Where I start isn't where I end

I am having a hard time putting my thoughts on paper.

It seems there are just too many of them. 

They are all so unique, so important, each thought carries complexities of their own. 

I just can't seem to wrap my finger around what is going on.

To be honest with myself, I find myself lacking in so many ways.  I find myself saying words to my husband, children, family, friends, that I shouldn't have.  I find apologies nearly impossible.  I find tears come all too easy.  I find parenting tiresome.  I feel scared.  I feel inadequate.  I find myself struggling to discern "real" feelings, feelings that are warranted, that are genuine that are practical and cautious from the feelings that are crippling.  Feelings that Satan uses to turn me away from the one I need to turn to. 

I find myself in God's word more than I have ever been. Ever.  And yet, my failures, my sin, my mistakes, my conflicts, my sin nature seems to be quite evident- evident in my relationships, my parenting... you name it!

I find myself continually navigating through new waters.  I am reminded that no matter what, we don't arrive, we don't stop growing, we don't stop changing.  Each new day, brings new challenges.  Each hurdle I cross, there is another- brand spanking new one- waiting on the other side of the one I just crossed.

Take today.  I took Isabell for her second opinion at Shriner's.  We are up to four medical professionals giving their advice and opinions, and now we added a fifth.  Background info first though-

 

Last summer Kenney saw the picture of a darling little girl.  A little girl with the sweetest smile, cute piggy tails and pink hair bows.  This little girl carried a BIG diagnosis- clubbed hands, clubbed feet and MOP/FOP.  Well, we got together a bunch of people, researched, made calls, yadda yadda, and came to the conclusion the big scary diagnosis of MOP/FOP (her body turns to a giant skeleton before the age of 20 and she dies) probably really is not accurate.  While we couldn't be certain, we were confident.  Which left us with a little girl with clubbed hands and clubbed feet.  Well, medical intervention and modern day medicine can "fix" those conditions, so much so that you wouldn't even know the problem was ever there...we read that Kristi Yamaguchi (the Olympic figure skater) and Troy Aikman (NFL) had clubbed feet. 

We started to prepare ourselves.  Read up, research, you know, become informed and educated, because that was so important.  We kinda had a black and white reasoning.  On one hand, her issues were nothing really, simple, fixable, some work, time involved, maybe a couple of years, but then its all better and we can "forget" there ever was a problem.  On the other hand, it was terrible, nothing we could do, no interventions, she'd have to live her short life in a bubble, we'd pray for her, love her, and she'd loose her life early on to her disease.

Today again.  I took Isabell for her second opinion at Shriner's.  I spent hours talking about wheelchairs, mobility devices, braces, splints, OT and PT until she is an adult, surgical options, all kinds of things to consider, choices to make, weighing the odds of different quality of life scenarios, I met another little four year old girl with Arthrogryposis.  Every where we went were kids in braces, wheelchairs, missing limbs, walking with mobility devices.  Today Isabell was another one of those kids. 

I drove home mostly confused.  Not confused about moving forward.  Not confused about what the doctors said.  Not confused because I was sad or scared (however those feelings were there too.)  But confused because I had no idea how I got here. 

I remembered praying for clarity and wisdom.  I remember wise godly people saying they didn't think they could adopt a child with a blank disorder.  I remember weighing our options.  I remember praying, praying, praying.  Looking for open doors, closed doors, cracked windows, you name it.  Yet my heart is and was sinful.  I still put conditions on my unanswered questions.  I still focused on what "I" wanted.  I prepared myself for what "I" thought God wanted for me.  I almost chuckle to think that I even thought to think I knew what all the options were.  I actually thought I had it figured out.  I thought I could prepare myself.  In no way am I knocking preparation, readiness, knowledge, etc, but I am laughing, mocking myself for thinking I could even know all of the possible outcomes.  I was the kid that read all the possible scenarios in the Choose Your Own Adventure Books, and then went back and re-read the story and read it exactly how I thought fitting.  I'd sometimes choose a bit of struggle, excitement, some problems for character building along the way, but in the end it would end up just like I knew I wanted it to.

I just spend so much time too much time weighing all my options, and forgetting that God may have a completely different direction to send me in.  I am continually reminded that no matter how much I research, think practically, pray for wisdom or seek guidance- God's word says:

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:8-9

I am at that place again where I realize I am incapable of managing my family, my children, my spouse, unless it is Christ in me who manages all of this.  All the practical advice in the world will and can not save me or my children.  I am working on five years of practical parenting advice, and while it is practical and important, it does and will not do me any good without the mercy, grace and love of Christ working in me.  My kids don't always (but should) follow the rules.  They don't always eat well, sleep well, handle their problems well... etc... but even if they did... if they did so without having Christ's love in their hearts... it is of no use.  I re-read 1 Corinthians over and over again.

