Christmas in the waiting...

Sigh.

Hard. Day.

Christmas was tough for me... and though Mark and I didn't want to be a downer on Christmas, I think it was hard on us both. It was as if one could tangibly feel that someone was missing. All morning the kids played (loudly) and we had our traditional big breakfast. As always Thomas had spent the night with us and enjoyed our festive Christmas morning. It all felt so "normal" while feeling so different at the same time. I fought back tears repeatedly and even had to break away a time or two to just cry. It hurts. Christmas in the waiting.

I am still desperately longing to have the balance figured out of living to give and still not second-guessing every purchase. I was thrilled with how "little" the kids got, yet how genuinely excited they were with their Christmas morning. Yet, in all the fun I was remembering how blessed we are, not wanting to miss it for a second... not wanting to forget that our day was full of what over 90% of the world only dream of... plenty of food, Christmas feast (after a huge breakfast), toys, and above all... each other. Family. Break away for tears...again.

It was a great day, don't get me wrong. It was, actually, one of the best Christmases I can remember. This year was full of talking about why Jesus came to begin with all those years ago. Not thinking of Himself or what would be easiest, He came in order to selflessly give. In that, Christmas should be about selflessly giving, not thinking about ourselves, what we want, or what is easiest. All of that really hit me Christmas morning- that He would love me enough to come into this hard, cold, deceitful world in order to ultimately adopt me from it. Amazing.

Fast forward to today... We had our "Christmas" with my sister, her family, my parents, and my grandparents today. It was organized chaos and we wouldn't have it any other way! With ten kids between us (the oldest is 15) it was fun, full of wrapping paper, and a total blast. We were able to celebrate Tia and Garrett's first Christmas in our family and in the US (they are our 6 year old niece and nephew adopted from Ethiopia earlier this year). Sheer fun. Then after most all the gifts were open and each of the granddaughters had opened a soft, cloth doll from Grammie, Mom told me there was one more gift in a hidden bag. She wanted Regan to open it. When she handed it to Regan, Mom said, "Regan, this is for your sister." Tears. Regan pulled out a "brown" doll that matched her own "white" doll. Perfect. In an instant, it made our daughter there with us, celebrated, not forgotten or overlooked. It immediately made it "okay" for me to be grieving that she wasn't home with us, but that we can love on her in the waiting.

So, in the waiting her doll has a new home (and soon so will she!) right here:



Tonight as I snapped the pictures of the doll and Regan I sat on the bed with Regan to chat. We looked through Christmas pictures and videos. She sat up and said, "Video me." I laughed because she is always a star looking for a rolling camera! She said, "No! Really... I have something to say to people." I, again, laughed, thinking she might break out into dancing, singing, or telling some kind of story. But, rather when the red-light flashed she immediately explained about the dolls and how she can't wait to teach her sister English, to have fun with her, and that other people should adopt children because then, more children would have families. She ended her video looking straight into the camera saying, "Thank you." As if she knew others would hear her plea and readily accept. I sure hope so! I will try to figure this blogger thing out and upload the video. As of now, no luck!

So, I am learning to be in the journey, not just on the journey. To be teachable, moldable, and moved by God's compassion on me, on us, as His chosen creation is part of this process. I don't want to miss Him showing me HIM in all the dates, paperwork, finances, letters, signatures, and appointments. He is so faithful to remind me He is seeing and knowing every detail, every tear, and every fear....even through our Christmas in the waiting.

