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.

"If you want to change the world, pick up your pen."

It was Martin Luther who said it, and I pulled the phrase from a book I am reading.  And it rings true in a million tones for me.  Writing things down....there is something special, unique, almost magical in putting words on a piece of paper, especially our own words, thoughts and feelings.  Even my dad said it "if it ain't written it ain't real."

To put the words I feel on paper, almost breathes them to life.  Forever I can re-read them.  I can re-feel them.  The memory is not lost.  Each day that passes, I look at my house, my children, my life and I don't want to forget.  I don't want the moments to be wasted.  I don't want to grow up and not remember, not be able to share with others that I struggled too.  I want to remember the pain in labor.  I want to remember the sleepless nights, the fights with my husband, the days that hurt, the sunshine, the garden, my friends that come and go for different seasons, Audrey's silly words, and Caleb's sweet hugs. I want to be able to forever share those moments, all of them. They are all grace moments.  Divine blessings, because I believe God is all good, all the time,  These moments, all of them, are all grace.  Because my life is His, my story is really His too.

In one year, my words, far and few between as they may be, they are there for me to look at and remember.  And in one year, my world is changed. And His story written for me, is slowly put on paper.  I am thankful I picked up my pen.

Twilight

I wake up.

I am tired, and no amount of coffee helps.

I've been up, adjusting braces, comforting, trying to help an uncomfortable child.  I've been up, getting juice for another one, praying, staring at the ceiling, staring at the mess around me.

I need to schedule an appointment with the dentist.  But I have appointments with an ENT, a hand specialist, Physical Therapy, Occupational Therapy, the Orthopaedic Specialist, Speech Therapy.... who will watch the kids?  How will Kenney get home in time for all of that?  How can I possibly fit in the dentist?  But, Motrin isn't helping anymore.

And the worry starts to set in. 

I am hungry, but the kitchen hangs in a delicate balance of mess, one more thing out of place, one more thing not cleaned, just might cause pure disaster.  So, I opt for coffee- again.

With worry already in my heart, the thoughts start to spin.

I need to seed the areas in the yard that we had work done
The garden needs picking
I have paperwork to do
Bills to pay
The dust is so thick Tommy really did write his name on it
Bathrooms, disgusting
laundry
I need curriculum for Tommy
things to occupy the others while I work with Tommy
Projects not yet complete in my room
the basement
a shower
kids need baths
the dog needs a bath
what about a date with my husband
what about time to relax
time for friends

Someone stop me.... and I find my devotional and Bible and sit down to read.

The first words of the devotional

"Trust ME in the midst of a messy day."

The tears start to fall.

" Your Peace in MY presence need not be shaken by what is going on around you. Though you live in this temporal world, your innermost being is rooted and grounded in eternity."

"O LORD, you have searched me and you know me.  You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.  You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.  Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD. - Psalm 139:1-4"

The words of a song fill my heart, and I find myself sobbing.

The words:

Like the sky before the dawn

While the night is holding on

Sun and moon together in the gray

So my soul is shared by two

The worst of me and the best of you

Savior and sinner mingled in my veins

And I pray you’ll end this twilight


I’m torn inside my soul tonight

The dawning day and the dying night

 Oh rid my soul of twilight

Good I love, but evil’s done

Good intentions come undone

Good to know I know the one who saves me from myself

Oh Lord paint my heart a solid hue

The shade of you

Oh lord break this dreadful in between inside of me

Oh let it be morning

I know the sun is coming up, oh the sun is coming up, yes the sun is coming up

The kids are stirring, the dogs need to go out, the day needs to get started, and I have become the righteousness of God.

"God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. 2 Corinthians 5:21"

Jesus is mine. My list, my tiredness, my coffee addiction, sometimes- it just doesn't matter.  My sin is gone, and I will stand righteous before my Savior.

The sun IS coming up. 

I lost. Part 2 of 2

3:00 AM

I think since Audrey was born I have woke up every single day at three am.  I don't know why.  But strangely I have come to enjoy the time. (Obviously by making the previous statement I have confessed my insanity, and possibly might need to turn in my "normal" card.)

