When I think back on how the summer has unfolded, I get so sad to think that until the middle of May we were really hoping/expecting to have traveled to Ethiopia at least once by now, and would have been home preparing a place for the boys and awaiting the call to go get them any day. I SO hoped the summer would unfold that way. So whenever I thought about coming up to VA and staying for a bit, I didn’t really want to because I knew that would mean a hold-up in our adoption.
I can’t begin to fathom the depth of the wisdom of God and why He does things the way he does them. I don’t know why he is allowing us and our boys to wait longer to be united as a family. Earlier this summer it caused me so much distress to weigh what I know about his love and sovereignty against my present circumstances, and especially against Jonathan and David’s circumstances.
I can see good reasons why it may be “good” for the five of us to wait for them. We are growing in patience. We’re learning about prayer and trust. Gloria is in a particularly busy stage – it’s nice to have the time to devote to helping her learn to communicate and obey and know her boundaries. Noa and Martha have a newfound interest in “schoolwork” and we’re having fun learning lots of new things together, time I probably wouldn’t have with two little babies to care for. There are other things too. I can see the “goodness” in our wait.
But I struggle to see how it is “good” for the baby boys. More time in an orphanage? More time away from their forever family? More time without the health and medical resources available to them here? More time learning to fend for themselves because they don’t know if and who will be meeting their many needs?
Well, I still don’t know. And it still makes me weep when I let my mind fly across the ocean and wonder what they are doing this very moment, and plead with the Father that supernaturally they would know they are loved and cherished.
But the Lord (and it is truly the Lord – PRAISE HIM) has been gracious to give me a peace in the not knowing. He has used his Word time and again to speak comfort and peace to me, and to remind me of his great faithfulness.
And he has changed my mourning of a summer that didn’t go as I planned, to rejoicing in the good gifts he has given in this time as a family of 5 that we didn’t anticipate we’d have. The blessings are too numerous to count, but I will share some in the next few weeks. He is so good!
One gift I am treasuring is this sweet time with my girls. The last several months of the paper-chase and fund raising for our adoption were busy, and sometimes I was so focused on working to get the boys that I struggled to find the time and emotions to just enjoy these precious three girls.
These last several weeks with no paperwork, no fundraising, few phone calls, and LOTS of time together have been so sweet. Traveling together and the little adventures we’ve had have been precious times of bonding and growing in my enjoyment of these little ladies and the wonderful and unique way the Lord has shaped each of them. They are such fun, and while I long for the day we grow with the addition of their brothers, I am seeing this season of having just the three of them for the gift that it is. Truly, things will never be the same!
So I am savoring this stage - this girly, frilly, feminine stage of our family. We hope and pray it won’t last much longer, but it is a special gift that we have so enjoyed. When I imagined the family God would give me, I never dreamed I would have “all girls”. And yet here I am, so awestruck at the perfection of God’s design in building our family the way he has built it. I am so grateful.
Thank you, God, for the gift of these girls. Thank you for the special ways you have blessed and grown Eric and I through this unique blessing of being an “all girl” family. Thank you for giving us your very best in giving us Noa, Martha, and Gloria. And thank you for giving them each other. What gifts they have found in the joys of sisterhood, and what gifts lie ahead there too. Thank you, God.
In my last post, I shared our great news, as well as how it is making me feel.
I wrote: And I’ll be honest. I’m humbled because in the midst of such provision and grace, I still fear, I still worry, I’m still so faithless. I think,”Lord, did you know who you were dealing with when you called us to this? Did you know that I could have a mountain of an ebenezer before me, and still so quickly forget, so quickly fear?”
Here’s a little of where I’m coming from with that:
A month ago we had an event at church called “The Grace of Adoption” and it was an incredible evening. Within 24 hours, through people who came to that and through others, the Lord provided over $16,000 in gifts and pledges toward our adoption. $16000 in 24 hours! Yes, that’s almost half our adoption costs.
We cried. We rejoiced. We praised God. We shared the incredible news with anyone we could. It was amazing. You have to agree – it’s amazing! And God did it.
