Oh, those eyes!

Be still my heart.

She is BEAUTIFUL.

I'm staring at the picture of this little stranger who has captivated my heart and many of my thoughts.

I want to pinch her sweet cheeks. I want to cuddle her under my chin. I want to wipe tears away from those dark brown eyes.

Now, more than ever, my thoughts are consumed with what it's going to take to get her home--what hurdles do I need to leap over, what oceans do I need to cross, what doubts do I need to put aside--what will it take to bring her home?

To that end, we are more than thrilled that two days ago we received from our agency's lawyer in Lesotho legal paperwork--our official petition to the court to adopt our Sunshine. Tonight it will be notarized and tomorrow, Fed-exed back across the ocean for a legal action to take place sometime in April. The court will then issue a new birth certificate--and then we go get her. Holy Cow!

So, to get ready, we've been rearranging our house (more on that to come....), purchasing items that we need for a long trip to Africa with our family (Imodium ad, anyone?)

We've been so busy that I almost missed Easter--one of the most holy days of my faith, one of my most precious. There haven't been extra discussions on how Jesus came to die from my sins, how desperate and needy I am without him, how alone, wretched, and lost I am without his choosing to come to earth to rescue me.

There have been no crafty Pinterest craft-ivities, no in-depth conversations about how Christ spent each of the days of Holy Week, no homemade Easter dresses for the girls, no acting out washing each other's feet, definitely no bunny or egg crafts.

But that's okay, because I realized something a couple days ago. This entire week (and Lenten season) has been spent thinking on the act and gift and cost of the crucifixion and the hope of the resurrection. We're focusing all our efforts and pennies and efforts on bring home one precious child. With great JOY.

In a very small way, this echoes the story of Easter. Our act of running to rescue Sunshine is not unlike Christ's salvific work on the cross--because he loved me, us so much he completed the task set before him with Joy, because he knew it would bring us home, into the presence of the Father for all eternity.

This to me is beautiful and humbling and powerful--that I could be part of God's work here on earth, that I can extend his love to a new little person.

And now that I see her face and can stare into those eyes, even though I don't know her, every moment, insecurity, doubt, has been transformed into JOY!

From our house to yours, may your Easter weekend be filled with the humbling reminders of what it cost Christ to rescue from the squalor of your sin and Holy Spirit shivers when you are reminded of the grace given to you.

Blessings.

The Least of these

There are so many things I could write about right now. My brain is a jumble of thoughts, emotions, and to-dos. But this is what has been on my heart.

Lately, we've been loving the song Kings & Queens by Audio Adrenaline. The video is beautiful and if you haven't watched it and listened to the words, you need to. Right. Now.

Last night I was struck by something as I was singing through the lyrics in my head. They go like this:

Boys will be Kings,
Girls will be Queens,
wrapped in your majesty
When we love, when we love the least of these.

I have always been uncomfortable by people's assessment that children are "the least."  I've always loved the curiosity, life, love, enthusiasm, creativity, and passion I have seen in the actions of children. I love children, always have.

I love that Jesus called kids to himself. I smile just imagining what that time looked like: did Jesus tickle and hug and laugh with all of them? I think he did. Did he attend to each little boo-boo, no matter how small ? Did he smile widely as yet another child tried to climb into his overfilled lap? I believe so.

I know there are many very, very important people who think that children aren't worth their time, resources or money. And many suffer for it. There are children across the entire world who are neglected, hungry, scared, abused, used as pawns, and forgotten by their families, by their countries, by their churches, by Christians.

But, last night, I realized that my Sunshine, my dear precious girl, is not least. She has a heritage and a name, she has a history and a new family, she has a place in my heart. She is loved by her Creator God.  Her life was bought by Jesus Christ. She has a holy inheritance.

She has been embedded on our hearts, there are few moments when she is not on my thoughts.
She is not forgotten.
She is no longer "least."

A Complicated Dance

A friend of mine used those words to explain this part of adoption and I love the picture. Even now, in the waiting moments (curse you, waiting!) this adoption thing is dreadfully complicated, pitting so many of my emotions against each other that I am a mess. I want to be completely honest about this process because I think it is useful to the conversation.

Let me introduce her to you: Her name means Sunshine (so that is what I'll call her here). She lives in Lesotho, Africa. She will be four this summer.

I haven't yet seen a picture, but I can imagine her: dark skin, dark eyes, chubby cheeks, big smile. I'm already in love. A part of my heart is no longer in Michigan, but over 8,000 miles away.

There are some very real and unexpected emotions going through us right now. You should know.

First, Grief. I am so sad--for Sunshine and her birth mama. Abandonment is a universal truth in adoption. On paper, you know it's true. But seeing hand written words describing those circumstances, imagining how it hurt, it punches you in the gut and wants to rip your heart out. We grieve for Sunshine and her mama.