I pour a glass of water and usually stand at the back kitchen window and look outside.  It is always quiet. Everyone is sleeping. I find myself having conversations out loud.  I imagine that Jesus is standing next to me, or sitting in my favorite rocker, or sitting on the ledge of the island counter, dangling his feet and talking with me. (I know, I turned in my "normal" card a long time ago!)

The tune of a Frank Sinatra song is in my head.  "The Way You Look Tonight"  It was our wedding song.  I find myself smiling.

Some day, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold,
I will feel a glow just thinking of you
And the way you look tonight.
I remember picking the song and thinking that is exactly what I want.  I want to one day be able to look back and smile when I remember our wedding.

I am looking out my kitchen window smiling.  I start thinking about how much I love Kenney.  Which reminds me of my first love, Jesus. Which brings me back to my crappy day that I lost.

I think about things that one day, I will want to remember, and I will want to remember accurately.  As my dad says, "When we look back on things we tend to have revisionist history." (and that would be another dadism) We paint things a bit differently than they really were.  The only way to prevent that from happening is to write it down.  So, I write this story down to accurately remember.

Why remember?  I feel like one day someone, maybe my kids, my grandkids, someone, somewhere, will have a day like mine, and I will have the unique ability to share empathy.  I don't want to forget. So I write it down.

It was also important for me to write down yesterday exactly like yesterday was.  The day didn't get better, it didn't end good.  Why is that important?  Some days we loose.  Some days, my flesh takes over. Some days that little devil sitting on my shoulder, well, I befriend him.  I listen to his lies. 

I am still looking out the window and it's still dark, and I find myself going through the events of yesterday...with Jesus this time.

I realized no event in and of itself was bad or sinful. Not the person sharing about their life, not the kids spilling drinks, not the dishes in the sink, not the poop on the floor, the tick in the house, the kid running towards the street, even the little girl that says she hates me- NONE of those things were sin or sinful.

Why did those events bother me so much? Why did the day end in such a disaster? Why did I feel defeated? And if I am honest here, I will admit, days like yesterday, events like yesterday happen all the time in our house. I suck at laundry, since we were married and without any kids, I was always a couple days behind. I leave dishes in the sink all. the. time.  My kids spill something every day.  I live in the country in the woods and grass, we have ticks all the time. The annoying people are in my life, and always have been, and I talk to them all the time. The poop thing- for crying out loud, I have a kid that used to play with and eat his poop!

Then the thoughts come into my mind. It's crazy, like a giant hailstorm, thoughts, truth, God's truth hits me.

James 1:2-3 Consider it joy when you encounter trials, or fall into temptation. Be assured and understand that the trial and proving of your faith bring out endurance and patience.
Did I consider it joy?

John 10:4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice.  Did I hear His voice? Did I follow Him?

1 Corinthians 10:13 No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.  But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.  Did I take HIS way out, or did I listen to the whispers on my shoulder? God's word says he provided a way out for me... did I take it?

1 Thessalonians 5:18 In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Did I give thanks?

Habakkuk 3:17-19 Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vine, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights. Did I rejoice? Was I joyful? Regardless of my situation...

Proverbs 19:11 The discretion of a man makes him slow to anger, and his glory is to overlook a transgression. Was I slow to anger? When I didn't hear the words I wanted to hear, did I overlook it?

1 Corinthians 13:4 Love is patient, Love is kind... Was I patient? Was I kind to my kids, my husband?

Psalm 34:13 Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from telling lies. I hate you... have I used those words before?

And I could keep going.  I could keep finding scripture after scripture that I disobeyed.

That is the point.  I needed a day like yesterday.  I needed to be reminded of my sin.  In just three short weeks, my mind started slipping.  I started thinking how "I" was able to handle things.  How "I" was doing so good with my five kids. "I" was pretty good at getting into a routine.  "I" was getting good at managing a schedule.  "I" had it all figured out.  Heck, "I" even got a couple of projects accomplished.

Can you imagine God in heaven? I imagine He would have said "Really Laura?" "YOU think you've got it together???" "YOU think these last couple of weeks that haven't been so bad are because of YOU???" "YOU think you've got it together???"   HA!!!