Fresh Paint

Christmas morning at our house is quite likely the loudest place on the block. With four kids, 8 and under, the wonder of it all just comes to a head on Christmas morning when the kids run down the stairs. It's one of my favorite times of the whole year. This year will be equally as wonderful, though it might be a bit different. We have changed so much about our lives over the course of the year, so Christmas was not left out. This year each child could ask Santa for one gift and then they could ask for one gift from Mom and Dad. It has been so great to watch them not question the change even once. They have taken it in stride which has made me so aware of how much of the giving in the past has really been about us, the adults, not about the kids at all. Anyway. Regan asked for her room to be "redone" as her gift from Mom and Dad. We were thrilled about it, knowing the "girls' room" would need a facelift in order to prepare for our Ethiopian princess. So, we took advantage of the snow and ice last week to paint, rearrange, and get the bulk of the room made over. We still have a few details to tackle, but all in all, it is nearly done. As Mark painted the purple on the walls late Wednesday night, I couldn't help but get teary a time or two just thinking about what this room means now and the memories it will hold. With every plan or purchase I have been intentional about thinking in two's. Two of everything. Thursday I painted the wide pink stripe on the walls and again, couldn't help but think about what the "fresh paint smell" represented. It meant a room for one was becoming a room for two, a comforter from the shelf now belonged to our daughter who has likely never had her own bed, own blanket, or own pillow (if a pillow at all). It meant this was no longer "Regan's room," but a room for sisters. We tried to keep Regan out as we completed each step of the room so she could walk in and be surprised. Thursday afternoon after I got her bed moved into place and her tape removed from the walls, she came in and just like Christmas morning she put her hands over her mouth, smiling. She said, "Oh Mom! Thank you for doing this room for us! I just love it! I can't wait to show it to my sister." I grabbed Regan up , sat on her sister's bottom bunk and talked about what all they could do in the room together. It was so special to hold Regan, talk to her about sleepovers with her sister, late night giggles, and playing Barbies in the floor. Regan said, "Mom, you know why I picked pink and purple for the room?" I said, "Um, because you are six and a girly girl?" She grinned and said, "Well, no. Since pink is my favorite color, I am hoping purple is my sister's favorite color. See? This room is the perfect combination." Her words stuck with me. The perfect combination. Yes, it is. Two colors, touching, living there in that one room, looking beautiful and right together. The perfect combination.

Throughout the day I kept being drawn back into the room. My mind wouldn't let it go... there is an empty bed... waiting. I kept going in, straightening those covers, touching the pillow, smelling the paint. Rubbing my hand across the pink and purple thinking, "the perfect combination." Missing her. I don't know her name or her face, but I know I love her, WE love her, and we are eager to have her join our family. She probably has no idea what a pillow sham is, how to fold her clothes in her dresser, or what fresh paint smells like. But, today it is all hers, even then fresh-paint smell. The perfect combination.

No more....

Fatherless.

If I could just leave the cursor flashing after that word and leave it as my post today I would. One simple word. So much impact. When I think about the fatherless of the world it makes my stomach turn a bit. Something in me is stirred to tears at the mere thought. Fatherless.

From a girl with the world's best Dad, being fatherless is so difficult for me for comprehend. With a dad who loves me and has taught me about unconditional love, the mere thought of life without Dad is hard to even allow myself to imagine. To be honest, the idea of being orphaned is something in years past I would have said, "Me? Orphaned? No way." The part of me that likes to paint a rose-colored picture of myself and see myself through eyes of pride and arrogance. The reality is, I, of all people, can relate to being an orphan. Spiritually, I was without hope, without love, without a Father (Psalm 68:5). Fatherless.

I was reminded Sunday night during church that God chose to step out of heaven, put on flesh in the form of Jesus, and come to live among His people, making a way for reconciliation. Making Himself like us, knowing our struggles, temptations, stresses. Unlike us, facing all of this life perfectly. Amazing. Because of His great love for me, for us, He made a way for mankind to know Him, love Him, serve Him, live for Him. I'm so grateful my Dad taught me about my offer of adoption in Christ (Eph 1:5). My adoption into His family changed my life. Fatherless no more.

Fatherless.

It's been what has been on my heart and mind for a few days. I have a daughter living half way around the world fatherless today. She has no idea she is loved, fought for, pursued. She has no idea she has hope, love, a father. Sigh. It often brings about a sense of urgency for me and I become overwhelmed with how far we have to go to get her home. I begin to feel desperate and apprehensive. In those moments I am reminded that our strength is only renewed in waiting on the Lord (Isaiah 40:31)... not paperwork, signatures, money, or approval. Waiting on any of those will deplete my strength. But, waiting on the Lord renews my strength. So, we wait.

But, during that same Sunday night service I was introduced to a passage that has changed my perspective. When I consider as many "what ifs" as my mind will allow regarding our adoption it becomes overwhelming. Not knowing our daughters history, what she has seen or endured, not knowing if she's ever appropriately bonded with anyone in her life makes me wonder sometimes how all that will impact our family and how she will respond to our love. It can make me, as a mom, feel somewhat inadequate. I'm grateful for inadequacy. In it, I must rest in His surplus of adequacy! I was reminded from Hebrews 2: 17-18 that because Christ came, fully God and fully man, He was made human in EVERY way. No matter what our daughter has faced, is facing, or will face, He understands, He has been there, He overcame. Sigh. It has never been and will never be my purpose to fill in all of her hurt. I will try with every ounce of who I am to help her heal in a healthy way, to introduce her to unconditional love, and to introduce her to the One who fully understands and knows her. But, only He can completely heal her and understand where she has been. I am so grateful for Him. I am also grateful she will one day know the feeling of "at least a thousand kisses a day" (Mark's goal for the kids!), the unconditional love of a proud dad, the "cuddle time" just before bed in the recliner, the down-on-one knee open-armed hug from her dad. I can't wait for her to know him and to know HIM. Fatherless no more.

