Over the years Emerson and I have discussed the concept of practicing resurrection, of intentionally living in ways that bring life back into lifeless places, living out our belief that the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the foundation of our lives. It's been a while since we've talked about that. You know the way that ideas that once burned bright and guided you for a season seem to flicker out without notice?
This past Sunday during the church service we sang the Crowder song, "I Am". As I was singing the words of the bridge, "This is my resurrection song..." that whole concept of living out the resurrection as a spiritual discipline came flooding back into my mind. And I thought, "How am I doing at that, Lord? Is my life breathing resurrection life into the people and places around me?" And in that moment our farm passed before my mind's eye.
Two months ago we purchased an eight acre farmstead. It was a whirlwind decision. We've been talking about moving to the country for years. How we wanted a big old fixer-upper farmhouse with a charming front porch. We'd wanted 5-10 acres. Big enough for it to be profitable, supporting enough produce to sell at farmers markets and eventually as a CSA (community supported agriculture), and a large flock of laying hens (and guinea fowl for comedy). But not so big that it was unmanageable. We intentionally moved to Iowa two years ago to live close to my family, so if we moved to the country it needed to be 20 miles or less from our current home. Oh, and the big one, price. We are a family of 6 living on a public school teacher salary, so price was a big factor in when we'd move to the country.
And then out of seemingly nowhere Emerson found a farm listed on a real estate website. It was 7.9 acres, 3.5 acres tillable land, with the rest yard, pasture, and orchard. A big, old farmhouse in need of some serious reimagining and dedicated remodeling, roughly the same size and layout as our current home (with a gorgeous front porch!) and it was 19.5 miles from our current home. And it was the estate of a man recently deceased, whose heirs were only interested in quickly unloading the property, so the house was within our price range.
And I still didn't want to jump in at first. My dad is a former general contractor turned real estate investor. I know what it takes in time, effort and money to fix up a fixer-upper in as desperate need of fixing up as this house is. This is the difference between my husband and I. I am the dreamer. I'll dream big dreams about all aspects of our lives. Long have a called my husband the "Dream Squasher". He's so practical and stable. He doesn't make big decisions without counting the cost. He knew full well the material and immaterial cost of choosing this farm, and he could see that it was worth it, when I could see was the fear of the what-ifs. He didn't push or demand anything of me. In his steady way he just waited me out. It took a very deliberate choice on my part to not let my fear of the unknown future stand in the way of the realization of his dreams. Then faster than I imagined it would be we were in a lawyer's office signing the papers to our new home. Our dream home. Our big ol' farmhouse on 7.9 acres of land within 20 miles of our current home.
It has been a very demanding 2 months. There is SO much work to be done on the house and property. The downstairs has been gutted. New wiring is being run throughout the house. There is no move in date in sight. There are 4 out buildings that have been demolished by age and disuse and are just waiting to be cleared away, with another leaning so hard from a recent storm that only the adjacent trees are keeping it erect. The new school year started for Emerson shortly after closing on the house, so he has been working full-time and then plugging away at the house on the evenings and weekends, in addition to maintaining our current market garden and selling at the farmers market twice a week. I'm desperate to help out, but with the four kids, and especially Thaddeus who needs so much right now, it just isn't practical for me to go out to work on the house. So I've been lonely and frazzled during the times that Emerson is usually here, but now isn't. There have been many times over the past few weeks where I've been thinking of the lines from the song "Thank Goodness" from the musical Wicked. Glinda sings, "It's strange, but it seems that getting your dreams is a little, well, complicated." And I've focused on the hard.
So on Sunday, as we sang, "This is my resurrection song." And my weary heart asked, "Is it? Am I living the resurrection?" The Holy Spirit brought our farm to my mind and spoke to my heart. Of course this is hard, if bringing something back from the dead was easy then it wouldn't be a miracle. The house is decrepit. The out buildings are kindling and ruble. The fruit trees and vines are over grown and the ground is fallow and neglected. This farm was left for dead. And we are doing the hard work of resurrection. We are breathing new life into a forgotten and neglected place. We are intentionally making it a place not just of new life, but a place that will produce life sustaining crops.
To my weary heart the Spirit whispered, "Yes, Child. Beloved, I'm giving you the opportunity to practice resurrection in your new home. I know it's hard and scary and that has caused doubt over the choice to move to plant a root in your heart, but I'm with you. Following the dreams I plant in your heart, and living out your calling is aways worth the cost. Breathe my breath of new life into this home and land. You are living out the resurrection. See the truth of that, and dedicate yourself to pursuing that goal as you press forward. Make your life in your new home a living testimony of my resurrection."