3:30 AM

I am sitting on the floor. I feel sick. I am so full of sin. I was so quick to forget all of HIS blessings.  I was so quick to give in to Satan. I failed without HIM.  I am a sinner.  As the apostle Paul writes.. Oh wretched man that I am. Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? (Romans 7:24)

Isn't it appropriate it's Good Friday? How fitting... I am a sinner. Christ is a great Savior.  Every sin I have committed, every sin I will commit, with Christ, there is no condemnation.  I claim Jesus as my savior, and the gates of hell will not prevail. Today is a day to be reminded of my great sin. To be reminded I deserve hell.  I deserve a fiery punishment.  I deserve death.  But, my Jesus loves me, even in my sin! The cross proves that.  His grace flows freely.

My awareness of my constant need for Him, is my greatest strength. My inadequacy presents me with a continual choice - deep dependence on HIM, or despair.  The emptiness I felt can be filled with either problems, or HIS presence.

While a day like yesterday presents many problems.  Some practical advice can be rendered- like getting more sleep, finding someone to help with the dishes or laundry, eating healthier, exercise, etc etc, it just isn't the point, and it isn't what I needed most.  I needed my first love. I needed to be brought to my knees.  I needed to be reminded of my sin. 

Praise God, He knows what I need!!  I needed to loose.

I lost. Part 1 of 2

Crabby.

When I woke up this morning that's what I felt. Maybe it was a particularly rough night.  Maybe it was my headache, or maybe bad dreams.

Most days, I wake up crabby. I read my devotions, read some scripture, sometimes if the day is particularly irritating I listen to my favorite hymn CD. I drink my coffee and pray. I make an honest attempt to align my thoughts with HIS thoughts. I pray for guidance, for help, for strength. I pray that the day would belong to God. I remind myself that my life does not belong to me, to my flesh, but it is Christ who lives in me (Galatians 2:20.) I set my goal to worship HIM, make all my steps of the day with Christ. I remind myself all my goals and thoughts and itinerary mean nothing if I haven't spent the day with Christ.

Today, I did what I do every day, but yet, before the day had even begun, I felt defeated. It took me 21 days, but today was the day I felt lost and lonely.

Someone shared with me about their day. How "busy" they were, scheduling kids for practices and schools. Work was busy. They were running around all over, with all sorts of things to do. They shared how much planning and keeping on top of everything was so important. That's what they had to worry about. Me- the words pricked me a bit. My worries were so different. I find myself thinking about the kids we "left behind."  I think about my friend who is a single daddy and doesn't know Christ. I "worry" about the struggling relationships of friends. I ache for the girl who lives for this world because I was there, and it got me no where. I wish I could make my daughter walk.  I wish my son didn't have such behavior problems. My problems, were nothing like theirs, and the words pricked me. Like the cartoons, a little devil sat on my shoulder and whispered "doesn't that irritate you?"

Bella (my dog) for the millionth time rolled in goose poop. I had to stop what I was doing, and give her a bath. Another prick.

I knew I was falling fast, so I called Kenney, to only remember he would be in meetings all day. The little devil on my shoulder again whispered "doesn't it bother you he isn't there when you need him?" Pricked.

Breakfast came as it always does.  Caleb won't chew any fruit. Audrey spills something on Isabell. Someone needs help eating, someone needs a reminder to chew, someone won't stay seated. I heard the whispers again..."it just isn't fair my kids require so much from me."

My headache won't go away, and is close to migraine status.

Someone stops by. I watch Isabell sing and laugh and use full sentences (still in Mandarin of course) that she wants to be picked up. That little devil on my shoulder whispers again "don't you wish she said those words to you and smiled like that ?"

We are all outside. I am holding Isabell and trying to allow her to do something other than just sit and watch all the kids run around and ride their bikes. I am not focused.  My mind is wandering. Tommy starts screaming something about Caleb. I notice he is running towards the street. I yell and he stops to look at me, and laughs.  I have to full blown out sprint to get him out of the street. The whispers "how dare he not listen!" "why doesn't he know better!"

Maybe things will be better after lunch and naps. We come inside and the dishes are still in the sink from last nights dinner, and this mornings breakfast. I feel weary and unaccomplished.