I begin to realize over and over again that without Christ's love, without His mercy, without a faith that saves, without a savior, myself, my children, my husband... we are all doomed....nothing, not rules or behaviors, not walking or talking, nothing is profitable if I don't have Christ's love.

I have felt the failure of my parenting. But, with Christ, I can mimic the gospel.  I want to bring that to my children, because I have been given that gift, while still a sinner, every day.  I want to give that to my children because it has been given to me.  I do not want my children to see me wallowing in my own self-pity, I want them to see the forgiveness and the joy that only Christ can give. 

On a car ride home, confused about mobility devices, God reminds me I need to bring these things to Him with open hands.  He reminds me that the Spirit in me can parent my children.  He reminds me the Spirit is God, and God can do anything. He gives me the courage I find I do not have.  He gives me the grace I can not find anywhere else.  He gives me the encouragement I can't find.  He gives me the unselfish love that nothing can compare too.

Where I think I am going, well, it just may not be where God sends me.  Just a bit like this post-where I thought I would end-I didn't. 

I ended on my need for more of Christ and less of me.  It is where it seems I keep being brought to.

John 3:30  He must increase, but I must decrease

An Ordinary Day. An Extraordinary God.

I stole the title.  I read it somewhere else, and loved it.  It speaks truth to my life. 

A beautiful day in Crown Point today.  The wind blew and the sun shined.  The temperature was perfect.  We planted potatoes.  The kids walked the trails.  The dogs chased squirrels.  Kids quarreled.  We ate breakfast.  We ate lunch.  Kenney came home and we opted for a simple dinner.  Nachos, fresh pineapple, and a last minute pinterest find of zucchini bites.  The adults in the family drank a glass of wine.  We sat at the table.  Tommy and Audrey were reminded to keep sitting.  We all took turns praying. (We actually fight about who gets to pray at the dinner table... ummm... something a bit wrong with that picture!)  Noah had to be reminded to stay focused.  Caleb had to be reminded to keep chewing.  Isabell had to be hand fed.  Tommy chatted on and on about the pet frog he wanted and his walk to Nana's house today. 

All the while Kenney and I talked about how excited we are to have friends coming to visit us.  We talked about what kind of dog we would like when it's time to get another dog.  We talked about trips to the beach, about vacations.  We chatted about our favorite places to eat.  We talked about school for the kids. 

I decided I needed some things from Home Depot and we cleared the table and at 7pm made a trip out with the family.

At the end of the day

the dishes are still in the sink

the laundry still waits to be put away


But tonight, Kenney and I sat and talked while the kids slept.  We enjoyed the evening.  We enjoyed the hustle and bustle of our gifts of children.  We enjoyed each other.  We both realized today, neither dishes or laundry were what mattered. 

In our ordinary day, God was glorified.  In our marriage, in our parenting, in our children - He was glorified.

Through all our mistakes, through the kids fighting, through every little detail of the day, God is still good.  He is always good.  He is always perfect.  He is always glorified.  There is nothing in my day that can not be used to bring Him glory. 

That is something to be excited about. 

These last months have been a challenge for us.  We have growing pains.  We are finding our groove.  Growing together.  Finding routine.   God is reminding us of our fallen state.  God is reminding us He is faithful.  Isabell's diagnosis of arthrogryposis has been a hit to us.  Letting go of expectations has been hard.  Satan seems to enjoy knocking at our door.  Kenney and I have had much learning and growing to do.  Each new change in our lives brings new characteristics to the surface. 

But tonight- we confess our sins.  We enjoy each other.  We enjoy our children.  We are thankful of the gifts God has given us. 

I am thankful that God knows what I need.  Even in my efforts to be realistic, and of sound mind, He knows what we need.  Isabell may never walk, may never be fully mobile.  And the sad truth is, had we known that ...  I can not say we would have made the choice that God obviously wanted us to make- because here she is, our daughter, by God's perfect plan. 

I rejoice in the fact that God is in control.  His plans for us are perfect, because God is good.

In our projects, busyness, medical diagnosis, events, and run around.  We have forgotten who God is.

He sent His son to die for our sins, because HE LOVED US.  (John 3:16)

He loved us so much, that even in our sin, in our busyness,in our forgetfulness, in our run around and medical diagnosis... in all of that... HE DIED FOR US.  (Romans 5:8)

I pray I remember today.  I remember the ordinary.  I remember the little things, the simple things.  I remember God is and can always be glorified regardless of the day, location, or circumstance.  I pray Kenney and I cling to that truth.  I pray we remember He loves us. 

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…

Pictures, Prayers, and Completly Sporadic

Literally minutes ago I received an email from our adoption agency with some updates on Isabell that I wanted to share.  Of course a new picture as well!

And so now, the reality of some things are really, really setting in.

Please pardon the complete randomness of this post, as I am doing it on a whim and totally just putting the thoughts in my head on this page.  I want to share this, and have something to go back and look at, so again, please understand the complete dis-organization!

