These Little Lives

How to Adopt

2012-01-31T10:50:00.000-08:00

This weekend I was at the legendary

Annual Conference that Changed Everything for Me

(other wise known as "Created for Care").

It. Was. Amazing.

Again.

Seriously.

There were whispers from the Lord, powereful moments in worship of Him,

and communion with other women who sing my song

and I basically floated home.

It was Christmas, my Birthday, and Cinco de Mayo all rolled up into one

giant sleepover weekend at a lodge with 432 other adoptive Mama's.

Incredible.

The most fun was diving deeper into relationship with other Ugandan

adoptive and prospective-adoptive Mama's.

While I lounged in easy frienships which are based on being a part of Jesus' Body with others who

also love the same trademarks and language and children of a country,

I also met women who were at "Step 1" of their walk to Uganda.

There was the normal interrogation.

And those are precious moments,

the introducing of my family's adoption journey

to a woman whose eyes are searching my face for a shimmer of her future child

as I speak.
Looking for hope.
Looking for anything.

It is a holy and tender thing and I don't take it lightly.

I found myself quietly trembling from the truth of carefully-chosen words

which flowed like a faucet

from an unknown place of deep conviction.

Here is what I shared...

1. What is in your heart is there for a reason. Trust it. Start walking.

2. Fight for your child. Don't give up. Period.

3. If you are a Believer in Jesus, gather around you people who have like convictions

to fight with you relentlessly. Don't wink at ethics thinking this is an exception to your faith.

This walk IS your faith.

4. Walk your own journey. Don't compare. Period. It's your own fault if you are miserable as a result.

5. Lower your expectations. At every turn. Before, in country and afterward.

You'll likely be pleasantly surprised if you do this.

6. You cannot over-prepare. Only what's drilled will remain in your memory in the midst of a stressful, exhausting, language-barriered experience.

7. Thank Jesus at all times. Even when you are sad. Even when you are stopped. Even when you are crushed - ESPECIALLY when you are crushed.

It's not only commanded but it unties God's hands.

8. Don't give up.

9. Don't give up.

10. Don't give up.

...there may be more and I reserve the right to add to this list...

but for now, these things are at the door of my heart,

and apparently pretty readily available to tumble off my tongue.

I am not an expert, by the way...still learning.

Two Lost Days

2012-01-14T18:08:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time there was a woman.

She was pregnant and she carried her baby heroically, while languishing...

and then she died.

She named the baby Mariam Namulinde.

Beloved.

Bitter.

Awaited.

The baby was tiny.

And weak.

The woman had died a tragic and contagious death

and everyone wondered if her baby was doomed.

Nearby, the baby's grandmother - the baby's only kin - was sick, too...

and then she died, too.

Mariam Namulinde was alone

in the world.

The 34 day-old whimpering, starving baby

was fading

and

alone.

The baby cried for two days.

She was noisy and insistent as she demanded the world take note of her survival.

The people nearby,

tired of trying to ignoring the mewling they had assumed would end by now...

scooped her up,

incised the house fly which had buried itself under her scalp while she laid for

two lost days

hungry and angry on her back

soiled and drenched in a filthy tablecloth,

and conveyed her to the Authorities.

The Authorities found more Authorites.

And eventually those Authorities found some Americans.

And those Americans found us: some random Parents.

And we found the baby,

Mariam Namulinde

and named her

Amaris and Namulinde

and brought her home

and loved her

and fed her

and kissed her

and watched her heal

and promised her she need never be alone again

ever

ever.

But

the two lost days are lost forever.

Gone.

There is no replacing the two days.

And there is no replacing the mother who died.

Replacing is only putting something new in the place of something old.

It is just another placing.

I don't want to see the two lost days replaced.

I want to see them Redeemed.

REDEEMED is to

free

release

repair

fulfill

retrieve

atone

The two lost days can never be replaced.

What they CAN be is

redeemed.

..."you have been redeemed at infinite cost" ~ 1 Corinthians 6:20

Happy New Year's 2012

2012-01-03T17:37:00.000-08:00

Best of 2011

2012-01-02T03:55:00.000-08:00

2011 has been a landmark year.

A huge, huge, HUGE year.

My kids, you have each grown at least 2 inches.

You consume massive amounts of food collectively.

You've been healthy for another year,

learned the US States & Capitals,

Ugandan facts,

and how to make room in your hearts.

Luke, you became a Soccer Star.

Graham, you became a Reader.

Ethan, you became a Big Brother.

Rissa, you became Ours.

Andrew, you have become Even Braver -
You are a man to be followed.

...And me ?

I have learned how to Hope.

How to dream bigger.

How to wait better.

How to just keep walking.

I have witnessed wonders.

Since January 1, 2010

these little lives has had over

19,288 visitors.

Woah.

The most-read post was by far:

"It's Not Rescue"

with 322 page-views

followed by #2:

"Hope"

with 233 page-views.

NEITHER of these were about our family's personal adoption

of our daughter.

Huh.

Interesting.

Whaddya know.

People all over the world have read these thoughts

and watched these little lives, apparently.

I squeeze my eyes shut

and breathe a prayer of awe.

I feel overwhelmed.

And I can only reply:

"I want you to know...that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel" ~ Philippians 1:12

Noonday Collection GIVEAWAY

2011-12-29T10:47:00.000-08:00

I Luv Uganda.

(Shocking, I know.)

So does my friend, Lori.

Lori is biological Mama of 3 kids with her loyal hubby, Sean.

Plus she fosters.

Plus she is awaiting news of a child to adopt from Uganda.

Plus she is a Noonday Collection Ambassador

which means she helps raise money for women's industries in Africa

by selling some BEAUTIFUL, covet-worthy stuff made there.

Lori is the best kind of nutty there is, if you ask me:

flat-out-sold-out serving others in Jesus' name.

Lori has oferred to give ONE of my blog readers a

$50

gift certificate for checking out the

gorgeous

jewlery, accessories, sandals, and home decor

and leaving a comment here on my blog.

Simple!

{My FIRST ever blog giveaway...I'm kind of in love with it all. *sigh*}

Here are some of my favorites, just to whet your appetite...

Winner announced January 1!

HAPPY NEW YEAR y'all!

A Realization of Dreams

2011-12-25T17:37:00.000-08:00

"...tears stream down my cheeks as I read (Isaiah 60) today.

All I can think is maybe this time next year maybe Rissa will be home.

It seems too wonderful to hope for

but it is my dream.

O, that God would hasten you home

where you belong.

I love you,

Mommy."

- from my journal, December 21, 2010

"I miss you so incredibly much...

it's almost enough to choke me.

I feel so acutely that you should be here -

eating bits of honeycake and crawling around with new blocks & a babydoll...

my deepest prayer - the one I am afraid to trust the Lord with because it seems barely plausible -

- almost impossible -

is for you, Rissa to be home by Christmas next year.