Noah starts screaming about a bug. I realize the bug is a tick. I forget it's tick season and everyone needs to be checked. I go to pull the tick off of Noah and he decides its funny to squirm and kick and act like a baby. The tick is gone, and now I know we have a tick "loose"in the house. I yelled at Noah. I yelled at all the kids.

Audrey spills her apple juice all over herself. We go to find a new pair of pants, and upon opening her drawer I realize there are no clean pants. I realize there are at least 6 loads of laundry waiting for me, and that doesn't count the sheets that desperately need to be changed, and in our book, desperate means full of dog and cat hair, and they stink!  Somehow this is Audrey and Isabell's fault that there is no clean laundry. I made it quite obvious to all the kids I was not happy. I am feeling angry. I am feeling pricked by a million needles at this point.

I remember I have a doctors appointment in the morning and I need to bring both urine and stool samples from Isabell and Caleb with. I get Caleb to poop in some silly contraption that didn't fit right on the toilet to begin with. I notice his pee is now running down the side of the toilet, is all over his legs, and on the floor, all because the contraption didn't fit right. I need to now clean and disinfect the bathroom. Why can't he poop and pee without making a mess?

While sitting on the floor trying to scoop the poop into tiny containers and trying to keep from throwing up, Tommy comes in, which brings every other member of the family too.  A container spills. Anger doesn't describe my reaction in the least. Kids are crying, I am yelling, dogs are barking, the situation is out of control.

We put a movie in and all sit down. I desperately wish Kenney were home to take over.

I sit down next to Isabell and she closes her eyes and does her usual grunting sound to let me know she is unhappy with me sitting next to her. She is grunting that she wants something, and I tell her to use her words, in Chinese, in English, I don't care, just use words. I am frustrated. She talks to everyone except me. It's quiet for awhile as she stares at me in a silent war, letting me know she is not going to talk.

"Wo hen ni."

Those are the words she chose to use.

"I hate you."

I ask her what she said, because I must be mistaken.

"Wo hen ni."

I wasn't mistaken. She's said the words before. Today they cut. They cut deep, they were salt in wounds. They were worse than salt in wounds. The words created a new, fresh, open, bleeding wound. I told her not to use potty words.  I went into the bathroom and cried. 

Kenney came home. Dinner time was a mess. Noah didn't want to eat. The house was still un-done. I still didn't have samples from Isabell. The clock displayed the time.  8:00. The kids were not in pajamas. No teeth brushed. No vitamins. No beds ready. My head was pounding. My eyes were burning from tears. Kenney didn't say the words I wanted him to say. Nothing was good. Nothing was right. The whispers from the day won. The entire day's events came crashing down on me. I was crushed. Defeated. Burnt out. I lost.

I went to bed. The kids were still up. Nothing was done.

I cried. I sobbed. I cried so hard I couldn't breath. I didn't have any words. I clutched my pillow and cursed the day.

Tommy came in the room. He was crying too. I cried even more, knowing it was my crying that brought him in here. He brought me his spare blankie. He laid down next to me and said the words I needed to hear.

"Mommy, I know what will calm you down...I prayed for you."

I held him and told him I was sorry for sinning. I was sorry I didn't act like the mommy God wanted me to be. I was sorry I let my bad day ruin his day. 

"Mommy, it's okay, I don't always listen to God either. But, I forgive you."

Psalm 30:5
For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning.

Those were the words that came to mind. I remember Kenney kissing me goodnight.  I fell asleep. Tomorrow is a new day.

this post was written in real time, but posted a couple days later... there is a second part to this story, the important part...so don't worry.  I felt it important to write down what I felt, and what one particular day was like for me.  This is just one side to the whole story though, and it's the other side that makes all the difference.

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.

 

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…

What I learned from Noah

Hebrews 13:5  Never will I leave you, Never will I forsake you.

To my Noah,

You and me, we are a lot a like. We butt heads though. The love I have for you is a tough love, a love that isn't always evident or obvious. Sometimes, I don't do a very good job of showing you my love. Sometimes I fail you as a mommy.  But I want you to know that I love you because Jesus loves me, and loves you. He loved us first. His love for us was not because we loved Him. And so Noah, my love for you is not because of something you do, or because of your love for me.  I love you first, with, or without your love back. I love you.