I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection of the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus too hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider my yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. -Philippians 3:10-14
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Just Another Manic Monday
Sitting here at the kitchen table and trying to make school happen around me. Which this morning, like most mornings, means getting last night's dinner dishes (need to work on this!) and the breakfast dishes off the table and at least to the sink if I haven't yet emptied the dishwasher. Then cleaning the gunk off the table so the school books don't get sticky. I think the thing I'm most looking forward to about the new house is a separate room for school work. Having the dining room double as a schoolroom is getting old. Anyways, hopefully the baby isn't screaming from exhaustion at this point and I'm able to take him up for a morning nap, and hopefully that nap will last longer than 30 minutes. Because now I try to get as much seat work as possible finished with the girls before he wakes again. Seems simple enough, but there are so many variables. Most notable is the 2 year old wild man who is desperate to sit at the table with the big girls, but has not yet learned to consistently manage his personal volume levels. While he has gotten much better at his coloring and scissoring skills over the past few weeks, and has now lost scissoring privileges for cutting through his sister's schoolwork, it is his volume that causes the most problems at the homeschool table. Biggest sister has concentration problems during solitary, quiet moments. A single math worksheet takes an interminable amount of time to complete when she is distracted externally. Little sister knows this, and so will inevitably draw something in her journal about Big Sister in a deliberate attempt to rile her up. Anxiety is the all supreme distraction for high strung firstborn. This morning we tried lavender oil and five minutes of intense trampoline jumping to calm her enough to concentrate. Even so Little Sister had finished her math, handwriting and journal and had gone outside with the Wild Man, and Baby was up from his nap before the single math worksheet was completed this morning. I keep banking on the separate schoolroom space addressing this distractability issue, but sitting here writing it all out makes me think that a more drastic scheduling shift is what will help most. I think instead of trying to make "school" happen around me I need to rephrase that first sentence and focus on trying to foster an enviroment where learning happens around me.
The primary reason we chose to homeschool was to allow our children to be educated an environment where their unique learning styles and individual needs could be met in order to foster a lifelong love of learning. All too often I concern myself with making sure they are being homeschooled rather than focusing on the learning. A good self check this morning. Who knew even I could learn something in the midst of this chaos. His grace is good. His love is unfailing. And we press on, clinging to joy.
The primary reason we chose to homeschool was to allow our children to be educated an environment where their unique learning styles and individual needs could be met in order to foster a lifelong love of learning. All too often I concern myself with making sure they are being homeschooled rather than focusing on the learning. A good self check this morning. Who knew even I could learn something in the midst of this chaos. His grace is good. His love is unfailing. And we press on, clinging to joy.
Monday, September 15, 2014
Still Chaos, Searching for Joy
The chaos makers have doubled in our house. Two sweet little boys have been added to our girls, who are growing up far to fast. We've moved to Iowa, and are preparing to move again. A close move, to our dream farm in Illinois, but another moved none the less. The thought of getting my house clean enough to sell overwhelms me. Oh, and we're a homeschooling family now. Going on our third year. Weird. When did that happen.
Honestly, trying to sum up over two years of life since the last post has been the biggest motivation to continue my pattern of procrastination in actually writing. Do I even try to sum things up? Do I just ignore the gaping expanse of time and the breadth of life that has filled that time and take up writing like I never stopped? Or should I just create a new blog. New site, new name, pretend this one never existed. That I never failed to maintain it. Ah, there it is. The underlying, ever-present, truest reason that I haven't written. Failure. And all the shame, and embarrassment, and fear that goes along with it. Looking at how long it's been since I've written honestly just makes me feel like a failure. I mean I didn't even document the remainder of our adoption! Or the fact that I just gave birth again 15 weeks ago. We've doubled our children and lived through some crazy wonderful life and not a line was written.
Then, when I think that I've finally gained the confidence to start writing, I read through what I had written in the past, and the sense of failure rips through me again. Reading through my past posts I feel a sense of recognition. Oh, yes, I remember that girl. She had so much faith and hope and joy. I miss her.