Now, I accept that just may not actually happen.

I do.

But it's my desire, still.

God - please allow me to trust You.

Please give me the grace to ask of You in faith.

Please show my Your goodness by meeting my needs the way You see fit.

The Truth here is that I need more of YOU.

Help me want more of You, God...

Merry Christmas, my daughters.

All the love in my heart is yours,

Mommy."

- from my journal, Christmas morning December 25, 2010

Hope

2011-12-19T06:38:00.000-08:00

On Thursday night, December 15 a spectacular thing happened.

Hope came home.

As a mama of a Ugandan babe, this is of course exciting.

Our entire Florida-Ugandan Family congregate at the airport EVERY time

a new family steps off the tram in our international airport

with a Ugandan child -

formerly an orphan,

now a closely-held,

wide-eyed and overwhelmed,

dearly-beloved son or daughter.

It's tradition!

We whoop

we holler

we bring balloons and signs and cameras

We make a ~~loud~~ huge deal.

By Wednsday there were 13 Ugandan children who have stepped off this

tram and into our community of love.

On Thursday, though....

that number became 14.

Our Hope came home on Thursday.

Back on August 11, my friend Janna and I were having a normal playdate at her house.

We'd been separated much of the summer with one family travelling (them)

and one family cocooning (us).

Our kids play well together and love doing so.

Janna had her 3 kids - I had my 4.

We talked for about 4 hours while LEGO's and cars and babydolls were thrown about.

We ate salads

The kids had sandwiches and snacks.

It was all very normal.

It was nice.

Familiar.

And then something sincerely supernatural happened.

God spoke up.

Janna mentioned that she and her husband were ready to begin the adoption process again

but

wanted the Lord to be clear.

Wanted to adopt from somewhere they felt a signifigant connection to.

They didn't want to just choose out of the blue.

And they wanted to adopt a sister for their youngest, a girl among 2 older brothers.

*This? Completely flew by me.

I was all: "Oh! Cool!"

And that. was. all.

(God must have been shaking His head at me.)

20 minutes later...

I "randomly" mentioned I was praying these last 2 weeks for a little girl.

"Do people ever tell you about orphans and ask you to pray for them?",

I asked Janna,

since I know and respect her greatly.

"What are you talking about?", she asked.

"No. No one's ever done that to me.", she added.

I told Janna that this little girl lived in an orphanage and was recovering from malaria.

I told her we were unsure of her age but thought her about age 1-1/2 years old.

And I told her we were unsure about anything else about her

including:

her status

her limitations

her health

her background

her adoptability

and

her availability.

Then I told Janna her name....Hope.

And with that one word I watched Hope be born in her mother's eyes.

I watched Janna's face lift and lightbulbs click on.

I watched confusion cloud her eyes and then - clarity settle.

And I heard her say to me:

"So.

That's our name.

For our daughter I have started praying for.

Hope."

She said it like a question, almost

like she was asking permission to tell me Something Big.

I was floored.

It was my turn to be confused.

Slowly the wheels in my head started turning

and I knew I needed to head out,

wrangle my kids home,

and make some phone calls.

When I got home 10 minutes later

there was a message on my voicemail.

Janna had called her husband, Scott.

She told him the precious little she had heard about Hope.

He said: "Well. Let's go get her."

The voicemail I arrived home to that day,

only 10 minutes after leaving her house

spoke these words to my stunned ears:

"Esty, I have talked to Scott.

And we want to do everything possible we can do to Lord-willing

bring Hope home to be part of our family forever."

That was all they needed.

An invitation from the Lord.

And they raced to their daughter and never looked back.

Now, it was not all over after that.

After that came the most mountainous trek of faith I have ever witnessed.

After August 11 came a race against the clock

and a challenge of hope such as I have only been a part of 1 other time.

And that was with my Rissa.

But this?

This was different...

because I was the witness, not the parent.

But I was allowed to be party to miracle after miracle.

For Hope.

For Janna and Scott.

For me.

This little life has seen something extraordinary.

Hope came home.

And here's what it's done to me:

Hope coming home makes me unafraid.

I can't explain it

but after watching it all

up close

every step

one miracle at a time

I can testify this truly:

"...and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."

~Romans 5:5

Two

2011-12-18T08:22:00.000-08:00

I know there is Another Daughter.

I have always known.

And I have written to her here

as well as in a journal

I keep with my Bible

here at home

in which I have always written to her sister, Rissa, too.

I have always known there would be Two.

I have always seen them together.

I don't know if this is because they will

look alike

be alike

be close in age

or whatever

but

I know there are Two.

I have always known.

One of them is home.

One of them is not.

Yet.

this is not an announcement.

it is just fact.

documented here as a record

for her so she will always know:

there have always been

Two.

Holiday Greeting from our family 2011

2011-12-09T09:10:00.000-08:00

2011-12-07T19:58:00.000-08:00

I am pulling together this year's blog into a book again, for my children to read.

Well...for them to read in The Future, anyhow.

For me

this blog

has always been about leaving a trail for them

for explaining

these little lives.

As I gather the threads and loop all the stories of this year into

one long-spun, lumpy ball of yarn

I wonder to God:

"Where are we going Next?"

You'd think I'd be satisfied.

You'd think I'd be exhausted.

You'd maybe think you'd like to roll your eyes at me.

And I'd maybe like to do that as well.

Lately I have felt quieted. And that's immensely unlike me.

I don't even really mean verbally quiet - more like

mentally idling...

a car parked with a running motor...

I have found myself

paralyzed.

For this year

this

little life

I live

was a big year.

2011's story was the climax in an 8-point story arc.

It was NEWS.

We ADOPTED our baby. Everyone tuned in and got stoked!

It was AWESOMELY exciting and I mean for no one more than for Andrew and I.

And it still is.

And we have continued to see some incredibly miraculously powerful things happen...

things I will write down before this year is ended...

we have been privy to so many MIRACLES...

we have stood in the direct oncoming traffic of God's grace...

we have NEEDED Him...

we have been changed...

we have been scarred by Africa...

and we have been left totally off-kilter.

A best friend said it pointedly if not passive-aggressively recently:

"You're so 'activist' now."

I guess I maybe am.

Most of this year's Christmas gifts are Free Trade Approved

meaning no one was harmed to produce what makes us "merry and bright".

Good grief, I never thought of that before! I never even gave it a moment's notice!

I am off-kilter.

I feel paralyzed.

I feel unsure how to step off the speeding train we have been on

hesitant to take a

single

step

away

from this journey because it has been a paradigm-shifting event.

It's like being at a rock concert for an evening

and trying to hear a whisper afterward.

I am straining to hear

but as one friend smirked at me the other day,

I have aparently become a "miracle junkie"

accustomed to seeing something stunning happen

so I

have become afraid to

blink

so as not to miss it happening again.

