.  The family didn't proceed.

We decided to adopt two.

Only weeks before we were getting ready to leave for China, I just so happened to decide to look up the weather for Zhengzhou (where he is from) and got somehow re-routed to a yahoo group, found where he lived (in an awesome group home, not the local orphanage) found the director of the home, and within hours was on the phone with her.

If you don't know this story, feel free to catch up here.

She then gives me the information of a woman from the states, who just so happens to be doing an internship there, gives me her facebook info, we become friends, and start talking.

We hoped to somehow find time while in China to possibly meet up, and planned for a Tuesday.

Things happened, she couldn't get off of work due to a child dying. (if after reading that statement you don't want to cry, read it again)  She suggested maybe we meet on Wednesday, however we already had plans with our agency for that Wednesday.

While in China, originally our agency has planned on us seeing the local orphanage of the city where Caleb was from, however, something fell through the loops and we were unable to go.

Our guide/translator who is pretty much with us at all times, suggested we see a museum or something, so we planned on doing that with her.  But for whatever reason, last minute, decided it would be better to visit with the lady who took care of our son for the last 6 months.

Next thing we know, we are here.

And spending time with these kids:

We asked about each child.  Asked about their health and special needs.  Asked if anyone had inquired about them.  We asked lots and lots of questions. 

One little girl stood out, she looked tired and was quiet.  She spent much of her time in the corner away from almost everyone else, except when the kids got together to sing songs.  She loved to sing songs.  No one had inquired about her.  She had an untreated heart condition, that if NOT treated we were told she would die.  We were told, it should have already been treated, but she is an orphan, and the cost and the care in China is insurmountable.  So there she sat.  Dying.  No mommy to tuck her in and sing her songs.  Dying.  No daddy to tell her she is loved and adored. Dying.

Kenney and I spent the rest of the entire day talking about her and her friend (next to her in the above picture) We already had Caleb, and we would be picking up Isabell soon, and two is the limit for adopting at one time within a year or two period. We wondered if somehow we could go back and get her.  We knew in our hearts it wasn't an option.  But, she was dying.  I held her.  I was there.  She wasn't just a name or a face.  She was real.  I thought about how precious she is to our Heavenly Father.  I thought about my own children.  How much I loved them and held them and cared for them. I wondered if she would grow up and know the name of Jesus.  I wondered if she would even grow up.  My heart just hurt so miserably.  I was past crying and tears.  There was just a burden and an ache that wouldn't go away. 

I didn't know what to do.

We laid down for bed that night and we couldn't sleep. We just prayed over and over again the same prayer. "God, what can we do?"  "Is there even anything we can do?"

It seemed there was no answer, no solution, no way to help.

So, in an act of desperation.  Because I wanted someone to tell me I wasn't alone.  Because I wanted someone to tell me that there was someone who understood the pain my heart felt.  I posted her picture on facebook, to share with my friends that this little girl without a mommy and daddy, will die, and that makes my heart hurt.

And from the other side of the world someone saw her picture.  Our friends the Carr's read the words and felt God calling them.  In the words of Eva "that's what the message said {if she doesn't get a mommy and daddy she's going to die} plain and simple...and impossible to ignore."

Their story is not our story, but our little boy will forever be a part of their story, of the story HE is writing for all of us.  Their story includes God moving mountains, of them bringing home not only the little girl our heart was burdened for, but her best friend.  Their story IS grace. Read their story here and be amazed at our God!

Many, many thoughts fill my mind and heart about this little girl.

The love our Father has for her.  How He has held her and cared for her in every single detail. In us choosing Caleb, in randomly finding the yahoo group, in finding the director of her home, in finding the caretaker, in arranging for us to meet and see the home, in all the prayers, in getting her paperwork ready at exactly the moment the Carr's were ready for her, and then all the details in the Carr's story.... moving to Iowa, finding a heart specialist, meeting Chinese speaking friends, oh my heart just bursts at all the details.  Every single detail, perfect. A delicate balance, as if any one of the details failed or didn't work, the entire story would be lost.  But our God, He is in the details.  He worked every little thing out for this precious child to have a mommy and daddy.

But, one thought to me stands out.  One thing, I have thought about almost every day for the last six months.

What if that picture never got posted?

While I 100% believe in a sovereign God.  That He knows everything.  Every thought before I think it.  Every person before they are formed.  He knows tomorrow and the next and the next.  There is nothing God doesn't know.  Nothing that surprises Him.  He is all powerful, omnipotent, and perfect.