We are sitting in your room today and I am asking you why you won't eat your now third meal of the day. It's so frustrating. We even had your favorite, dare I say it... chicken nuggets... for dinner, and yet you still refuse to eat. I know you are hungry. I know you are mad about something. I know you need to tell me, to use your words and share with me why it is you are angry. But you won't. You scowl, and throw a fit and have a meltdown, for now the third meal of the day.

Thoughts now run through my mind.  We've given you new clothes to wear. We've given you toys all of your own. You've gotten treats and meals and had a full tummy every day in our home. We tell you we love you, we tuck you in and hug and kiss you every night. We tell you every single day we will never leave you. We tell you and show you that you can trust us. We've met your needs. I expected you would soak up my love like a thirsty sponge.  And yet, you break your toys and could care less about them. You refuse to eat, you sometimes try hiding food in your mouth or not chewing or over stuffing your mouth and choking. You have been insatiably selfish, you always want more, nothing is ever enough for you. At night when you are scared and I hold you and tell you there is nothing to be afraid of, you still are afraid. You stiffen up like a board and do not find comfort in my arms.

Almost three years we've spent together and I find myself angry. I want so desperately for you to find comfort in your mommy. I want you to be happy and trust me. Trust me. And there I am sitting staring at you in your room. I have no idea how to proceed. I am fighting feelings of anger, and frustration. I find myself desperately praying for help. 

But our God, He is so merciful and so gracious.  His love for us, for me, is nothing short of amazing. Grace. I prayed for help. God gave me grace.

Grace. What a gift. There is no better a gift than grace. 

All the garbage in my life started circling in my head. 

I am God's adopted child. He has adopted me as His own. Given me a new life, clothed me in His righteousness. He has made me a co-heir with Jesus. I have an inheritance that is un-destroyable. He has blessed me. And yet, even today, I have asked for more. I have been given a warm and cozy home, and I treat it like it's not enough. I ask for more. I complain that I don't have enough, over and over again. I cry out in fear and God is there all-knowing my future, and I turn away. I do not seek Him for my comfort. I try and do it on my own. I rely on others, on myself, I do not hand it over to Him. God longs to be intimate with me, to show me the fullness of His presence, His freedom, His hope. I turn away. He promises He will never leave or forsake me, and I can be overcome with fear.  Without the Holy Spirit, I would continue to live my live as an orphan. I say I am His child, and daily I turn away from His banquet table and eat scraps. 

Noah, there is only one hope for us. Our God is a faultless father.  He knew us before the foundation of the earth. He was there when we breathed our first breath. He knit us together in our mother's wombs. He knows our thoughts, our fears. He knows exactly how to help us. He does not grow tired, or lose His temper. He loves us so much. He lovingly restores, forgives, and sanctifies us, all with a greater patience than we can imagine.

I am so thankful Noah, that I have you. God has given me a gift.  He has allowed you to show me how much I need Him. Without you Noah, I forget that I am just like you. You have humbled me, crushed some of my pride. I need so much refining and without you, I would have been content without change, and now I see how much my heart needs change, needs to be more and more like Christ. Without you, I would have been stuck. I am so happy that God loves me enough to change me and grow me. I am so thankful that you have given me a real and intimate picture of myself. God gives us what we need. I needed you, and am thankful for that.

I love you,
Love Mommy

Exactly Three Years Ago

I have no idea what prompted us. I can not remember what I was doing or where I was. Our son Tommy was a little over a year old. I babysat my niece Corrine during the week.



Yes, Tommy is holding a bra...don't ask...



Tommy only woke up a couple of times during the night. I had planted my first "real" garden that summer. My life was starting to become less crazy (anyone who knows us, knows my little Tommy was not the easiest baby... he would rank in top five of worst babies ever!!!) I do not remember doing internet searches. I do not remember really anything about the exact beginning. I do know that we filled out a contract with European Adoption Agency in July of 2008. That is where it began.