But in those same 24 hours, as so much of the worry and stress about money for the adoption melted off, it was replaced by more fear and worry about the situation in Ethiopia than I have felt throughout the entire process. Nothing about that situation had changed in those 24 hours. In fact, I could reason that since God was showing us so much favor in the area of finances for the adoption, then surely that meant he would show us favor by making a way and getting us a court date.
But I’ve been realizing a pattern of my heart that overflowed into the fear and worry that overtook me in those days (and continues to threaten on a moment by moment basis).
I still see myself as an orphan.
Or, rather, I still don’t see God for the loving Father that he is. I not only believe the lie that he will give me a snake instead of fish (Matthew 7:9-11), but in my twisted theology, I imagine he dresses the snake up as fish to make it more devastating.
Oh, that sounds so horrible to write, to admit for you to read. But it’s sadly true. And as I’ve examined my heart and the Lord has gently revealed his Word to me these last weeks, I’ve seen my unbelief for what it is: so ugly, so stupid, so downright full of contempt in the face of all the proof I have of my Father’s love.
These have been good, hard weeks of relearning things I thought I already knew. Sometimes I find myself chanting, “I am not an orphan, I am not an orphan, I am NOT an orphan.” And I’m not. I have a Father who loved me so much that he paid the highest price I can imagine – HIS SON – that the ransom for my adoption might be paid in full.
I am learning that my circumstances are not a barometer of God’s love for me. He already proved it and graciously gives me glimpses on this side of heaven of how he is working all things for my good. But sometimes I don’t catch those glimpses and He’s teaching me to thank him still.
I just finished One Thousand Gifts, by Ann Voskamp, and the Lord knew it was a timely read for me. I highly recommend this gem of a book. I highly recommend counting gifts.
Here’s just one (of many) nuggets from her that God has used to teach me:
“The good news that all those living in the land of the shadow of death have been birthed into new life, that the transfiguration of a suffering world has already begun. That suffering nourishes grace, and pain and joy are arteries of the same heart – and mourning and dancing are but movements in His unfinished symphony of beauty. Can I believe the Gospel, that God is patiently transfiguring all the notes of my life into the song of His Son?
What in the world, in all this world, is grace?
I can say it certain now: All is grace.
I see through the woods of the world: God is always good and I am always loved…
Because eucharisteo [giving thanks] is how Jesus, at the Last Supper, showed us to transfigure all things – take the pain that is given, give thanks for it, and transform it into a joy that fulfills all emptiness…
The hard discipline to give thanks for all things at all times because He is all good.” (from pg. 100 of One Thousand Gifts )
My Father is always good. I am learning that even through hardship (not just this hardship but the many that I see all around, pouring down on those I love), my Father is not off his throne, nor is he loving his children any less. It’s so mysterious to me.
Yet, it all makes perfect sense when I experience how giving thanks truly brings joy amidst the sorrow. Though I HATE this wait, I wouldn’t trade the grace of God in my life to be revealing these orphan-tendencies of my heart, of making me wrestle and become certain of his love, of the desperate neediness that has called me more than ever before to his throne of grace in prayer. I HATE being out of control, but oh how sweet it has been to fling myself on Jesus, to search my heart and find I have nowhere else to turn but to Him, claiming his complete control. And I hate being fearful (and never have I struggled with such desperate fear as I have for my boys, and my own breaking heart), but I have seen the miracle that perfect love casts out fear. His perfect love, when I meditate on it and the certainty of it washes over me, “bids my anxious fears subside”. There is such freedom there.
And so I wait and struggle to camp myself there – basking in his love and learning to thank Him. The stand-still-stop delay that is happening in Ethiopia is still not cleared up, and it seems it will be several weeks before it is, if it is. In and of myself, the situation is desperate – not just there but in my heart. Praise God for the truth of his Word, and that it is living and active. Praise God he hasn’t stopped working on my heart, no matter how slow and forgetful I am.
Yeah… I am feeling pretty humbled.
And SO VERY thankful.
A few weeks ago I was sorting through clothes that were Oliver’s that Mary Stuart gave me for our little guys. I was trying to decide if I should send them all over, and if not, which ones. Some thoughts that were going through my head:
Will these fit the boys? It says 3-6 months, but I know they are small for their ages…
Will they wear them? I know orphanages just have big group closets, so they may actually never wear these sweet hand-me-downs from their cousin.