It's a problem.

And I am walking through it.

I find myself asking the Lord:

"What's Next?"

Because I know that I counsel others:

"You can't mess up God's plan"

and

"Just keep walking"

but somehow

I am afraid I can mess up God's plan

{as if I were that talented}

or I am afraid to take a solitary step in any one direction

{as if I could ever escape God.}

I know.

It's ludicrous.

But it's where I am.

I have been sinking cozily into Jesus Calling still,

comforted by it's daily insistence that I am

loved

safe

cherished

approved.

It is insulating me for what's Next.

Whatever that is.

The Holiday Tour of TN by the numbers

2011-12-05T08:48:00.000-08:00

Miles travelled in "Summer" (our trusty Toyota Sienna) in one week: 1,546

Hours of travel in van: about 26

Hours we made it without a DVD player on board: roughly 16

Amount spent on a "Phillips" brnd 2- screen portable DVD player from random Best Buy in Georgia: $100

Season of "The Muppet Show" bought for DVD watching: Season 2 (was a big hit, by the way)

Homes who hosted us: 5

Kids who got ill with strep throat: 2 (Ethan and Graham)

Length of time waiting to be diagnosed/get amoxicillin: approx 3 total

Lengthy, out-of-character naps taken by Ethan on his sickest day: 3

Trip to South Tunnel, birthplace of Margaret "Nina" Taylor Johnson (Andrew's grandmother in Heaven now) : 1

Tunnels we braved to find while walking the train tracks: 1

Uncles who braved the black tunnel to trek on to the second tunnel: 2

Rounds of "Trivial Pursuit": 1

Times Daddy won "Trivial Pursuit": 1

Goodies Mimi baked/cooked for us: countless

Birthday parties for Rissa's 1st Birthday: 2

Bites of cake she tasted before she really dove in: 1

Hugely oversized, fluffy, pink unicorns acquired by The Birthday Girl: 1

Stops at Starbucks for more caffeine: about 1/2 a dozen

Days we "did school": 0

Hugely oversized "Star Wars" LEGO sets the Uncles bought for the adoring nephews: like, 6?

Hours it took for LEGO sets to be assembled: at least 8

Average temperature: 55 degrees (boooooooooo)

Snowfall witnessed in inches this trip: 0 (booooooooo)

Hugs: millions

Autumn

2011-11-10T03:49:00.000-08:00

The Ghost

2011-10-20T12:05:00.000-07:00

Living with the Ghost of my daughter's Other Mama

is like walking through the home of a friend...

when she's not there.

I hear her voice echoing.

I see her silhouette walking the halls.

I see her fingerprints on everything I touch.

She is very much present.

Not threatening - not troubling - not antagonistic...

but present nonetheless.

I need to live with her Ghost graciously.

Because my daughter will need to be taught to do the same.

Teach me, God. I feel haunted sometimes by this sweet smothering. But I am wary of dismissing it.

Beachy Vacation 2011

2011-10-15T12:29:00.000-07:00

This summer we just stayed put.

This autumn however?

We ventured "Way Up North"for a beachy vacation.

(for us: "Way Up North" = the Florida panhandle)

"Wait, don't you live at the beach?", you may be asking.

Yes.

But "Way Up There" we are on vacation at the beach.

And there is a difference.

We met some of our BFF's at their family's house/trailer combo

a mere 2 blocks from the sand.

There were NINE kids.

TWO normally-overworked, happily rested Daddy's.

TWO makeup-free, carefree Mama's who handed out Twizzlers and Oreo's on demand, all day long.

$450 worth of groceries. (mostly chips, cookies and garbage bags)

1 Mini-golf adventure.

1 movie theatre extraveganza.

2 nights out to dinner as a "party of 4 + 6 kids + 2 high chairs"

{during which, I might add, all the kids were really well-behaved!

They were too exhausted to act normal.}

1 night of "Kilwin's" ice cream cones for dinner.

1 sandy double stroller.

9 jellyfish, 1 dragonfly and 1 crab captured and buried alive by some savage little boys.

11 dollar store shell necklace souveniers.

1 million pale-hued collected shells.

1 icy cold pool below a twisty slide which ALL 4 parents DID descend while screaming.
Loudly.

And a whole lotta lotta lotta fun.

The whole thing is to be repeated ASAP and often.

Huge, raging success.

Totally a sweet gift from the Lord.

Shmethics

2011-10-13T19:11:00.000-07:00

Adoption ethics are about as exiciting a topic as colonoscopys.

Also, about as desirable.

We're talking about a legal issue with international ramifications...

which gets to be extremely subjective.

This is especially true when it comes to international adoption

since domestic adoption is often a dialogue of preference between two families

whereas in international cases there are more voices involved

shouting around, between, over and throughout the process including:

birth family

adoptive parents

agency

attorneys

mediators

judges

2 country's worth of laws

US immigration

and every Tom, Dick and Harry who is watching.

This would include, but not be limited to:

other prospective adoptive parents

past adoptive parents

ethics experts

nationals

neighbors

extended family

blog readers and commenters

and

random fellow shoppers in Walmart.

It's tricky.

Sticky.

And complex.

For example:

Biological parents mentally and verbally CLAIM their child from the moment they connect with him

in utero.

Adoptive parents, however do this at any number of different points in the process:

Some say God ordained this adoption before creation, so some parents CLAIM the child immediately upon news of him.

Some say only a sealed court ruling denotes status, so some parents CLAIM the child only after he is legally theirs.

Some say adoption is rescue and only CLAIM connection long after the adoption is final and the family and child are bonded.

It's complex.

Want proof?

Ask the "When is it YOUR child?" question on an adoptive parent forum.

Watch the hundreds of answers pour in.

I can almost guarantee the answers will begin in this way:

"I believe..."

"I have read..."

"In my case..."

See? Subjective.

There's the complicating fact that in domestic adoption, the trend is towards

"open adoption"

meaning that the birth family remains in communication with the adoptive family for

an agreeable length of time, maybe for always.

In international circles however, this is a touchy ethical debate

since a birth family's existence may mean the child should not be available for adoption at all.

Subjective.

There's debate over whether the adoptive family should

name a child

blog about a child

share pictures of a child

and

tell the child's history.

Debate over whether saying things like

"rescue"

"the least of these"

"feed 1"

and

the actualy number of worldwide orphans

is acurate or a part of a damaging "Savior-mentality".

Above all, there's the ridiculously confounding element of debate

which comes in when we realize that

even though many Christians consider adoption an absolutely spiritual and personal calling...

many simply want a child

or are being humanitarian

or love adoption but are not Christians.

So, everyone debating?

Not going to agree on much, right off the bat.

And even the Christians who ARE debating one another?

Cattiest of them all.