But, we have free will, and always have a choice. (note, that would be a dad-ism, you have a choice, you always have a choice.)

There is a lesson here for me.  A lesson to be reminded that God can use anyone and anything, no matter how small.  So many times I move through life doing nothing.  I pass the man holding a sign on US-30.  I ignore the people who are looking to me for a friend.  I pass sign up sheets at church for help in the nursery. I spend more money on myself instead of using it to advance God's kingdom. I read articles about kids in foster care. I read articles about how hard it is to be a single mom.  I read about those who will go to bed with no food for dinner.  I think about it, it makes me sad, and then I do nothing.  Mostly, I do nothing though, because anything seems impossible.  I can't be a foster mom, I already have children that I am working through problems with, therefore, I do nothing.  The man holding the sign - I have no cash to give him, therefore I do nothing. On and on it goes.... doing nothing, all because something seems too big and too impossible. 

All along though, it's my heart that Jesus wants.  So whether I am the family adopting a sweet child who needs a mommy and daddy, or I am the family putting a picture of her on facebook.  It's my heart HE is looking at.

Something doesn't have to be big.  It can just be a picture on facebook.  It's God who does any and every good thing.  He just wants my heart, a heart open to something.

Isn't it ironic?

A full week has passed since we've been home from China.  I've been thinking so many thoughts about so many things, it's truly a tornado inside my brain.  Then again, when isn't it!

Mostly though, what I think about most, is how adoption changed my world.

The changes though, are not what most would expect.  Before we adopted any children we went into adoption blindly.  To be honest, we thought adoption was a good thing.  We thought we were making a difference in the life of a child.  We read cliche quotes like the following and gave a loud resounding AMEN!

"I can not make a difference in the life of all the children, but in the life of one child I made a difference"

(note, these things and quotes may all be true, but there was an aspect to adoption we were totally missing)

We thought we could parent a hurting child and make it better for them. We thought we would hold them, and care for them, and their world would be a little bit better. When we thought about the impact a child would make on our lives, we thought about therapies for them, help for them. We would do whatever it took to help them. As my friend stated;  "the healthy helping the unhealthy, the strong helping the weak."

We brought our second son home, and were wildly mistaken.  We were faced with parenting a child with pain, abuse, malnourishment, loss, and fear.

Let me tell you, all our initial thoughts could not have been further from the truth!

We came face to face with brokenness, and we realized we couldn't face our son's brokenness without coming face to face with our own gross, ugly brokenness too.

again, in the words of a friend...

Fear, shame, pain, anger, and  insecurity cause my child to break down and lose it.  My own fear, shame, pain, anger, and insecurity fuel my embarrassing responses to his behavior.  To say this isn't how I imagined these scenarios playing out pre-adoption would be laughable.

Before adopting I thought I'd be here for my child, the instrument of help and healing to my child.  The real truth is, I'm simply here with my child.  Walking through our hurt and dysfunction together.  Holding my child after an episode that leaves us sweaty and breathless admitting that we're both a wreck in need of healing.  In need of a miracle.

Me, needing to be parented by God while I attempt to parent.

Me, a child of this fallen world and thus a child of trauma to some extent, attempting to parent a child of trauma.

And that is where the change in my world came in. 

Prior to adopting I thought we would be bringing hurt and pain into our story, but now I realize hurt, pain, trauma, dysfunction, lies, fear, and hate were ALREADY a part of MY story.

We thought prior to adopting that God would use us, we would be His hands and feet, all to bring healing to a child.... and yet adoption will forever be the reason healing, redemption, and restoration began in my own life.  In the words of Alanis Morrisette... "isn't it ironic?"  In this midst of a heartfelt story, I want to note, I secretly do still like her, ah yes, I am multifaceted!

So we bravely and courageously decided to adopt two more kids, we went into it, again like my friend said...

 "we're already imperfect in this house, feel like fat parenting failures most days while raising kids without a lot of emotional scars, and yet we're willing to rearrange our own dysfunction to make space for another life filled with hurt and fear."

What adoption has done for me, is brought me to my knees.  People say all the time, "how blessed these children are to have us."  They do not realize how blessed I am to have them. These children have shown me myself.  They have revealed the sin in my life.  They have brought me out of my middle American ways.  They've allowed me to see things I have and would have never seen before. They've given me a chance to live real Christianity, not a watered down version.  Who Christ is has been revealed to me in these last years, more than my lifetime.