Life is funny that way. In my head I still see myself as I was back in college, but that was 10 years ago, and in so many ways I'm not that person anymore. I'm not the same person I was 2 years ago. The things I went through then have changed me into who I am now, for better and worse. And I'm starting to see that the sense of failure that continues to plague me often arises from trying to live up to whatever idealized version of myself I used to imagine I would be at the life stage I'm in now. Don't get me wrong, I still blow it and sin on a very regular basis. My failures are not completely of the imaginary ideals I've not lived up to. But the thing that Jesus has really been speaking to my heart most over the past few months is that he doesn't condemn me. I've been clinging to Romans 8:1, "Therefore there is now NO condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." And this theme continues ot fill my mind and heart as I read through The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. That Jesus expects me to fail even more than I expect it of myself, and yet loves me without reservation or condemnation reassures my soul and restores my joy. And as for feeling shame over imaginary failure to meet self-imposed ideals, I'm letting that go. And I'm sure I'll pick it up again, but right now, and again, and as many times as it takes, I'm choosing to lay that down. I am who I am right now, and that is someone desperately loved by God, exactly as I am. So who cares if I haven't written in over two years. What a silly thing to feel self-concious about! So I'm writing now, in the midst of my chaos, as an active way of choosing to live in joy instead of defeat.
Honestly, trying to sum up over two years of life since the last post has been the biggest motivation to continue my pattern of procrastination in actually writing. Do I even try to sum things up? Do I just ignore the gaping expanse of time and the breadth of life that has filled that time and take up writing like I never stopped? Or should I just create a new blog. New site, new name, pretend this one never existed. That I never failed to maintain it. Ah, there it is. The underlying, ever-present, truest reason that I haven't written. Failure. And all the shame, and embarrassment, and fear that goes along with it. Looking at how long it's been since I've written honestly just makes me feel like a failure. I mean I didn't even document the remainder of our adoption! Or the fact that I just gave birth again 15 weeks ago. We've doubled our children and lived through some crazy wonderful life and not a line was written.
Then, when I think that I've finally gained the confidence to start writing, I read through what I had written in the past, and the sense of failure rips through me again. Reading through my past posts I feel a sense of recognition. Oh, yes, I remember that girl. She had so much faith and hope and joy. I miss her.
Life is funny that way. In my head I still see myself as I was back in college, but that was 10 years ago, and in so many ways I'm not that person anymore. I'm not the same person I was 2 years ago. The things I went through then have changed me into who I am now, for better and worse. And I'm starting to see that the sense of failure that continues to plague me often arises from trying to live up to whatever idealized version of myself I used to imagine I would be at the life stage I'm in now. Don't get me wrong, I still blow it and sin on a very regular basis. My failures are not completely of the imaginary ideals I've not lived up to. But the thing that Jesus has really been speaking to my heart most over the past few months is that he doesn't condemn me. I've been clinging to Romans 8:1, "Therefore there is now NO condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." And this theme continues ot fill my mind and heart as I read through The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. That Jesus expects me to fail even more than I expect it of myself, and yet loves me without reservation or condemnation reassures my soul and restores my joy. And as for feeling shame over imaginary failure to meet self-imposed ideals, I'm letting that go. And I'm sure I'll pick it up again, but right now, and again, and as many times as it takes, I'm choosing to lay that down. I am who I am right now, and that is someone desperately loved by God, exactly as I am. So who cares if I haven't written in over two years. What a silly thing to feel self-concious about! So I'm writing now, in the midst of my chaos, as an active way of choosing to live in joy instead of defeat.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Holding Steady and Moving On
We're still holding steady at #20. I realized a few days ago that we passed the 11th month mark on the wait list over a week ago. WOW. Time flies even as it drags on.
Last summer I began to feel an itching desire that, quite truthfully, I never expected to ever feel. Out of the blue I decided that I could live with moving back to Iowa. I told that silly voice in the back of my mind to be quiet, for that has never been a part of our plans. After a few weeks this thought continued to buzz in my mind and I finally told Emerson. We began to explore what that kind of move would mean for us and grew in our confidence that what we were both feeling was the Lord's leading as our ambiguous dreams became refined and reshaped.
As we began to look toward the future, the timeline continued to be fuzzy because of, well, this other pretty huge life decision we had made and were in the process of realizing. Fear nestled deep in my heart about what moving would mean for our adoption. We had come so far, invested so much of ourselves, had seen God work so clearly in beautiful ways, for me to even consider messing with all that. So in his gentle goodness, God gave us a nudge. Not the type of nudge I really felt inclined to embrace, but an affirmation that the time to move is in the quickly approaching summer.