I have seriously seen some of the most indignant, most hateful most angry blog posts about ethics typed by Christ-followers: those who would emulate Jesus.

Jesus...you know...the One who was about Love?

That Jesus?

The One who went through Samaria on purpose becaue He knew she needed Him.

The One who felt the hem of His garment touched by one woman with crowds pressing all around.

The One who saw Zaccheus in the tree.

The One who refused to cast stones but wrote in the dirt.

The One who opened His Mighty-Creator arms and held them there while He died.

Understanding ethics...debating ethics...trying to convince someone of ethics...

it's like debating Calvinism vs. Armenianism.

Difficult.

It's not a place for opinion.

It's not a place for anger.

It's not a place for indignation.

It's a place for opening our hands...and leaving them open.

Ethics is a place for love.

Education.
Transparency.

Grace.

Ethics are important.

Laws are objective, as are basic rules of human kindness -

please don't think that I am campaigning for an Adoption Free-For-All.

But if the point of obeying the call to adopt...

the point of adding to a family...

is

LOVE

than this applies to All Persons Involved

...even one another.

Love.

Love other adoptive parents.

Love the law which sets us free.

Love one another.

Love Him who is the Way, Truth, and Life.

In and Out of The Boat

2011-10-06T12:50:00.000-07:00

I seriously do not like boats.

I've never been on a boat yet which didn't make me want to hurl.

I live in Florida, 12 minutes from the sand

and am married to a man who,

given all the money in the world,

(mission-minded or not)

would most likely buy a big, big boat and putter around the Bay in it to his heart's content.

However, try as I might

armed with Dramamine or not,

I cannot handle boats.

During an anniversary trip one year, while on a boat I was so ill I thought I would rather die.

Dramatic? Yes. True? Totally.

The Captain handed me a beer.

Me. The non-drinker.

Me, with a multi-generational legacy of hard-drinking Easter European alcoholics for family

who doesn't drink for very good reasons,

was offered a beer.

Since I was already inviting death at that point because of the nausea,

I drank it.

And it helped in so many ways I cannot even tell you.

20 minutes later I ate a sandwich,

put on snorkling gear,

jumped out of the boat

and splashed about happily with the fishies.

{Who knew?}

Getting out of the Boat?

Not hard.

Getting back in again?

Easy.

Getting nauseated all over again once the boat moved on?

Exasperating and exhausting.

There's a correlation for me here, with obedience.

I can get out of the boat once I wrap my head around it and commit to obeying.

It goes well because obedience brings blessing.

I get out - Jesus meets me.

I take a break - He beckons again... I...

get nauseated.

Lately, I am finding the small things of obedience much more challenging to obey than

The Grand Requests.

Lately, submission is hard.

Debt payoff.

Faithfulness.

Being accused and biting back a verbal punch.

Accepting silence from Heaven.

Planlessness. (is that a word? no? well, you still get it.)

Consistency.

"God! I got out of the boat once! You walked me through it and I want to walk through it with You again! C'mon Coach, put me in the game!"

Rocking on the sea brings motion sickness.

Walking on water is much more glamorous!

And there's a breeze!

And people watch!

And I see a Vision of Loveliness!

Ethereal vision requires more eye strain from inside a too-warm cabin with a tiny octagonal window.

Obedience is a daily task.

Some days it's an interesting climb up the rigging for a breathtaking vista...

some days it's below deck scraping breakfast dishes.

But ...

obedience isn't so much about what we do as about why we do it

and how.

"I will run in the way of your commandments

for you set my heart free"

~Psalm 119:23

Oh, that my freed heart would chase Jesus

and not just a trip out onto the water.

Oh, that I were content to wander the menial and monotonous with or without a calm belly

instead of dropping anchor and marching on ahead blindly.

Wow. For a girl who can't stand boats

I sure used alotta ship-related terms.

A Prince Among Boys

2011-10-01T19:07:00.000-07:00

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time

there was a boy named Joseph.

Joseph was a young and brave boy who had a hard life.

He ended up an orphan.
He ended up in Africa.

He was lonely and he must have wondered where his life took a wrong turn.

But Joseph had a God who saw him

in a land where he had been overlooked and forgotten.

Joseph's God brought him into a bright land where he was lovingly made a Prince.

Joseph was a real boy once.

Many of us have read about him in the Bible and remember this tale about

a missing son...

who became his family's bright hope and best revival.

I want to tell you a story about another little boy named Joseph.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon this time

there is a boy named Joseph.

Joseph is a brave and sweet 4 year old boy who lives

in Africa.

He is an orphan.

He is sometimes lonely

and he has been waiting for a home with parents and siblings and a future.

This Joseph?

He has a God who sees him, too.

God who made Joseph

whispered his name to his parents in America weeks and weeks ago.

They heard:

"When you find him, he will be Joseph because it will be

'God who adds' to your family."

Joseph's parents knew they had a missing son.

Two weeks later?

News of a boy named Joseph fell into this family's lap.

A boy.

Just the right age.

Just the right name.

Just the right everything.

4 year-old, real-life boy Joseph is

about to be

No Longer an Orphan

but a transplanted Prince among boys,

praised and loved and showered with welcomes and warmth.

And his Mama?

The Mama who heard Joseph's name in just a whisper from God~~~

who pondered how this could possibly be? and where? and how? and when?~~~

this is Arlene.

Arlene who I met at that conference in January.

Arlene who first positioned me in the direct path to Rissa.

She is about to have a son.

His name is Joseph.

To help bring him home?

http://www.engendo.org/family/watson/

within a few days we will be featuring many donated items for sale to help bring this Young Prince

home

COACH bags, jewelry, Very Bradley, etc...

Purge.
Donate.
Shop.
Spend.
SPLURGE.

This is the 1st Annual Purge to Splurge...and you get in on the ground floor, y'all.

Joseph was once a missing son
but he has a future and a family now...

...bright hope and revival included.

Shattered and Refined

2011-08-28T18:52:00.000-07:00

One thing's for sure:

leave the house with children of more than 1 skin color

and

invite interrogation.

Now, you may read that and think:

"Oh, that's terrible."

"No... surely not."

"But, it's 2011, that doesn't happen."

Let me assure you, however: Yes. It does happen.

Try it with The Celebrity Baby and see for yourself.

~~Many~~ Possibly all adoptive parents deal with this far, far more graciously than I do.

I have read lots of great blog posts about how to deal graciously.

I certainly ~~try to be gracious~~ want to be gracious, really I do.

I want my answers to people's prying to

inspire!

educate!

illuminate!

challenge!

whatever!

...but mostly I find myself just really annoyed.

The staring is distracting.

The inappropriate questions are impossible.

The comments are stunning.

The intended compliments even, resonate like insults.

I am, after all, 150% attached to this daughter of mine.

She is my joy and my star and completely complete.