Anger. I am angry. I am angry at sin and a broken world and realities that make adoption necessary. I am angry at injustice and the fact that there are babies and toddlers and kids and teenagers who have grown up without a family. It is horribly ugly and unfair. It is the result of sin in the world and I lament.

Fear. There are two layers of this going on: One, hair. In American black culture, hair is a big deal. I can't even deal with my own girls' hair. Yeah, I know I shouldn't stress about this, but I do.
Second, I am scared to parent this little girl, to try to help her heal her hurts. Are we strong enough for the grieving of a young child? Because no matter how great an orphanage she comes from and how wonderful a family she enters into, there will be tremendous grief. I don't know if I am enough. I know I'm not enough. That's what Jesus is--but here on earth, I am his representative.

Excitement. Oh yeah. We are excited! We can't wait to meet her. We're talking about what dolls to buy and how to decorate rooms and what size clothes she'll wear. We're wondering what her personality will be like and how she'll fit into our family. We're thinking about traveling and meeting her and how to introduce her to this crazy crew. We are blessed, we are excited. If you ask, I'll probably talk your ear off.

Peace. This one is the weirdest to me and hard to explain. But Sunshine is being cared for at a fantastic orphanage. With people who truly love her. I go to bed at night in peace because I know she is being loved, fed, cared for. She has a strong attachment to her caregivers and they to her. While one would think this would make me anxious and jealous, I'm not. I feel incredible, soul-centering peace. In all my prayers for my child before I knew who she was, I prayed she was safe and loved, even if she was hungry. God answered that prayer in abundance putting her in the care of life-long friends. Just thinking about His goodness in this makes my eyes well up with tears.

Tired. I'm tired. These emotions are exhausting. Eric and I stay up late at night talking about Sunshine, our kids and us and what we know and how we feel. I fall asleep at night praying for her, dreaming about her, imagining her life now and what it will be. We still have a long journey ahead of us, lots of things to figure out and do, but the rest of life marches on with school and work and home.

It is interesting going through this dance, both the here and there, the now and the not yet.

So, there you have it. I told you it was complicated.

But it's a beautiful dance.

Nothing is impossible with God

How do I even begin this post?

So many thoughts, so few words

In the past 24 hours, we have (finally) learned how God plans to add to our family. We are thrilled to announce the addition of a little girl to this crazy family.  There have been many moments of tear-filled eyes, goose bumps, excited screams, and confirmation.

We are:
     Awe struck
     The recipent of such amazing grace
     Humbled
     Excited
     A bit scared
     Unworthy of such a beautiful gift

How do I put into words the feelings in my heart?
The inexplicable, unmeasurable, instantaneous love.

She's real, this child of my heart!

I have another Daughter. God, give us strength for the journey to come.

God has orchestrated a miracle beyond my comprehension. He saw my deepest desire, saw my brokenness, heard my heart and gave me a gift that I hardly deserve.

God, make me worthy to be her mother, to bind her wounds, to help her meet your Son and receive your grace.

There's so much left to know: a name, a birthdate, her history. We haven't even seen a picture yet. All those things will come in time.

For all the struggle to get to this moment, there are many more ahead. We want her home, now. We want to hold her in our arms and comfort her fears and dry her tears. We want to be a complete family, to laugh and play together. But those things are yet to come.

God, hold her, every moment of every day. Keep her safe in your arms until she can be in ours.

Right now we savor this milestone.

We are are so very blessed.


²³ 

The Lord has done this,

    and it is marvelous in our eyes.

²⁴ 

The Lord has done it this very day;

    let us rejoice today and be glad.

Psalm 118:23&24

Promises

For the past months, I have seen this progression in my own spirit. For the past few days, I have worked hard to say, "God has done it--and it is a beautiful thing!" But I have no idea what God has done yet. Truly, these are hard words to say....

But, we are trying to rest in the knowledge that this has been in God's hands all along. He has always had this journey, even up to this point.

And now, here we are, just a few days away from the meeting (on Wednesday the 20th, if you needed the reminder) that will, one way or another, determine the direction and look of this family. Although we have been waiting for a really long time, this is just the start of our "pregnancy". This meeting is our "ultrasound" where we see real little people for our family. We still have a long period of waiting before we get to hold them in our arms and bring them home.

I can't really tell you when we're going to know anything or when we'll be able to tell you. Actually, chances are good that by the time our day is officially rolling at our house, the meeting will be happening or over. But who knows when the news will reach us.

Today, God used the Sunday school lesson I taught to remind me. Together we learned again about how God keeps his promises: all of them, all the time. Even though the Israelites were scared about the Promised Land, they grumbled and complained about it, and they were punished for their grumbling, God still provided Manna every single day. His promises are good. His promises are true.