What I really didn't want to mess with was our home study. So much time, so much paperwork, so much scrutiny. Turns out, home studies are only good for a year and have to be updated anyways, so well, we did all the paperwork, again (though not as much), a few weeks ago. But this is actually a really good thing, because the more complete our paperwork is here in Missouri, the less time and expense it will be to have it updated again in Iowa. Also, as we began going through our home study update process our social worker informed us that the agency recommends that families not move for 6-12 months after bringing their child home. Which totally makes sense seeing how pretty much everything in their life has been altered and changing things again too quickly could disrupt their forming of attachments to our family. As I wrote in the last post, the time estimates have increased and we likely won't have our son home until next winter. So basically if we don't move before, we won't move for a while. Which makes me think, maybe God is giving us an opportunity to be rooted in a community before bringing him home.
And so we're preparing to move and God is giving us bigger dreams that we've had for a long time as we look forward to establishing a new life in Iowa. Emerson is applying for teaching jobs and we'd appreciate prayers for encouragement during this time of waiting to be wanted by a district. Looking for a home is taking a backseat until we know what town he'll be teaching in.
I was having a day of feeling sorry for myself when so many families have their kids home from Ethiopia and we are still waiting and why didn't we start the process sooner or take less time with our paperwork etc...
When I had a bit of an epiphany in the shower (because, hey, where else does a stay-at-home mom have a quiet moment to think?!) There were slightly less than 2,000 kids brought home from Ethiopia last year. And usually I get all mopey like, "All those kids! So many, but not ours..." When I realized, that is not very many. It's a few hundred less than the year before and when compared to the population of the United States is hardly a fraction of a percent. In fact, that's not even half the population of my hometown. But you know what? Of those few kids scattered throughout the whole country one just came home to a family in my tiny hometown, a family that goes to my parents church and has even been to Family Camp at Hidden Acres. I am convinced God is preparing a community for us in Iowa, and grace upon grace, our son will grow up in Iowa with another little boy adopted from the same country in Africa.
Last summer I began to feel an itching desire that, quite truthfully, I never expected to ever feel. Out of the blue I decided that I could live with moving back to Iowa. I told that silly voice in the back of my mind to be quiet, for that has never been a part of our plans. After a few weeks this thought continued to buzz in my mind and I finally told Emerson. We began to explore what that kind of move would mean for us and grew in our confidence that what we were both feeling was the Lord's leading as our ambiguous dreams became refined and reshaped.
As we began to look toward the future, the timeline continued to be fuzzy because of, well, this other pretty huge life decision we had made and were in the process of realizing. Fear nestled deep in my heart about what moving would mean for our adoption. We had come so far, invested so much of ourselves, had seen God work so clearly in beautiful ways, for me to even consider messing with all that. So in his gentle goodness, God gave us a nudge. Not the type of nudge I really felt inclined to embrace, but an affirmation that the time to move is in the quickly approaching summer.
What I really didn't want to mess with was our home study. So much time, so much paperwork, so much scrutiny. Turns out, home studies are only good for a year and have to be updated anyways, so well, we did all the paperwork, again (though not as much), a few weeks ago. But this is actually a really good thing, because the more complete our paperwork is here in Missouri, the less time and expense it will be to have it updated again in Iowa. Also, as we began going through our home study update process our social worker informed us that the agency recommends that families not move for 6-12 months after bringing their child home. Which totally makes sense seeing how pretty much everything in their life has been altered and changing things again too quickly could disrupt their forming of attachments to our family. As I wrote in the last post, the time estimates have increased and we likely won't have our son home until next winter. So basically if we don't move before, we won't move for a while. Which makes me think, maybe God is giving us an opportunity to be rooted in a community before bringing him home.
And so we're preparing to move and God is giving us bigger dreams that we've had for a long time as we look forward to establishing a new life in Iowa. Emerson is applying for teaching jobs and we'd appreciate prayers for encouragement during this time of waiting to be wanted by a district. Looking for a home is taking a backseat until we know what town he'll be teaching in.
I was having a day of feeling sorry for myself when so many families have their kids home from Ethiopia and we are still waiting and why didn't we start the process sooner or take less time with our paperwork etc...