So it's staggeringly painful to watch strangers

pick up the shattered pieces of her story

roll them around in their hands like shards of smashed pottery

wonder at the details

shake their heads slowly as they imagine her secret history

and without lifting their eyes to mine, keep their palm upturned awaiting another broken piece.

"Where's her mother?", they always ask.

"In heaven", I always answer.

"How'd she die?"

"Where's her father?"

"How long'd it take you to get her?"

"How'd you find her?"

"Did you have to actually go get her?"

"What made you want to foster?"

"Are you just caring for her?"

"So she's bought and paid for then?"

"It was a beautiful but complicated thing, how God preserved her.", I normally respond

many different times,

myriad ways,

stumbling as I try to protect her

shielding Her Story from voyeurism

while still being ~~nice~~ superficially patient.

I sense their dissatisfaction with this kind of dismissal

and I feel squirmy.

I was told in pre-adoptive education courses to answer lots of ways, including

"Why do you ask?"

and I may be getting to that point here, soon.

Look, I know why they want to know.

We are totally different skin colors, the daughter on my hip and I.

We are a walking contrast.

I get it.

I know.

And I'd want to know the story, too.

Here's the Thing, though.

I want to talk about the Restored Beauty, not the Broken Pieces.

I want to highlight the

Lovely, Unreproducible Masterpiece

the Lord created using ALL the broken pieces,

mine and hers both

to build this family.

I want to hear how amazed people are that she looks like me, somehow.

How connected we seem.

How content she looks.

How RIGHT it all is.

Not how incongruant.

I want them to see the Amazing Mosaic...not the splintered fragments.

I want them to know that The Potter (Isaiah 64:8)

melted

molded

united

and

recreated

a clay jar (2 Corinthians 4:7) in the Refiner's Fire (Zechariah 13:9).

And He gets the credit.

And He surprised no one more than me.

And He isn't done, yet.

And He is the whole point, anyhow of raising any of these kids at all.
And plus, the boys get really tired of always being stopped in public, listening to questions from strangers about "how they like their new sister".

And I'm not awesome.

And she's not "lucky".
And her mother loved her intensely.
And I get the ridiculous gift of raising her, undeservedly.

And a hundred other things.

....and I am still looking for a way to say all of those things in the grocery store aisle with 3 boys, a 15-lb bag of dog food, an open box of cookies, $300 worth of food and a poopy diapered infant who wants out of the cart immediately if not sooner.

*I should point out, before I lose all friends I've ever had,

that I DON'T mind talking at LENGTH and ANYTIME I am possibly able to,

with ANYONE who is either

A): sincerely interested in adoption

or B): actually a part of our lives and loves our family.

The conversations I am referring to are mostly with people at Publix and Walmart

and mostly by the people who also give a low whistle and say accusatorially:

"Welllllll, you've sure got YOUR hands full."

I am,

clearly,

still figuring out grace.

Summertime...and The Living Was Easy

2011-08-27T07:15:00.000-07:00

I've been hushed.

No writing by me for 26 days.

Maybe a record.

Partially because there are things I have been keeping busy with which are better kept a little quiet ~

{my African attorney's visit to the States and our group's rowdy reunion with her}

{helping 2 dear friends, each chasing referrals for orphaned children they want to bring home}
{a little thing called SCHOOL which began a week ago}

~ and partically because I've been aware of the need to invest
deliberately in my own nest~

but in the midst, somehow
summertime melted clean away.

It was a still, sweet summer.

Intentional. Contented. Unhurried.

But summer 2011 is almost ended now.
It's 8:36PM right now and all blackness beyond those glass doors over there
where only a month ago I would have still seen orange and purple coloring the sky.

The school year is in swing.
Routine. Schedule. Demands.

Co-op, swimming, soccer, friends, birthdays, calandars and serious bedtimes...
the shift is welcome but a little jarring to someone who enjoys being
(shall we say...)
a bit non-conformist.
And fashionably late, by nature.

I'm catching the wings of the last firefly of summer,
leaving these pictures of Summer 2011 here
to capture the tone of our months after Rissa came home...
and the dreamy, relaxed days
of our first summer as a
family
of
6.

What Life Sounds Like {this week}

2011-08-02T20:12:00.000-07:00

"Can we waste some money?"~

Ethan, 4 years old responding to my description of how gambling in a slot machine location we were driving by is actually just wasting money.

"I don't think that's appropriate, Mama."~

Luke, 8.5 years old correcting me when I offered to tape record an episode of a new network TV program of world-racing expedition including daredevil sports.

"Purpose is my middle name."~

Graham, 5.5 years old quickly denying wrongdoing by welcoming mischief when accused by Luke of "hurting (him) on purpose."

"I'm sorry that you sleeped'ed all night."~

Ethan, passive agressively blaming Andrew for catching up on some Zzzz's during the evening hours after he had worked 4 consecutive night shifts, when Andrew came to tuck the boys into bed

before leaving for work.

"I'm so confused."~

Graham, in defeated response when misunderstood and too tired to make the effort.

"Mama. You shrunk."~

Luke, assessing his growth by insulting my height.

The Great Need

2011-07-24T13:24:00.000-07:00

One of my most defining qualities has always been

The Great Need to be Understood.

It's been paralyzing

demanding

and life-long.

I Need to be Understood.

A friend of my Mom's from my childhood used to joke:

"Esty doesn't mind punishment for the crime...

as long as she's had the chance to fully explain herself first."

This was really amusing when I was pigtailed and 3.

But just ask my husband how adorable it is now.

It's a problem.

And admittedly, I have known about this for a while.

It sort of goes hand-in-hand with another issue I wrestle with:

Inexplicably High Expectations of Others.

Stratosphere-High Expectations of Others

The Great Need to be Understood

should =

everyone nodding in agreement that they "GET me."

Vaildation.

Justification.

Understanding.

Appreciation.

Maybe some hand-clapping wouldn't hurt.

Back-patting is always nice.

And roaring, inspired crowds: definitely a bonus.

In adulthood this has manifested into a buncha girlfriends

who I could call on to

listen

advise

gossip with

lament to

complain to

ask advice of

kibbitz with

and most importantly

who could meet The Great Need.

They "GOT me."

Whatever came,

I could feel safe.

Validated.

Elite.

Smug.

I formed My Sorority of Supporters For Myself.

I was "Got."

*much of this has now changed.*

And it's not My Sorority's fault.

I have gone from a Southern-y, hostess-y, public school-y, carpool-line-y,

Doctor's wife ...

to a homeschooling, fairly-messy, makeup-less, spit-up-covered, Africa-loving, adoption-advocating

weirdo.

{Kept the Husband, though. :)}

I changed all my own rules.

My location.

My family size.

And a fair amount of my convictions along the way.

This is a problem.

Especially if you have The Great Need like I do.

I want people to "GET me."

We all have The Great Need, in fact.