And this is my promise to you, faithful friend. We will let you know. At some point, you will share in our joy or our disappointment, as you have shared in our journey thus far. We just don't know when. Please be patient, if you think the waiting is killing you, think of what it's doing to us. And say an extra prayer. It could be a few days.

Already, we can say together:

Shouts of joy and victory

    resound in the tents of the righteous:

“The Lord’s right hand has done mighty things!

¹⁶ 

    The Lord’s right hand is lifted high;

    the Lord’s right hand has done mighty things!”

^17 . 

(Psalm 118:15-16)

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To remain encouraged...

Today, I hold on to this half of Psalm 118:

Give thanks to the Lords, for he is good;
      his love endures forever.
Let Israel say:
      "His love endures forever."
Let the house of Aaron say:
      "His love endures forever."
Let those who love him say:
     "His love endures forever."

In my anguish I cried to the Lord,
     and he answered by setting me free.
The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid.
     What can man do to me?
The Lord is with me; he is my helper.
     I will look in triumph on my enemies.

It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man.
It is better to take refuge in the Lord  than to trust in princes.
All the nations surrounded me,
     but in the name of the Lord I cut them off.
They surrounded me on every side,
     but in the name of the Lord I cut them off.
They swarmed around me like bees,
     but they died out as quickly as burning thorns;
     in the name of the Lord I cut them off.

I was pushed back and about to fall,
     but the Lord helped me.
The Lord is my strength and my song;
     he has become my salvation.


Today and this weekend, I choose to focus on the promise and the call. I choose to think about the lessons that I have already learned. I choose to remain encouraged in the midst of uncertainty. I will trust in the Lord who has become my salvation.

And to keep me encouraged, I want to share two videos that have encouraged me along the way. I may just watch these repeatedly this weekend.

Be encouraged!

(note: the videos didn't load like I wanted, instead click the following links:

Children of God by Third Day

Kings & Queens by Audio Adrenaline

Thanks!)

 

 

Parenting is hard.

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Parenting is hard.

Can I get an Amen?

Although there are pretty tough jobs out there, I'm thinking there is nothing harder than trying to parent well. If it's not one kid who is sassing you over every instruction, it's another kid who is willfully disobedient or not paying attention to you at all.

Yesterday was a hard parenting day.

I'm not gonna tell you how, but it was. Let's leave it at that. Someone ended up in their room before dinner ended and stayed there for the rest of the evening.

And then today, I glanced through this article and threw my hands up in the air.

It seems that there isn't much any person can do to parent well these days. No matter where I turn there is one expert or another telling me that what I know or do is wrong. But then turn around and a different expert is telling me that it's right. AHHHH!

And then there is the fact that regardless of how well I parent, how hard I work to overcome the inefficiencies in my own childhood, my kids will grow up with inefficiencies. There will be things about me that drive them nuts.  For as much as I work to teach them to make good choices, love & follow Jesus, eat good food, fill their minds with things that cause them to be creative and smart and informed, they may just choose:
to eat poorly and be unhealthy
to not care about cleanliness
to make bad choices
to be addicted to sex or drugs or alcohol or any number of negative things
to not follow Jesus (I pray not!)
and any number of things....

That is discouraging enough.

But honestly, as hard as parenting is, as real as the fight for my kid's hearts and souls are, there is nothing as frightening as a book about parenting an adopted child.

Seriously.

Two years ago(ish) when we started this journey, we were required to read a number of books on parenting, multicultural families, attachment and bonding, and adoption. We started with this workbook, which we did together. That was great. (Yea, we can talk about all these things--we've got this!) And then we went on to other reads. We started multicultural (yeah, we can do that, have you seen where we live?) to adoption (yeah, things can be tough, but we can do that) to attachment bonding (oh no, we can't do that, but that won't be us). We skimmed through them because we still thought we were awesome parents--our kids hadn't yet showed us the depth of their (and our own) brokenness.

In the two years since that time, I have become far more aware of my flaws and strengths. When you are more aware of such things, reading the one adoption book that has been widely recommended to us, The Connected Child, will totally freak you out.

Everything about parenting an adopted child who you are trying to attach to is different than the instinctive way we parent the kids we have now. Discipline, food, attaching, everything.

And after you have a bad day parenting, the idea of a new kid, whom you don't know, will totally freak you out. (Listen, I'm just keeping this real. Maybe you don't like my terminology or I'm not saying it quite right, but it's different. And sometimes different, all by itself, is just hard.)

If anything scares me right now, it's the idea of failing in parenting a child who has already lost so much. It's the idea that maybe we're wrong, maybe we aren't cut out for this. The needs and demands are sharp and the learning curve is steep. I don't think I'm up for it. The coward in me wants to walk away because of how hard I'm afraid it might be.

But I won't. 'Cause I know that regardless of the children in my home, parenting is just hard.

Lord Jesus, help us do this well.