When I had a bit of an epiphany in the shower (because, hey, where else does a stay-at-home mom have a quiet moment to think?!) There were slightly less than 2,000 kids brought home from Ethiopia last year. And usually I get all mopey like, "All those kids! So many, but not ours..." When I realized, that is not very many. It's a few hundred less than the year before and when compared to the population of the United States is hardly a fraction of a percent. In fact, that's not even half the population of my hometown. But you know what? Of those few kids scattered throughout the whole country one just came home to a family in my tiny hometown, a family that goes to my parents church and has even been to Family Camp at Hidden Acres. I am convinced God is preparing a community for us in Iowa, and grace upon grace, our son will grow up in Iowa with another little boy adopted from the same country in Africa.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Still 20
So we're still #20, or we miss counted when referrals were coming in this fall and have just become #20. Either way, I'm starting to hate the #20 as much as I hated the #30. Bleech. Waiting is hard. But God is good. His plans for me are good. His timing is perfect. We found out last week that the estimated wait times for families at the top of the referral list (which I guess we are since I'm certain the list has well over 100 families waiting since it was at 90+ back in October) has changed from 12 months to 15-18 months. The agency official estimated wait time has always been 12 months, but when we submitted our paperwork to get onto the list back in April families were getting their referrals after only 6-9 months. We started hoping for a referral by Christmas. We were #20 at Christmas. That was 2 months ago. So we started hoping for February. Still 20. Now our agency says that instead of hoping for a referral in April (12 months) we should adjust our expectations again to sometime between July and October. That was sad, hard news. My plans seemed so good! My plans didn't include having to update our home study and reapply to USCIS. My plans were simple, straightforward. Not this twisting path of hope and disappointment. I'll confess this though - my faith would be so much smaller and weaker had I not been led on this winding path. These are the verses that have been speaking to my heart recently:
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that they testing of your faith develops PERSEVERANCE. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. - James 1:2-4
Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who he has given us. - Romans 5:3-5
Of course this journey we've been on for a year and a half is about adopting a son from Ethiopia. But I'm learning that when God's Spirit calls you to something its rarely ever just about the thing. Remember that saying, "The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing, and the main thing is Jesus."? It's true. I've learned so much about orphans and God's heart for adoption, and the spiritual realities of our sonship as we've been adopted into the family of God through faith in Jesus. But I'm also learning much about myself, my faith, my relationship with Jesus, the fears that I think I keep hidden.
God is good. His plans for me are good. His timing is perfect. It is his love, not any number on a list or estimated wait time, that pours hope into my heart. Hope anchored to Christ never disappoints.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that they testing of your faith develops PERSEVERANCE. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. - James 1:2-4
Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who he has given us. - Romans 5:3-5
Of course this journey we've been on for a year and a half is about adopting a son from Ethiopia. But I'm learning that when God's Spirit calls you to something its rarely ever just about the thing. Remember that saying, "The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing, and the main thing is Jesus."? It's true. I've learned so much about orphans and God's heart for adoption, and the spiritual realities of our sonship as we've been adopted into the family of God through faith in Jesus. But I'm also learning much about myself, my faith, my relationship with Jesus, the fears that I think I keep hidden.
God is good. His plans for me are good. His timing is perfect. It is his love, not any number on a list or estimated wait time, that pours hope into my heart. Hope anchored to Christ never disappoints.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
So I didn't actually end up blogging two days in a row. Who did I even think I was kidding. While I'm glad that I wrote the last post of updates, I feel like the motivation to write sort of got used up. Now, what I thought was important for me to document has sort of lost its immediacy. Or perhaps it is because winter has finally arrived to Missouri in this second week of January. Alas...
I guess what I really want to write about was the duration of my longing for a son. I know. This blog is totally a bummer. Longing... waiting... longing... Which gets me to thinking about the relativity of time. We've been waiting nearly 9 months. I was engaged longer than that. Oh that wedding day seemed so decidedly out of reach. And then along the way I blinked and opened my eyes to 7.5 years of marriage, a five year old and a 2.5 year old.