And the hardest thoughts, Will I ever see the boys in these or any other clothes I pick out for them? Are these the only things I will ever get to give to these precious ones who have stolen my heart?
You know, we call them our sons, we pray for them, we love them from afar, we have great dreams for them, but technically they are not ours. One change of law or policy could render this whole adoption impossible and we could never even meet them, much less bring them home and make them part of our family. We think about that sometimes. My mind goes there too often.
Now even if I wanted to, I couldn’t “guard my heart” from these boys. One look at them and I was a gonner. But I haven’t even tried that. From before we saw their faces I was all in.
Eric and I were talking about this the other night. He worries – out of love and care for me and our girls – that I am setting myself up to be heartbroken if something doesn’t go as planned. And he has good reason. I will be heartbroken if this adoption doesn’t go through. I will miss those boys for the rest of my life. I mean, I miss them more each and every day that I know about them and love them. It’s arleady heartbreaking.
And as I’ve thought and prayed about this, wondering if I am doing something destructive to myself by letting my heart be all in this, I’ve come to realize a few things.
One is that I am so blessed. Blessed beyond measure. The Lord has dealt so gently and graciously with me. Not only materially, but especially emotionally and spiritually. I have few, if any scars or deep hurts from my past. I have been given amazing people in my life, an incredible support system of family and friends all over the world. SO many people have poured themselves into me. Most of all, my Lord has poured himself out for me and poured his Spirit into me. He’s given me himself and I have everything in him plus so much more. My cup overflows.
And these boys, they have nothing. Materially they have nothing to their name. Even the toys and clothes we sent over will go into the communal closet. More devastating, though, is that there is no one pouring into their hearts. No one in their corner, no one committed to them for life.
And you know what I think? I can risk my full-to-overflowing heart being broken for them. For some reason – I hope and pray it is because they are part of our family – the Lord has put these boys in our lives and engraved their faces and names on our hearts. Even if I never get to meet them, I will count it a joy to love them from afar, to pray for them as I do the children who are legally mine, to be invested in their lives. I may be the only person who ever does that for them.
So, I’m trusting God with my heart – the one He has had my whole life, the one he has so filled and blessed based on no merit of my own and only on his great love – and pouring it out in any way that I can for these precious boys across the ocean. It’s what he’s done for me. He poured out his love and his blood while I was still far off. He advocates for me before the Father, even when my heart is rebellious and astray. What a privilege to mirror that love – to give fully with no guarantee of a return – for these precious boys.
Like I said, we believe the Lord will bring the these boys home into our family and they will be ours in every sense of the word. Most days I feel confident of that. But sometimes I begin to wonder if that may not be his plan for bringing us down this road, for putting these boys in our lives. And I realize how devastating it will be – for me, for Eric, for these girls who adore their “brothers” already. I also realize, though, I can’t be anywhere but where I am with these boys, my boys. I’m all in.
Big sisters sending some things - and so much LOVE - to Jonathan and David.
I’ve had this knot in my stomach for the last several weeks as we’ve waited for this week to come. And now it’s here and I am dreading what Wednesday will hold. My big brother Jonathan, my sister by marriage and sister of my heart Maggie, and my precious fireball nieces Annie and Lily will fly away to South Asia to begin the life and ministry we’ve all been anticipating for them for so long. I knew the day would come, but it sure seems to have come much quicker than I thought, and the ache that has accompanied their last days here has been potent, to say the least. While the Lord has heaped blessing upon blessing on us in our time here in Orlando, the gift of getting to live near this precious family – family that was already beloved to us – and become such close friends as well has been the greatest highlight. It is a gift I have marveled at time and again. In fact, if you asked about our life here, I probably mentioned to you what a treasure it has been to me to live side by side with my family for this season, to really know my sister-in-law and count her a closest friend and confidant, to know and be known by my nieces, to watch my children experience the same with their Aunt and Uncle, and to see them enjoy such precious friendships with their cousins (the sweetness of all of these was only made greater by the fact that I grew up on the other side of the world, barely knowing any of my extended family until I moved back to America for college). Truly, this time has been rich for my little family of five, and rich for my heart. And as the last hours of this season slip away over these next several days, I can’t help but cry as I imagine what our lives will look like in the new season, as I anticipate the huge void that will left in their absence. I know we won’t have to miss their faces or their voices, as we have skype. I will just so miss the living that we’ve done together. And amidst my own ache, I can’t help but hurt as I anticipate the ache of two little girls in particular who will continue to ask, as they always do, when Annie and Lily are coming over next or if Annie will be in class at church today, or can we meet Aunt Maggie and Annie and Lily at the park? I know it sounds dramatic, but if you knew the sheer number of hours that go into either being with their cousins, or anticipating being with them, you’d understand how life-changing this will be for Noa and Martha (and Gloria, but she doesn’t know it).