It doesn't take a family adopting to realize our fallen state, the sin, the pain, fear and suffering we all have in our hearts.  For me, for this family, I am thankful He brought us to adoption, without it, I have no idea where I would be.  I fear it would be drowning, but the worst part about it is, I would have had no idea I was.

 

Almost there...

For the entirety of our life together, Kenney and I have never spent 19 days, every hour and every minute of each of these 19 days, completely with each other, NEVER apart... heck, our hotel room even allows for us to watch each other in the bathroom.... just saying... think what you like...

We have had much time to talk and share about all kinds of things.  It's amazing the conversations you have when you are together all the time.  Some things we have talked about, that we don't want to forget...

1.  We are too greatly influenced by our surroundings and environment.  In China, the average home (note people don't usually own homes, they buy apartments) is 600 - 800 square feet, and that is considered, normal, not small.  How can I go back home to my 1700 square foot house and complain?  I know how, I look at my friends and family and I see their house, and I desire that.  What a horrible sin that we have allowed into our lives, and so easily justified it.  We could go on and on about the differences in culture and privilege, but that isn't the point, the point is, we have determined what we need for our lives instead of letting God determine what we need.  We don't want to live like that.  On the plane ride I read the book by Jen Hatmaker called "7."  I totally recommend to anyone who is ready for a heart-changing read.  This last year Kenney and I have been bothered by the excess we have.  The amount of toys, clothes, how much food we have, the extras in life...  we are slowly beginning to realize what God meant when he said it was going to be harder for a rich man to get to heaven than a camel to pass through the eye of a needle.  I pray that each day we can have Jesus be all we need, and if it means we have to get to a point where Jesus is all we have, then so be it! 

 Then he said to them, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.” Luke 12:15

2.  We take Christianity for granted.  Through some awesome opportunities only God could have orchestrated we have met some awesome Christians in China.  A dear friend, I have only just met, introduced me to some other Christians like this, "Laura, this is one of your sisters."  What a profound thought.  A thought I never thought about until today.  There will be people who are not my immediate family that I will spend eternity with.  And even more profound, and as much as I hope and pray my immediate family is all in heaven with me to spend eternity, they may not all be.  Jesus makes it quite clear that our family in Christ is just as much as a family as our "immediate family"

Luke 12:53  They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.

Matthew 12:50  For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.

He personally calls us His brother or sister, if we are His, and do His will.  To be introduced to someone as my sister, was so amazing, the thought behind the title, the idea that someone half a world away, that I have never met, I will spend eternity with is amazing!  I have taken for granted the relationships I have and can have with fellow believers.

3.  We eat and drink too much!  Seriously this is a no-brainer.  Super size at McDonald's doesn't exist like it does in America.  The largest size drink you can get here is the size of a medium back home.  Our obsession with food in America is over the top.  When we eat out in China, we all order a couple of things for the table and we all share.  What a great way to cut back on the quantity of food everyone eats.  The answer to making sure there is enough food for the whole table is to make sure you don't eat too much, instead of ordering more, you just personally cut back.  Over-eating doesn't happen. 

4.  Isabell's physical needs are much more than we thought.  Clubbed hands and feet are the least of her problems.  She had a surgery when she was about a year old, but it wasn't done well and she had no therapy.  Her ankles are completely hardened.  They don't move at all!  Her original disease of MOP/FOP may be a reality.  Her knees are in the bent position, always sitting.  Because she was always kept like this without therapy her skin never grew,  because her legs were never straight, at this point there isn't enough skin behind her legs for her to even be able to straighten her legs if she wanted to.  Her legs are so tiny, she has no muscles tone and the size of her legs is that of maybe a 10 month old baby. Her arms are in the exact same state, except they are straight and she can't bend them.  She can only sit, and has no use of her arms or legs. When she sleeps she wakes up every hour and cries that her ankles or her knees hurt.  She can't close her legs completely together, so it's like she is doing a permanent leg lift.  I imagine the pressure on some of her joints is quite miserable.