I was thinking the other morning about children. Specifically, my desire to become a mother. Six years ago this month Emerson and I boarded a plane for Skopje, Macedonia. My heart was nearly torn to shreds with longing. I had just miscarried our first child. My arms ached for a child. And while in Macedonia I began to pray, earnestly, fervently, face to the floor with tears streaming down my face that, like Hannah, God would hear the longing of my heart and give me a son. (1 Samuel 1) I prayed that, like Barnabas, he would be a son of encouragement (Acts 4:36)
About 9 months later we welcomed our daughter Angalina into the world. God had heard my prayers and indeed answered them in his own perfect way. Juniper arrived 2.5 years later. Honestly we were a bit surprised by the emergence of another baby girl, but thrilled. Our God gives good gifts. When we started the adoption paperwork chase a little over a year ago it seemed most likely that we would wind up with a boy. That was just the statistical odds at the time. By the end of our paperwork journey those odds had flipped and we had a decision to make. Do we specify a gender preference (which honestly, just saying "preference" didn't sit well) or do we remain open to the quickest placement of either gender. At first we left our option open. Ane persisted in adamantly proclaiming her desire for a brother. We reasoned and prayed and sought godly counsel. Is making our preference known an act of wresting with God for control of our fate, or just another act of obedience, following the path he laid out for us? In the end we decided to just go for it and request a boy. We have all felt such peace over this decision. Ane prays daily for her brother. Such heart-felt, innocent, faithful prayers for him.
And as I was praying for him yesterday it struck me. I have not been waiting 9 months for my son. I have been waiting 6 years. Ever since first giving voice to the desire of my heart for a son, an encourager to me. God is answering my prayer, but he has invited me to participate with him in realizing the desire of my heart. This road has been fraught with doubt, discouragement, distraction and fear, but in this journey I have deepened intimacy with the One who calls me to adventure by his side. And isn't that his greatest gift? The gift of his abiding presence as we seek to follow him. I truly believe that God speaks to us through the desires of our hearts. For when we seek the fulfillment of those desires in Him it is He Himself whom we will always find.
As a teenager I came across a quote written in the dorm room of a friend with whom I stayed on a college visit. It stuck me as powerful and I wrote it down and it hung on my mirror until my parents sold our home after I had moved out. It said:
My goal is God Himself.
Not joy, nor peace, nor even blessing,
but Himself, my God.
All our hearts long for find fulfillment in Him. My son, the one for whom my heart cried out with longing, has been found in this journey of obedience and communion with my Savior.
I guess what I really want to write about was the duration of my longing for a son. I know. This blog is totally a bummer. Longing... waiting... longing... Which gets me to thinking about the relativity of time. We've been waiting nearly 9 months. I was engaged longer than that. Oh that wedding day seemed so decidedly out of reach. And then along the way I blinked and opened my eyes to 7.5 years of marriage, a five year old and a 2.5 year old.
I was thinking the other morning about children. Specifically, my desire to become a mother. Six years ago this month Emerson and I boarded a plane for Skopje, Macedonia. My heart was nearly torn to shreds with longing. I had just miscarried our first child. My arms ached for a child. And while in Macedonia I began to pray, earnestly, fervently, face to the floor with tears streaming down my face that, like Hannah, God would hear the longing of my heart and give me a son. (1 Samuel 1) I prayed that, like Barnabas, he would be a son of encouragement (Acts 4:36)
About 9 months later we welcomed our daughter Angalina into the world. God had heard my prayers and indeed answered them in his own perfect way. Juniper arrived 2.5 years later. Honestly we were a bit surprised by the emergence of another baby girl, but thrilled. Our God gives good gifts. When we started the adoption paperwork chase a little over a year ago it seemed most likely that we would wind up with a boy. That was just the statistical odds at the time. By the end of our paperwork journey those odds had flipped and we had a decision to make. Do we specify a gender preference (which honestly, just saying "preference" didn't sit well) or do we remain open to the quickest placement of either gender. At first we left our option open. Ane persisted in adamantly proclaiming her desire for a brother. We reasoned and prayed and sought godly counsel. Is making our preference known an act of wresting with God for control of our fate, or just another act of obedience, following the path he laid out for us? In the end we decided to just go for it and request a boy. We have all felt such peace over this decision. Ane prays daily for her brother. Such heart-felt, innocent, faithful prayers for him.
And as I was praying for him yesterday it struck me. I have not been waiting 9 months for my son. I have been waiting 6 years. Ever since first giving voice to the desire of my heart for a son, an encourager to me. God is answering my prayer, but he has invited me to participate with him in realizing the desire of my heart. This road has been fraught with doubt, discouragement, distraction and fear, but in this journey I have deepened intimacy with the One who calls me to adventure by his side. And isn't that his greatest gift? The gift of his abiding presence as we seek to follow him. I truly believe that God speaks to us through the desires of our hearts. For when we seek the fulfillment of those desires in Him it is He Himself whom we will always find.
As a teenager I came across a quote written in the dorm room of a friend with whom I stayed on a college visit. It stuck me as powerful and I wrote it down and it hung on my mirror until my parents sold our home after I had moved out. It said:
My goal is God Himself.