It resonates through Scripture.

It blinks at me in red on my kids' faces.

I hear it tinkling through a friend's anecdotes.

I make out strands of it running braided through movie dialogue...

everyone want someone to "GET me".

As I walk the bridge towards obedience

some jump over the railing...

parachute away...

and I hear my own voice echoing back to my own ears

The Sorority

gone

uninterested

bored

unable to "GET me" any longer.

To be honest, all of a sudden I realize... loneliness.

I have The Great Need, remember.

To be Understood.

And often now...I am just really

.......not.

It sinks in.

And sticks to my heart like cold oatmeal.

I have to scrub out the rejection, my confusion, my bits of resentment

with Truth.

Remember :

HEY - someone DOES "GET me."

I wanted to be

God's Girl

at God's Time

for God's Aproval

right, self?

"And now without The Great Need met by The Sorority,

I am lonely? Seriously, self?!"

"Knock it off",

(I am really preaching to myself now)

"and grow up in your faith why don't you?"

God "GETS me."

Jesus made me.

He even made The Great Need and put it in me.

Intentionally.

"The LORD your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love."

~Zephaniah 3:17

I would really have to think very, very hard about whether I have ever been

"quieted by His love"

before.

But I long for this now.

It meets The Great Need.

And big news here:

it's the ONLY thing that meets The Great Need.

The Great Need to be Understood remains.

But it is Satisfied

when I allow it to be

in Him.

The Saved Life: The Incredible Story of Mr. Miles

2011-07-13T19:17:00.000-07:00

When I was waiting all through 2010 to begin our adoption there was
1 friend
in particular who
always had time to mentor me.

Her name is Debbie.

She is a Mama, too.

She has 4 kids. 3 were born in China.

And Debbie always said the 1 thing that Prospective Adoptive Parent's

all want to hear:

that my day would come.

Debbie would send me emails that ended with:

"Just think! You are one day closer to Rissa!"

This was long before we knew Rissa existed.

Debbie is exceedingly special to me.

Debbie made me believe in my own dream.

When Debbie and I would talk I would be listening for hope

and she would hand it over generously.

Once during a marathon-length-talk,

Debbie said:

"Esty, don't despise the timing being 'off'.

There's a reason you are meant to go whenever you go."

Now, I knew why Debbie had said this.

When she brought home their #4 from China,
they were denied travel and had to wait another 6 weeks
& travel with an entirely different group of adoptive families to China.

It had been over Christmas that year and she had been sorely disappointed.

It was really hard for them to wait till January.

But during that trip to China in January they met another adoptive family...

and in time

Debbie was instrumental in a miracle for this family.

So.

I knew Debbie was right - but really, I believed that she was right about HER situation.

Maybe not so much about mine.

When things fell outside of my perfect timeline I was frustrated and blinded by consuming desperation.

My TIMELINE MUST WORK.

Or so I behaved.

There was, after all, another family waiting on us.

They never, ever pressured us but I pressured us plenty.

After all: our daughter was surely sick!

This other family was waiting on us!

We had court looming!

Andrew's time off was approaching!

I had a PLAN!

When all was said and done The. Timeline. worked beautifully,
no thanks at all to my worrying.
(eye roll at myself)

*there's a lesson right there for me*

We got there across the oceans.

We got her in our own arms.

We were good.

While we were in Ug@nda we wondered at Rissa's good health,

marveled that she could be ill at all...

but set it aside and assumed we would find out more at Home in the USA.

Meanwhile, another family was in-country while we were.

I had met her, Sara, at that conference in February.

She had been the kindest soul at our table.

I couldn't wait to see her.

When we met up in Ug@nda,

Sara told me that another gal from that conference and her sister, too

were each adopting a baby boy from an orphanage nearby.

Sara had visited these 2 baby boys.

who were both hospitalized currently.

They were each under 1 year old.

She asked whether Andrew would go see them -

give his opinion?

He easily agreed.

The following day Andrew, me, Rissa and our Brilliant Driver

headed for the state-run hospital for Andrew to visit these 2 baby boys.

Mr. Doctor Husband marched in - - -

long hair

backpack

stethoscope

ball cap

tennis shoes.

20 minutes later he emerged.

Changed to his core.

Head quietly hung.

Shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

"There were 12 babies in there.",

he murmurs, processing medically as he talks out loud.

There is no medicine in this facility.

"At least 10 of them should have been on a ventilator."

And the youngest baby? Miles?

The sister-of-a-friend-of-a-friend's baby?

He weighed 9lbs.

He struggled to empty his lungs of carbon dioxide,

toiled to breathe in air.

"That kid's not gonna make it through the night."

Andrew looks defeated.

This was it.

Medicine or Miles is done.

Tonight.

I have heard him talk about patients before but they are always patients.

Not my friend's baby.

We sat and thought.

Racked our brains.

Asked our Brilliant Driver what on earth to do.

Called Sara.

Discussed some more.

Called the US director of the baby home.

Called the adoptive Mommy in Georgia.

Called an ambulance.

Andrew, Sara and Another Mama got him transferred to a hospital with medicine.

4 hours later Miles was receiving a breathing treatment while seated on Andrew's lap,

squawling and glaring healthily at Andrew,

who laughed in relief at the angry, tiny thing.

The next week his Mommy came to care for him with her own hands

and love and bottles and snuggles.

That was then.

This is now.

Miles came home with his Mommy

to his Daddy,

2 big brothers

and a VERY relieved extended family.

So.

The Saved Life.

I thought it would be Rissa.

But really...

it was Miles.

My friend Debbie was right all along.

The Lord was pacing us.

The metronome kept time.

The world spun correctly.

Miles sleeps in his crib tonight in Georgia

and Rissa in hers here under my own roof

and when I lay down in my own soft bed I will feel tears seep from under closed lids,

run down my smiling cheeks

while I repeat to my God Who Hears All Things:

Who is like you, LORD God Almighty?
You, LORD, are mighty, and your faithfulness surrounds you.

~Psalm 89:8

These Little Lives and HIV

2011-07-08T19:40:00.000-07:00

This is the blog post that has been tumbling on "fluff cycle" in my brain for 9 weeks.

Don't think that fact means that it will make sense.

It won't.

Nothing about what I am about to write makes sense.

I am just ready to get it out of my head and onto paper.

When I shared back in February that Andrew and I had a contact who knew about a little girl

who turned out to be Rissa

I wrote then that we were told that she was:

"Less than 2 years old

and

available for international adoption"

I left out one key part.

We were also told she was probably HIV positive.

Her birth mother had died recently from AIDS.

We knew this from Day 1.

Africa did not dupe us.

We wanted her desperately and we were ready.

It never even occurred to us to check the speedometer.

We knew Project Hopeful.

I knew Amy Levy.

I knew Suzanne Mayernick.

I am married to a physician.