Funny thing though, because we have had to deal so much with her sadness, because we have had such a language barrier, because we have had to talk too much and spend so much of our time regarding her loss of her first family, her physical problems have taken a back seat.  In such a glorious way, we have come to realize as big of a deal it may seem to some, it isn't.  Not to diminish her needs, but to realize that God knew exactly what her diagnosis was long before we even thought about adoption. He knows exactly what is wrong with her, He knows exactly what her outcome will be.  He has told us through His word, that He cares for the Lilly of the field and clothes them in beauty, how much more does He care for us?  He has told us we can't even add an hour to our life with worry, why even bother worrying then? God knit Isabell together in her mother's womb. She is an image-bearer of Christ.  Regardless if she lives to 20 or 100, regardless if she walks or doesn't, she is still loved by the Father and held in the security of His hand. 

In no way do I want to diminish the pain and reality of dealing with some of these special needs, but truly Christ has told us to not worry, to fear not, and that He can offer a peace that no one else can.  We have felt that peace descend upon us.  The prayers offered on our behalf by the believers of the world have been answered.  The joy we've experienced, the grace He's shown us, the peace, oh the peace.  No matter what our circumstance is, His offer of peace still stands for any of His children.

5.  WE ARE READY FOR OUR FAMILY TO ALL BE TOGETHER!  Oh sweet joy, we board a plane in less than 24 hours to go home! 

6.  Useless tidbits of information.... Northface knockoffs look exactly like Northface, we tried but couldn't find the differences.  Chinese bathrooms are not fun, especially if you have the runs, or a child who can't stand, but is totally potty trained. 

Gas masks are a staple item in all hotel rooms here.  McDonald's is the same yucky McDonald's.  Tea markets and pearl markets are the most wonderful places to shop.  Hopefully we do not have problems in customs, we rather enjoyed the tea and pearls, and our luggage is proof of that.  Chinese herbal medicine is 200 million times better than Pepto, or Immodium for those problems like nausea, vomitting, diarreah... and no side effects (for a good time, go look at the possible side effects on your bottle of Pepto... it's amazing!)  Split pants are just strange, I have yet to really see the convenience of it?  The lamb here is awesome, if I could we would eat lamb everyday!  If you have blonde hair and blue eyes and are in a remote area of China and go shopping, you may be stopped and asked for your autograph... I don't know why, but it happened... a lot!

Thank you all for your love and support and most importantly prayers, we have felt them!

A Tale of Two Cities...

It was the best of times and it was the worst of times…

A sweet sister in Christ shared a story with me some time ago about the mixed feelings adoption can bring, and that is how she opened her story.  I found such comfort and honesty in her story that today, I share a similar story.

We picked up Caleb on Monday February 27^th.  He stuck to me like glue.  Every movement I made, every place I went he followed.  At a near 35 pounds, carrying him around for hours on end got a bit old.  He cringed at Kenney’s touch and pitched a monumental fit when Kenney would even look at him.  We did our best to “try.” Kenney tried holding him, with me in the room, without me in the room, it didn’t matter.  Not only was it emotionally taxing, when we would go in public we would have people stare and almost yell at us, if Kenney was holding him and he was pitching a fit.

Our prayer each day was to be “a little bit closer” to make baby steps of progress.  Every day we would kneel at our bedside and repeat these thoughts.

I refuse to worry; in this world there will always be something to worry about- that is the nature of a fallen, fractured planet.  Temptations to be anxious are constantly with us, trying to worm its way into our minds, and our best defense is continual communication with HIM, richly seasoned with thanksgiving. Awareness of His presence fills our minds with light and peace, and leaves no room for fear. “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very thing, why do you worry about the rest?” Luke 12:25-26. We would repeat God’s words, “fear not” “trust me” and over and over again we opened our hands and asked Him to go before us and take our hands.

On Monday we prayed to fear not and trust HIM

On Tuesday we prayed to fear not and trust HIM

On Wednesday we prayed  to fear not and trust HIM

On Thursday we prayed to fear not and trust HIM

On Friday we prayed to fear not and to trust HIM

On Saturday we prayed to fear not and to trust HIM

And then on Sunday morning we came before Him, so worried, so scared, we didn’t listen to His command to fear not.  The devils “what if’s” they hit you hard.  They hit even harder in a country far away from home, without my other children, without my family, without my brothers and sisters in Christ.  And so we woke up, not knowing what was going to happen when we got ready to pick up Isabell. 

Sunday morning, miraculously, Caleb ran to daddy.  We walked to the grocery store and Kenney held Caleb, the ENTIRE time.  No fussing, no crying, no screaming for mama.  It was in God’s time. God teaching us lesson after lesson in trust.  We rejoiced.