Before Kenney and I were married, I had mentioned something about adopting one day, just because it seemed like a good thing to do. Kenney said okay, and the conversation was over.

We just assumed that when we were "all done" having biological kids, we would then adopt.  I remember one day asking Kenney what he thought about adopting now.
Little did I know that God was speaking to our hearts and we didn't even realize it. We didn't know that God already had a little boy planned for our family. We didn't know he already existed. We didn't realize that God had a plan, a plan a bit different than ours.

Kenney likes plans. Kenney is a planner. He keeps plans. He makes plans. One thing he doesn't like to do is CHANGE plans. I remember him asking me why I wanted to change our plan. I remember telling him, that it isn't good to be so set on our own plans, and maybe God had a different plan. I know a couple weeks went by, and during that time I lovingly, okay maybe that is not true, I guess I just pushed the "adopt now" idea. (I recomend the lovingly way though, it works better!) One day Kenney just agreed.

Kenney researched adoption agencies and we talked about what kind of adoption, and where we would adopt from. Adopting a baby seemed logical because we were used to having two babies around. Russia just seemed to be the place God put on our hearts. The ratio of boys to girls in Russia was 7 to 1, so a boy seemed logical. The idea of children in orphanages bothered us, and we felt that is where God was sending us.

We just jumped in. I know we did not really talk about adopting with anyone else. We did our homestudy, initial paperwork, completed a dossier, all while keeping it between us. It was special for us. God used that time to bring us closer. We talked about all kinds of things together, that maybe if the world knew, we would not have talked about. We just might have been consumed with everyone else and their questions and thoughts, that we just might not have had the opportunity to talk between us. We talked about poverty, Russia, birth control, abortion, orphanages, foster care, orphans all over the world and much, much more. We had real conversations about big important issues, and it was between us. It was special. I do not recommend NOT talking about things to others, but for us, it was special, it was something that was just ours and no one elses. It was God's plan for US.

There was no scripture verse or sermon at church that promoted us to adopt. We got pregnant with Tommy before actually "trying". We had no fertility concerns. I had not had a miscarriage (which I did have one in September of that year, however our decision to adopt had been made long before the miscarriage occurred.) Our God can choose to motivate us however He wants. We were and are no one extraordinary. We weren't "super christians." We didn't lead a bible study, or volunteer every week at the food pantry. We had arguments and fights between us. We didn't parent Tommy perfectly. My point is this, sometimes, you just hear God speaking to you. Sometimes it is in no special place, at no special time. It's just when God wants to speak to you.  Our plan was not to adopt till years later, we would have never come up with adopting at that moment in time on our own.

Kenney and I agreed on one thing though.  That when God speaks.... you listen. 

Proverbs 3:5-7 
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil.

1Samuel 12:14-15

If you will fear the Lord and serve him and obey his voice and not rebel against the commandment of the Lord, and if both you and the king who reigns over you will follow the Lord your God, it will be well. But if you will not obey the voice of the Lord, but rebel against the commandment of the Lord, then the hand of the Lord will be against you and your king.

If It Ain't Written It Ain't Real

Okay, starting the title with a Dad-ism (that would be number 2.)

I was in my garden this evening. I find I think a lot in my garden. Yes, about gardening, like how to get the Asian beetles to leave my basil alone, and why the perfect tomato staking system really hasn't been invented yet. But, I also find myself thinking about lots of "God" things.  


I told my dad I was starting a blog/journal. I got the ever skeptical - why?? Which I feel I have previously answered at the start of my journal. But, to tell our stories we do not have to write a book, or a blog, or have any form of "social media". Our stories can be told by others and in the daily living of our lives. They can be told through friendships and relationships, and our stories can be our own until God uses them himself.


Why write?


Well Dad. "if it ain't written it ain't real!"


When I write things down I remember them. I ponder the things I write down. I find I don't have time to write down all the little annoying things about my life. Wiping snotty noses, potty training, pulling weeds, bad traffic, no milk in the house, the leaky basement, the laundry I didn't do, the guy that is supposed to have been done painting the barn a week ago, the really high NIPSCO bill...I think you get the point. All these little things, they drive me NUTS. It's those things that I find I focus on way too much. I get hung up on my bad day. But, when at the end of they day I sit down to write, I realize an entire day's worth of writing about the dumb things, are just plain-dumb!