Not joy, nor peace, nor even blessing,
but Himself, my God.
All our hearts long for find fulfillment in Him. My son, the one for whom my heart cried out with longing, has been found in this journey of obedience and communion with my Savior.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
It's been a long time since I last wrote. Wow, I just checked the date of my last post. It's been a really long time. Things, amazing things, have happened regarding our adoption over the past few months of blog silence. I keep telling myself that I'll write when something blog-worthy happens. Then when it does, I don't. Now another shift in my heart that I'd like to write about, but I feel so compelled to document all of the ways God deluged us with his grace this autumn as well. Where to begin?!
We spent much of the fall waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Which, honestly we expected to do. I mean, we are on the Waiting Families List. It's what characterizes this stage of the adoption process. The paper chase complete, we wait to be matched with our child. While waiting in itself can be excruciating when one longs for what they are waiting for, waiting without any sign of progress can become demoralizing. This category of waiting was one we had not expected. Families were flying through the list when we started our journey at #42. We moved swiftly to #30. And then held steady for over 3 months. Stuck. Stagnant. It felt like nothing was happening. And yet we fully realize now that so much was happening behind the scenes.
On October 9 we had the tremendous joy of making a day trip to St. Louis to eat lunch at an Ethiopian restaurant with the incredible women in the Ethiopia Program at Children's Hope and other families who had adopted from Ethiopia, or like us were waiting for their children. Grace upon grace, my parents were visiting that weekend and made the trip with us. The food and company was outstanding, but the image that is burnished in my mind is of my two girls playing with a 3 year old boy adopted last year from Ethiopia. My heart swelled as the thought flashed: "This is a glimpse of your future family." Tears still spring to my eyes to remember that sweet moment. Longing. Oh, my longing for my son.
The day was bittersweet for our family too, as we said good-bye to our faithful, and faithfully amazing, social worker, Ashley, who was moving on from Children's Hope. It was a joy to tell her in person just how much she had meant to us, how much we treasured having her hold our hands as our trustworthy guide on this journey.
And still, we waited. Glimmers of progress broke through. We received a wonderful grant from a Missouri adoption grant agency, Kinsman Redeemer. We worked hard for our friends at Buckeye Acres, manning the entrance and painting faces at their pumpkin patch for all five weekends in October.
We were saving up for a new computer, but God sweetly arranged for our pumpkin patch money to go towards bringing our child home when some dear friends gifted us with a brand spanking new computer. What?! Who does that?! Sam and Stephanie that's who. And wouldn't it be just like God to heap blessing and goodness and grace upon us all at once so that we swirl wide-eyed in the vastness of his love? The very day that Stephanie dropped our our new computer was the very first day in over 3 months that we received an email telling us that finally a child had been referred to a waiting family. And just like that we were waiting family #29.
November was filled with birthday parties, family visitors, and many cake orders including this beauty :)
Which I never would have pulled off without the rock star assistance of my remarkably talented sister, Jenna.
The day after my family traveled home to Iowa we received a letter from Show Hope, an adoption assistance organization founded by Steven Curtis Chapman and his wife, Mary Beth. This was the only other grant we had applied too. Our sweet social worker told us we stood a good chance of being awarded at least something from them, based on her experience. I think I sobbed for a full 10 minutes when we opened that letter and saw that we had been awarded more than double the average amount they typically award. Boundless grace. Over the summer I met another adoptive mom who told me, "God funds what he favors." Hallelujah. Amen. The combination of our two grants covers our final payment to our agency. The amount we have saved thus far will get us to Ethiopia and back at least once. We began this journey with wide-eyed faith, fully aware that on our own we were incapable of realizing this dream. From the moment we said yes to this vision of adoption our Heavenly Father has confirmed repeatedly that this dream is his calling on our lives. As we obey he continues to provide.
As I said above. Things, big things, blog worthy things, have been happening. And yet, still we wait, but our wait is getting shorter.
Yep, those beautiful girls standing in front of our chicken pen are holding a sign that says 20.
I had a flash of panic mid-December when I realize that time was running out to renew my passport. Boo for no more smiling in the ID pictures. Alas. I am not in high school any longer. About time my passport reflected that fact. I've also been attempting to arrange for vaccinations. Thanks, Mom, for keeping such a scrupulous shot record for me :) Hopefully I can find a clinic closer than Liberty (1.5 hours away) that will give me a typhoid vax.