I am a trained pediatric nurse by (former) trade.

"Bring it on!" we emoted.

We knew the CDC says there has NEVER been a case of family or friends transmitted case of HIV

EVER in world history in casual, normal circumstances.

She would not ever scrape a knee and bleed and infect anyone.

She would have a normal life expectancy, around 85 years.

She would carry a child one day.

And we were protected by 2 laws stating we need never disclose her status to anyone

but a healthcare provider.

But we knew also that we would disclose her status when the time came.

For:

This made sense!

This was our family destiny!

We would wave this flag!

We would live a life of educating the masses!

This was our family calling!

In Africa this child would most likely perish.

Here in America she would not.

SO! Here was the brilliant answer to our prayers of so long:

"Lord, bring us the child who needs us like we need her."

It all made complete sense.

!!!!!

Then we went to Africa.

Our daughter was perfect in our eyes.

We brought her back home.

And now she has been tested thoroughly.

As of 9 weeks ago.

So now we know:

She is HIV NEGATIVE.

Not "kind of negative but let's check again"

Not "mostly negative but it could change"

SHE's HIV NEGATIVE.

WOW!!!!

Game-changer!

I cannot even express how we felt we were walking on air upon being told this news.

You may well appreciate why this has taken me some weeks to wade through.

The far-reaching implications involved in living with a chronic illness, however manageable

have now been removed.

The lifetime connection to this virus essentially deleted.

The journey we anticipated embarking on as a fearless family?

A screeching halt.

Phenomenal news? INDEED!

Life-changing, amazing and spectacular? ABSOLUTELY!

...*But what of my friends who deal with this virus and it's threats for their own children still?

How do I tactfully share this without feeling like I have boarded a lifeboat

without them?

...*What of the strangers and well-meaning acquaintances who casually remark:

"Wow, she looks really healthy - is she healthy?"

(And YES they most certainly do ask me this frequently.)

How do I say:

"Well, we thought she had HIV but we're so surprised, she doesn't!"

That may seem easy.

Try it.

It's not.

...*What of our initial intentions to adopt "special needs" to put a lovely face on a category so overlooked and avoided?

...*What about all the bright faces who, upon hearing her negative status immediately praise

Andrew and I for somehow winning God's favor?

"You were faithful and God gave you such a great gift."

"You made yourself available to God and He chose to give you a healthy child in return."

"You prayed and God really heard your prayers."

What I want to say in return is this, however acerbic is seems:

"First off: we weren't praying she would be negative.

We were cool with her being HIV positive.

In fact, we couldn't even let ourselves think about her maybe being negative.

So God answering our prayers?

Nope.

Maybe a couple of prayers were desperately shot up

with microscopic faith they could actually achieve anything

but that this type of prayer would cause the Maker of Heaven and Earth to shift a person's viral load?

No way, dude.

I'm not that persuasive.

Secondly: our faithfulness is all attributed to Jesus anyway.

I am faithless, trite, and scatterbrained with a short attention span.

Without Jesus' faithfulness NOTHING would ever get done with me around.

So was it my faithfulness in adopting an orphan that led the Almighty Creator Savior

to be appreciative and grant me 3 wishes somehow?

Nope.

I am really not that impressive.

And guess what?

Rissa being HIV negative isn't even the most miraculous thing about her.

And guess what else?

God would STILL BE GOOD if she was positive!"

This whole thing?

This was ALL GOD.

He willed it.

He called it.

He made her our daughter.

This is how He got her here in my arms.

She's supposed to be mine.

Period.

His faithfulness

His goodness.

His mercy.

His grace.

He somehow got a family on the road to adopting a

Chinese special needs orphan under age 3 >>>>>>>>>>

>>>>>>>.> to adopt a healthy 4 month-old from Ug@nda.

and so.........now.

How does this fit into our family destiny?

We have not a special needs adoption under our belts.

We are not HIV+ parents.

We are a family of 6.

We love Jesus.

we,

like all families

need a flag to wave.

We have to stand for stuff.

We have to know what the heck we are about.

So. What shall it be then?

"God does good things for you when you adopt?"

no.

"Pray and God will do what you want?"

no.

"Some people like me are the luckiest?"

no.

It is this:

He is faithful.

He is good.

He is merciful.

He is gracious.

He is surprising.

and harder still:

He ordains.

He chooses.

He is Almighty, Creator, Redeemer, Sovereign

and He doesn't need our permission

and He doesn't need our agreement

and He doesn't need our approval.

He is the King.

For My Boys and My Little Girl

2011-07-03T07:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Little Boys and dear Tiny Girl~

You are the Reason for this blog, after all. Not stats, not "Followers", not the general public but YOU. This blog and the previous one, too are bound annually and made into books chronicalling your childhood. I am no photographer, no scrapbooker, no chef and no author but what I am is your Mama and I intend to write it all down and secure these memories like everlasting lightnening bugs buzzing happily in a Mason jar for as long as these fingers and this mind of mine can function cohesively. After all, YOU are who matter to me most in all the world - YOU and your Dada. And one day your may want to unscrew the aluminum ringed lid, peer into this jar and read one little lightening bug at a time. You will want to know one day when you are parents yourselves what in the world Dada and I were thinking. Why we lived the way we did, why we chose what we did and how you responded at the time. Maybe not. But at least your wives will be interested, Boys.

You are all so terrific I must write down how amazing you each are right now - how spectacularly God has been filling you out and coloring you in.

Because after all, this is for YOU.

*Luke, you are 8.5 years old. You are special. I know most people say this about their eldest and everyone who says it believes it but son, you are special. You are mature. You are a Believer. You bear fruit. You are sensitive. You relish being the Big Brother. You are serious. You are loyal. You are a thinker. You are trustworthy. You are burdened for the lost souls in this world. You are secure. You are hilarious. You don't like change. At all. You are curious about how things work. You love history, politics, and lofty concepts. You enjoy dialogue. You have a hearty laugh. Your swim has phenom-level form. You are incredibly goofy and spastic. You tell really poor jokes about body functions. You climb like a monkey. You skateboard like a teenager. You are lanky and all arms and legs and your half-grin is just like your father's and your wink will make girls swoon in not too many years ahead. Your favorite thing is family time. You love Jesus. You consider things intently. You are incredibly well-behaved so You have need of embracing grace in your walk with Him. You are a worker. You are hesitant but I see God is arming you with a lance and is making YOU into a Brave Knight, finding the battle and forging ahead unabashed and unafraid, a leader of men. God is making you a Fighter.