I want to make a conscience effort to be grateful for the zillion gifts I have been given. I want my thankfulness to be a fruit in my life. I want my actions to reflect the thankfulness of my heart. If I spend time writing down the good things in my life, the important things in my life, the things that are growing me for His kingdom - I remember them!! I can look back and reference them. I can have a better and accurate view of the past. Sometimes, its easy to make things out to be worse than they really are. It's easy to forget the good things. I was thankful this morning because I drank a double tall vanilla latte from Starbucks. I was thankful today because we found a huge box of snakes (the firework kind) that Tommy loves, for super cheap! I was thankful today because we completed our fingerprinting for homeland security. I was also irritated, frustrated, inpatient, rude, etc, about things today. If I dwell on the things that are annoying then I find I am just more annoyed, but if I dwell on the good things, the gifts that God has given me EVERY SINGLE DAY, I am just a happier person.   


I will be able to look back at my life and see where I was. I can look back and contemplate where I need to grow and how I need to change. It is a way for me to think out loud and remember. I want to live intentionally, and writing is intentional.


I was thinking about being intentional, and thought about "setting our minds" to do something. I love a good concordance and looked up "setting your mind" - Colossians 3 popped up.


some excerpts...

Colossians 3:1-2
If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. 


3:5-9
Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: ...  anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth.


3:12-17
Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.


Journaling is a way for me to keep my mind on things that are above. Writing it all down, is a way for me to put to death what is earthly in me. Writing is a way for me to be thankful, have a thankful heart to God, and to give thanks to Him.

Today is Today

My mind is swirling with literally thousands of thoughts. Do I start my story with our adoption of Noah? Do I start before we adopted? Do I describe the process? The paperwork? The time? The details? Or do I write about adoption in general, about how God cares so deeply for the 147 million estimated orphans in the world? Do I write about our life after bringing home Noah?  Do I write about what a typical day looks like to us? Do I write about RAD? Do I write about therapy and behavior after adopting? Do I write about God adopting ME, adopting YOU as HIS own CHILDREN? Do I write about why we are adopting now? Write about China? Write about special needs? I really could go on and on. Where do I start? Do other people who write have these crazy thoughts?

Well a quote my dad once told me (which you will soon find I have LOTS of quotes my dad once told me) is, "sometimes, you just are where you are." On a side note, I tell my dad one day I am going to write a book with all the quotes I remember him telling us. So, Dad, that is quote number one (not in level of importance though, just the first one I am referencing.)

Where are we today? That is the question I think I'll start with and work my way backwards.

Today, we have pre-approval to adopt a little girl born in July of 2008 from China. She can not walk, because she just recently finally had surgery to correct her clubbed feet. She has clubbed hands, and has a possible diagnosis of MOP/FOP. The readers digest version of MOP or FOP is over time, based on injury, falling, surgery, or just plain old time, her muscle ossifies, or turns to bone.

We also are waiting on pre-approval to adopt a little boy from China. He was born in February of 2010. He is diagnosed as deaf, and a little bit behind. He can walk and run and play. We just submitted the initial paperwork to the CCCWA to give us the pre-approval for him.

We have all our documents for our dossier complete. We have them all notarized. We have most of them certified at the state level, however, Indiana made a couple of mistakes, so we are waiting on some corrections on that. Once we receive that all back we will submit all of this paperwork to the Chinese Consulate in Chicago. They can then approve all of the documents and send them back to us. In the mean time, we will wait for our I-800A approval (which is approval from homeland security to adopt.) Once we receive the documents from the Consulate and the I-800A approval all back, we'll submit our "official" dossier to our agency to forward on to China. We'll then wait for China's approval of the dossier.  That usually takes 3-6 months.  Once we receive the "official" approval, we'll get visas and a bunch of other paperwork stuff. We'll send that all in, and wait for approval to travel (usually another 4-12 weeks.)  Our best guess of when we will be bringing our babies home is February of 2012. We'll then travel to go get our wonderful, beautiful, created in God's image, children- whom God specifically wanted us to parent!