Just looking at the picture and reading our updates we received, I realize we need so much prayer, so, so much prayer!  Isabell will be four on July 6th and doesn't walk at all yet.  I can see the way she is holding her body and arms in particular, and realize we have more than just clubbed hands and clubbed feet to deal with.  Her medical diagnosis she originally received may indeed be true (MOP/FOP).  If not that diagnosis then possibly some other "big" things to deal with.  We found out she doesn't speak either Cantonese or Mandarin, but a local dialect which is going to make us even learning a few words in advance nearly impossible.  She isn't potty trained.  Good news, she's not a picky eater they tell us though! She also weighs less than Noah (who thought that could be possible!) but is actually taller by nearly 3 inches than him!!!

Then, the biggy.... at least in my mind.  She has been, since found as a baby, in a foster home.  She has had the same foster mom and foster dad and one foster sister, who is the same age as her as well, and found as a baby too!  Oh does that hurt my heart tonight.  I watch my three kids play and realize how much they love each other, how important they are too each other.  I see so much improvement Noah has had because of Tommy and Audrey.  I see the way Audrey loves her brothers and loves playing with them.  I see how much they need each other and care for each other.  Just thinking about taking one of my children away from us, from the people they call mommy, daddy, sister, brother....I just cry.  I just break down and cry.  I can't think of any other response.

I am reminded that adoption is full of pain, suffering, and fear.  I am reminded that without sin, adoption would not exist.

I think of so many prayers I need right now.  Prayers for Isabell's health and what that is going to mean for our family.  Prayers for doctors, therapists, the right people at the right time is what we need.  Prayers for her healing.  I can not think of how she is going to feel towards us.  If you took me at age almost 4 from the people I love, the food, the language, the culture, the clothes, my toys, EVERYTHING.... and put me with a new family, culture, toys, food, language, well... I would probably hate you.  I know hate is a strong word, but I can't think of another that would be honest enough.

I know people like to "sugar-coat" these things, say it's all going to work out, say maybe it won't be that bad, maybe she'll just run to our arms and love us forever, but honestly, I do not feel God is preparing my heart for that.

the lines of a song have been in my head a couple days now, and I find them so fitting...

"I know I'm filled to be emptied again"

These words have been something I have been thinking about, and God has really been bringing to my attention daily.  This week alone, I've read four different posts on the subject, as well as heard two different radio programs.  (God has to sometimes kick me a bit it seems, before I get the point.) God has filled me up.  I manage my three kids great (most of the time).  This household for us, runs quite well, the daily routine, the schedule, the kids, Kenney, it's getting to be almost- dare I say- comfortable.  I like comfortable.  I like easy.  I like both a bit too much.  I find myself drawn towards comfort, drawn towards taking the easy way.  I have been reminded God didn't say the path was going to be easy for Christians.  I am reminded God didn't say it was going to be comfortable. 

What is coming up in the near future for our family is going to empty me.  I need God's grace and mercy.  I need to be weak so He can be strong.  I need to let go of my "comfortable" and "easy".  I need prayers.  I need to so desperately daily let go of myself.  I need to die to myself. 

Luke 9:23 And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.

I need to be reminded daily, what an important word for me. This isn't something, that I just learn and forget, and get to put a check mark on.  Every. Single. Day.  I need to die to myself.  I know I need this, I want so desperately to deny myself but, just like the apostle Paul says in Romans 7:15 For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. I realize so much I am a sinner.  I realize, that without Christ, I choose the easy way, the comfortable way.  I live for myself.  When Kenney said "who chooses this kind of thing" in his post, that is exactly what he was referring to.  As a sinner, he would NOT choose children with disabilities, children that cost too much, children a zillion miles away, as a sinner, he would choose the life that suited HIS needs best.  Oh, I praise God that He tells us that being crucified with Christ, the life we used to live according to the flesh, we can now live by faith in the Son of God, who loved us, and died for us.  I praise Him, that He lives in me, and daily I can die to myself, and live in Him.

Lastly, my heart carries such a burden for one particular little girl.  Isabell has a foster sister, who has many of the same special needs as she does, that has lived with her the entirety of both their lives.  They are not legally sisters, but by every other definition of what family and a sister is, she is that.  I do not have any answers on this one, only that she and I need prayer.  I knelt with Tommy tonight saying prayers, and over and over again, as on most nights, I find myself thinking about this little girl.  I do not know why this is on my heart, but I know God has a reason.  I covet prayers.  I feel my heart is so full of prayer requests, it really just might burst!

Isn't this little girl just the sweetest thing ever though?  She was created by my God, He knit her together in her mother's womb, He has a plan for her, He knows her heart, and loves her, and I will get to be a part of it all.  That is something to be so thankful for!

1 Samuel 16:7 ...For the LORD sees not as man sees:
 man looks on the outward appearance,
 but the LORD looks on the heart