I guess that's all the logistical updates I have for now, but this post has become long. Almost as long as my period of blog silence. But I still I'd like to share my thoughts about our coming son. Would posting two days in a row cause my computer to melt down in shock? I think this new one can handle it. So I'll close with this: This is the year. 2012 is the year we meet our son and our family of 4 grows to 5. Hallelujah!
We spent much of the fall waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Which, honestly we expected to do. I mean, we are on the Waiting Families List. It's what characterizes this stage of the adoption process. The paper chase complete, we wait to be matched with our child. While waiting in itself can be excruciating when one longs for what they are waiting for, waiting without any sign of progress can become demoralizing. This category of waiting was one we had not expected. Families were flying through the list when we started our journey at #42. We moved swiftly to #30. And then held steady for over 3 months. Stuck. Stagnant. It felt like nothing was happening. And yet we fully realize now that so much was happening behind the scenes.
On October 9 we had the tremendous joy of making a day trip to St. Louis to eat lunch at an Ethiopian restaurant with the incredible women in the Ethiopia Program at Children's Hope and other families who had adopted from Ethiopia, or like us were waiting for their children. Grace upon grace, my parents were visiting that weekend and made the trip with us. The food and company was outstanding, but the image that is burnished in my mind is of my two girls playing with a 3 year old boy adopted last year from Ethiopia. My heart swelled as the thought flashed: "This is a glimpse of your future family." Tears still spring to my eyes to remember that sweet moment. Longing. Oh, my longing for my son.
The day was bittersweet for our family too, as we said good-bye to our faithful, and faithfully amazing, social worker, Ashley, who was moving on from Children's Hope. It was a joy to tell her in person just how much she had meant to us, how much we treasured having her hold our hands as our trustworthy guide on this journey.
And still, we waited. Glimmers of progress broke through. We received a wonderful grant from a Missouri adoption grant agency, Kinsman Redeemer. We worked hard for our friends at Buckeye Acres, manning the entrance and painting faces at their pumpkin patch for all five weekends in October.
We were saving up for a new computer, but God sweetly arranged for our pumpkin patch money to go towards bringing our child home when some dear friends gifted us with a brand spanking new computer. What?! Who does that?! Sam and Stephanie that's who. And wouldn't it be just like God to heap blessing and goodness and grace upon us all at once so that we swirl wide-eyed in the vastness of his love? The very day that Stephanie dropped our our new computer was the very first day in over 3 months that we received an email telling us that finally a child had been referred to a waiting family. And just like that we were waiting family #29.
November was filled with birthday parties, family visitors, and many cake orders including this beauty :)
The day after my family traveled home to Iowa we received a letter from Show Hope, an adoption assistance organization founded by Steven Curtis Chapman and his wife, Mary Beth. This was the only other grant we had applied too. Our sweet social worker told us we stood a good chance of being awarded at least something from them, based on her experience. I think I sobbed for a full 10 minutes when we opened that letter and saw that we had been awarded more than double the average amount they typically award. Boundless grace. Over the summer I met another adoptive mom who told me, "God funds what he favors." Hallelujah. Amen. The combination of our two grants covers our final payment to our agency. The amount we have saved thus far will get us to Ethiopia and back at least once. We began this journey with wide-eyed faith, fully aware that on our own we were incapable of realizing this dream. From the moment we said yes to this vision of adoption our Heavenly Father has confirmed repeatedly that this dream is his calling on our lives. As we obey he continues to provide.
As I said above. Things, big things, blog worthy things, have been happening. And yet, still we wait, but our wait is getting shorter.
Yep, those beautiful girls standing in front of our chicken pen are holding a sign that says 20.
I had a flash of panic mid-December when I realize that time was running out to renew my passport. Boo for no more smiling in the ID pictures. Alas. I am not in high school any longer. About time my passport reflected that fact. I've also been attempting to arrange for vaccinations. Thanks, Mom, for keeping such a scrupulous shot record for me :) Hopefully I can find a clinic closer than Liberty (1.5 hours away) that will give me a typhoid vax.
I guess that's all the logistical updates I have for now, but this post has become long. Almost as long as my period of blog silence. But I still I'd like to share my thoughts about our coming son. Would posting two days in a row cause my computer to melt down in shock? I think this new one can handle it. So I'll close with this: This is the year. 2012 is the year we meet our son and our family of 4 grows to 5. Hallelujah!
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