*Graham, you are 5.5 years old. You are a delight. You are sweet. You are hilarious. You are bright and surprisingly knowledgable about matters which amaze me. You are snuggly. You are kissy. You are the most baby-oriented big brother of them all. You are a sharer of the highest order. You are an excellent swimmer. You are rarely a crier. You are generous without limits. You are skin-and-bones skinny. You love milk but abhor many, many other foods. You are easily worn out while obeying so you have need of diligence. Your colorful imagination means it's challenging for you to stay on task. You are most comfortable surrounded by your brothers, metaphorically and literally. You have a killer dimple. You love to color and send mail to friends, always waiting to see if anyone's sent you anything. You break my heart because you are quiet and content to play. If anyone needs a twin, it's you. You are dependant. You are shy. You love to wrestle and kick and spar. You are sincere in your love for Jesus and your prayers are shockingly heartfelt and spoken in complete faith. You fall asleep most nights before our prayers are completed. You are a sound sleeper and a bright, smiling waker. You are a revelation to me everyday. You are young and timid but I see God is making YOU into a Benevolent Lion, protector of the weak and innocent with a bent towards justice. God is making you a Hero.

*Ethan, you are 4 years old. You are really more like 12 though. You speak with the vocaulary of a pre-teen. At least. You are a clown. You are a gymnast. You are an entertainer. You are tired easily by day's end still and you suck your wrist and rub my arms when you need comfort. You need regular snuggling to fill your love tank. You are completely trusting of any plan your brothers concoct and function at their level in almost any environment despite your age but you also love calling the shots and defining the rules. You are bossy. You have a hard time accepting denial. You are argumentative but actually easy to mold with rebuke. You are responsive to reproof. You want answers. You are incredbily athletic and active. You can mobilize people to do your bidding with your wide grin and bright blue eyes. You flirt. You are silly and sure of yourself. You love Jesus but you need to know your own sin and see your need for forgiveness. You are unpredictable. You negotiate. You make best friends at the drop of a hat. You are popular. Already. You have amazing potential still untapped but I see God making YOU into a Fierce Leader, a model among men who others are drawn to as magnets. God is making you a Captain.

*Rissa, you are 7 months old. You are the Celebrity Baby. You attract stares, compliments and praise every time we leave the house. You are technicolor. You are sunshine. You are the royal princess with loyal subjects who surround you with adoration from the moment your black eyes open in the morning until they close at night. You are busy. You are ambitious. You are happy and demanding and grabby and sweet. You smell like lavender and bananas and brown sugar. You are the epicenter of a new bond in your home. You are the star in the sky we flew to outer space to capture and you shine here in our midst now so brightly that you take our breath away. You are loved. That's a huge understatement. You are special and wanted and coveted and amazing. You are the cherry on our sundae, the icing on the cake, the Dove chocolate in the Halloween candy bowl, the star on the tree. You are the diamond. You are promised by God and handed to Him but you need Jesus to restore your broken heart and redeem your past. You have pain and trials to forge past but I see God making YOU into a Regal Queen, opposing the forces of sadness and shining a scepter of beautiful grace down on the scores who you will bless. God is making you an Empress.

You are my children and nothing on earth - not my own dreams, not my other destinies, not my personal agenda, not my own life is more valuable to me than YOU four tiny people. No matter what comes next - no matter where we go - no matter who you are when you read this One Day, this is what your Mommy sees when I see each of you:

A Fighter, A Hero, A Captain, An Empress.

You bless me by just existing.

Well, THAT certainly was not what I was expecting adoption to achieve.

2011-06-27T12:46:00.000-07:00

So what's this all been about?

We're home.

For 2 months now.

We are attached,

I feel fairly comfortable saying.

We are adjusted,

meaning most nights most people sleep all night long in their own beds.

It's done, pretty much.

She's here.

She's ours.

She's awesome.

We're...good.

It feels a little like walking off a pier and never hitting water.

Now we feel a little bit in limbo.

Life CANNOT go back to normal.

Seriously:

how could it, after what we've seen and known?

We long for Africa.

We enjoy life here, don't get me wrong:

the kids have bestest buddies - they swim at the Y- we have glorious air conditioning- etc.

But we long for Africa.
Friends of mine still bogged down in thier present struggle just to get their kids HOME to America
live a very different reality.
But MY reality - MY dream is to trade places one day.
And for Africa to be my Home.

And it's not about discontentment.

It's not about: "I need another emotional high."

It's not about: "I need to adopt more and more and more right away."

It's not about: "I can do more - I will do more - I will do the most!"

It's not even about adoption.

It's not about my kids at all or how many there are.

It's not even about our future as a family and what's best.

It's not about God's heart for the orphan.

It's about

OBEDIENCE.

Where we've been, spiritually speaking---

where God has taken us and taught us about faith and diligently following Him even when we were bewildered and confused and hurting---

what He has shown us ---

is that ultimately all of that was NOT a result of Rissa's adoption.

Adoption was the conduit through which God

broke us

taught us

pulled us close

and lifted our eyes.

ALL of what God's been doing in our hearts was a result of OBEDIENCE.

We OBEYED through God's grace.

So, we are going to keep on obeying.

For the moment that means raising my children well,

"washing them in the Word",
homeschooling for all I'm worth,

pouring it out for those around me,

finding rest in Him bringing ministry to my doorstep,

and recognizing He is pacing us.

For now obedience means having just a dream...

of Africa.

Obedience is remembering this adoption
which has taught us that

even when it feels like I am just walking

there's a moving sidewalk under my feet.

God is moving the Earth under me, directing my steps

pointing me

leading me

correcting my missteps

pulling me through countless doorframes and windowpanes

towards the dream He has put in me.

And being still.

It's what I obey.
For now.

Happily.

Rissa's Story ~Gotcha Day and Homecoming Video~

2011-06-07T05:14:00.000-07:00

Africa Part 4 -- The End and The Beginning

2011-06-06T13:46:00.000-07:00

This should be "The End of Our African Adventure to Adopt Our Daughter".

Should be, but it's Not The End of Anything.

It's Another Beginning.

There were not enough days in Uganda for us.

If the boys could have joined us we could have happily stuck around for a good deal longer.

Becoming African suited us.

Now, to be sure:

mosquito nets are not glamorous...

the heat is noteworthy...

and the food can be challenging for an American palate...

but truthfully

We dug it.

We began to become African.

We met courageous people.

We saw unadorned and sursprising beauty.

We realized perpetual, mountainous need.

Our eyes were opened.

Our goals are changed.

Our lives are shifting.

Africa will not leave us now.

I see Africa in my child's face

I hear Africa in scatters of music

I sense Africa in little ways constantly.

And I we miss it.

So.

Could we be satisfied now?

Could we tell God we will just serve Him here

(and be quite comfortable, incidentally)

and take family portraits with my little girl FINALLY added into the mix?

Could we be content to send money to people in Africa?

Could we please just get over all of this life-shifting,

revolutionary stuff?

This is no longer the question.

Why would we ever want to be satisfied with this again?

I can't tell what is ahead but I will tell you this:

There is just no telling what comes next.

Stay Tuned.