It was the best of times…

My heart was prepared for turbulent waters with Isabell.  I dreamt about how difficult “gotcha day” was going to be.  I tried to push it out of my mind, but in an almost peaceful way God was preparing my heart, almost like going through Lamaze classes, we are taught about the pain, only to deal with it better.

And there we sat in the adoption affairs office on Sunday afternoon.  It was just us and our guide.  No other families, we were alone.  The heat was not on and we sat shivering.  We heard footsteps climbing the five flights to our floor.  They walked in.  My sweet Isabell, held by her foster father, following up the stairs was her foster mother, brother, two sisters, and grandpa.  They brought her dressed beautiful, in her best coat and pants, and had even bought new shoes for the occasion.  They had bags full of gifts.  They brought her favorite toys, her favorite snacks, new hair bows, a special handmade silver charm bracelet, brand new Chinese outfits, a gift for us, and photo albums full of pictures, pictures of when she was a baby, her foster family, pictures showing places they took her, to the beach, in a stroller, when she had her surgery, to the spring festival.

They told us how they had been preparing her, but that they loved her, they wanted to see her loved, see her get the surgery and the care she needed.  She clung to the only daddy she has ever known for almost four years.  She screamed over and over again she wanted to go home and she didn’t want me.  They kept telling our guide all kinds of things about her, her favorites, how she slept, how to rub her ankles because they ached.

Stupid rules, stupid laws, I cried.  My thoughts immediately drifted to the cross.  Where Jesus bore my pain, my guilt, my sins, my fears- and the weight of it all crushed me.  To see this families love for a little girl, and to take her away.  Oh the pain in adoption I had never experienced until now.  The sins of this world that have left children abandoned, the sins of this government, that make rules that are not God’s rules.  If I could I would have begged for her first family to keep her, but the rules of the government, they can not.  Where we are they have no real medical care, and she will just get worse physically.  They would eventually take her away, and suffer grave consequences  even if they tried to keep her. There were so many tears in all our eyes.  The real sickness I felt because of this pain.  This world today reminded me it is broken, it is full of sin and pain, and heaven will have none of this.

The love this family had for Isabell was real, and pure, kind, patient, longsuffering, genuine, - agape.  In a dark place where the city practices mostly all Buddhism there is very little light.  I saw the light.  The mother kept telling our guide something, but the guide was not translating, and finally in a desperate effort the mother came up to me, opened my hand, and placed a small tiny wooden cross in my hand and said “Christos.”  At this point I was a crying, sobbing, nutcase.  I felt my body weeping, nodding my head telling her Yes! Yes!  we are too, we will teach her all about Jesus.  I looked over at Kenney and saw the tears pouring down his cheeks as well.  Even with a language barrier, we all communicated the same thing.  We understood this entire situation was crappy, but it was the only way, the best way, Jesus’ way.

We got back to the hotel room, and she screamed and cried for hours.  She cried she didn’t want me to touch her, she didn’t want me to hold her, she wanted to go home, she wanted her mamma and her baba.  I laid down with her tiny broken heart and body and cried with her and for her.  It was all I could do.  Jesus knows my thoughts.

It was the worst of times…

13 days and counting...

“Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:25-26

This was our verse this morning...

So we sit looking at each other, is this true for us?  Do we desire nothing on this earth except for Christ? 

We realize we fall short.  Our flesh wins sometimes, we want things our way, perfect in our own eyes.  We think we can do it.  We think we possess the power and the talent and the resources to accomplish our desires.  Yet, we fail, over and over again.  God is our strength, not we ourselves. 

We are resting in this verse today.  We rest knowing God will  be our strength.  He will be all we need today.  If we don't eat the food we like, or if my arms feel like breaking because I've been holding Caleb for too long, or if Kenney is trying desperately to love on Caleb and he rejects him... it's all okay, because there is nothing on earth we desire except for Christ.  He will be our portion. 

I think it might be a dadism, not sure, but somewhere, someone said "baby steps"  (okay, maybe it was Dave Ramsey...lol)

For one minute today Caleb loved daddy... only one minute and the rest, well crying would be an understatement, but one minute is a baby step

These children will forever be on our hearts, if I could I would bring them all home, but for now, baby steps, they will remain on our hearts.

And this little boy, he will forever change our lives, but for now, baby steps... pray for him, he is having a very hard time right now.