Anyway, this is all very self-centered. This is just what I’m going through right now. I haven’t even touched on how thankful we are for the Lord’s provision and grace that have led these dear ones to this point, or how thrilled we are for their sake (and the sake of the people they go to serve) at what is ahead for them. We just love them so much and selfishly hurt as we send them off.
Would you pray for our precious family as they make this huge step this week? Pray for their hearts as they have so much to do and so many to say goodbye to, and have some major adjustments in the months ahead. And pray for those of us they leave behind who will be missing life with them and adjusting to life without them. And please pray for God’s glory in it all, as that’s what this is all about anyway!
The last few weeks I have been working on a scrapbook to send with them chronicling some of our many moments shared. It was such fun to remember and thank God for all that he did to orchestrate this special time, and I think it was therapeutic for me too. I wanted to highlight a few photos that made it in, though these are only a small fraction.
only days after we arrived in FL... these girls became bffs in no time!
At the beginning, there were only four little girls (and several baby dolls)
But there were soon five! Lily was the first to meet Gloria, and the only cousin or sister to come to the hospital.
Annie and Uncle Eric
Me and Maggs and our big girls
Martha and fun Uncle Jonathan
Lils and Glo and their super smiles
Annie at Noa's tea party
Maggie and Lilsabell
3 happy 2 year olds
These two really love eachother... they can't stop smiling when they get together.
One of my favorite pictures EVER
Jonathan, Maggie, Annie, and Lily:
OH, how we will miss you!
We love you so very much!
love,
Uncle Eh-dic, Ay-say-ya, No-Mar, and Baby Go-iya
Yesterday was a c-r-a-z-y day involving me getting to spend most of it with a dear Chinese sister who is having some medical complications. Unfortunately the few moments I was home I was rushing around trying to get things done that needed to be done so that the kids would have clean clothes and food to eat while I was at the hospital with her. I was also on the phone making arrangements quite a bit.
As I was kissing the girls goodbye in the evening to head to the emergency room with her, Noa said, “Mommy, I was almost mad at when you were on the phone today.”
Me: “Oh no. Why were you almost mad at me?”
Noa: “Because you were being rude to me.”
It’s true, I was being so rude to my kids and there’s no excuse for it. I was rushing them, hissing at them to be quiet, becoming frustrated with them and showing it in the way I communicated with them. Needless to say, there was a good bit of repenting I needed to do – both to them and to the Lord. I am so thankful for his gentle prodding in the sweet voice of my daughter, who shared this with me in the most sincere, non-judgemental way. It gave me a true picture of his grace as he deals with our sin. What a blessing it was to me in that moment in the hours since as I have reflected on it. Thanks, God!
Have you seen this painting before?
It’s called “Safely Home” by Ron DiCianni and I saw it in a book of the same name by Randy Alcorn. I copied it from the Eternal Perspectives Ministries website.
There were so many things that went through my mind when I saw it, but I just want to share this verse that Alcorn pointed out:
“They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their life so much as to shrink from death.” Revelation 12:11
I am blessed to have known an incredible guy, a friend who was just months younger than me. He loved Jesus and loved people and, in August, was killed while he was showing that love in a far off country to people who hardly anyone even knows or cares about. One moment he was in one of the scariest and horrific situations I can imagine here on earth, and the next moment was experiencing what is portrayed above (but in a much greater, deeper, fuller, mysterious way than any of us could imagine). He lost his life for Christ’s sake and gained eternal, full, perfect life immediately back.
Lord, in my mind I believe it was worth it, but my faith is so weak at times. Help my unbelief and make me like these saints – the ones in Revelation and this dear friend – that I would not love this life or things or even people more than You.