You Bet!

It was so fun yesterday to see the FedEx truck pull up to our house! Not because he was delivering Christmas gifts and not because he was delivering anything "big." But, because he was delivering these: birth certificates for each family member and a copy of our marriage certificate. The last few documents we need to complete this phase of paperwork. So excited! It was even more exciting to greet him at the door and see snow pouring down! Sigh. Never thought I would be so excited to get something in the mail!

As I opened the envelopes and inspected each document to make sure it was indeed what I needed, I fought back tears. One more step: done. Then, as I read each line of our kids birth certificates I recalled their births, filling out the birth certificate forms, and signing each one... full of excitement and joy each time. Another sigh. Somewhere today living in Ethiopia is a little girl without a birth certificate. Without a family that she knows. I can't wait to hold her birth certificate form, see her last name as McKeehan, and sign it as her mother....full of excitement and joy.

The more paperwork I do the more I become aware of all that adoption is about. It isn't just bringing a new child into your home and caring for him/her like your own... It is about them being your own. It is about us, as the adopters, changing and gaining the greatest blessing. As others are talking to us about our adoption they often say, "Wow! I think what you are doing is great" or "It takes someone special to do what you all are doing." Each time I am caught in the moment not sure what to say. I am often drawn, in those moments, back to our adoption Sunday. Just a few weeks ago we had an adoption-emphasis Sunday. In a video about families in our church who have adopted one of the adoptive moms said, "There isn't anything extraordinary about us, but God has done something extraordinary in our lives." YES!!!! That's it! Ordinary Mark and Carrie (with one more batch of papers ready to go). Extraordinary God? YOU BET!

Green Salad and Pink Sheets

Thanksgiving. Just hearing it conjures up so many memories, emotions, sights, and smells. If your family is like our family everybody has "their dish" to bring to the Thanksgiving feast. You know, the one dish you are "known" for. For my Nannie it was green salad. Lime jello salad made in a green plastic, round mold. Yumm! It was always my favorite growing up. Since Nannie went to be with Jesus I was honored to be given her green, plastic mold....everyone knew it was my favorite "Nannie dish" (that and her hot tamales!). So, now, it is my turn to bring green salad to Thanksgiving every year. Gladly! This year is no exception. But, this year is different.

As I was shopping for the ingredients I was reminded of Nannie, her laugh, her smell, her hugs. It's always a little emotional and sentimental for me. But as I walked the aisles of the grocery store yesterday, I couldn't help but think about Nannie, an important part of my Thanksgiving's in the past as well as our Ethiopian daughter, who will be an important part of my Thanksgiving's in the future.

Thanksgiving. Feast. It almost hurts to write. I am so, so thankful for the journey we are on. I am thankful for what and how this journey is teaching me. I am so thankful for four great, healthy kids who love laughter and cuddle time. I am ever so grateful for a loving husband, one that I never have to worry about how he feels about me. What blessings! I am thankful for those caring for our daughter in Ethiopia today. For her birth family and the love they most certainly have for her. I am thankful God has "birthed" in us expanding our family this way. So, so thankful. I am thankful that yesterday I was able to buy crisp, new hot pink sheets and put them on the new mattress on the bottom bunk in the "girls" room. Thankful that I was able to get those sheets because my heart missed her and wanted to feel like I was doing something for her. It was so special for me to put those sheets on her bed and dream about tucking her in one day. Thankful.

Feast. That's where it gets hard. I am continuing to pray as Regan prays that "my sister will feel full today." I want to go into Thanksgiving so grateful for the provisions for us, for the ability we have to be with family and to have the abundance. But, I also want to go into it mindful of the billions all over the globe who have never seen a feast, much less had the opportunity to partake in one. I am so thankful that one day, our beloved Ethiopian daughter will know a Thanksgiving feast when she sees it. One day.

So for now, I will be honored to be the one known for making the green salad. My kids will grow up thinking that was "my" recipe. I will be teaching my girls to make green salad before you know it! In the meantime, I will look at those pink sheets and pray. Looking forward to a Thanksgiving when I can tuck my newest daughter into her very own bed.

"Sunny! Side-up!"

Update: Today Regan came home and put a waded up one dollar bill in the adoption fund jar. When I asked her about it, she said,"Oh, it's the one dollar bill from last week that (insert boy's name here) took back home. He brought it to me today and said he talked to his mom about it and they wanted us to have it." Full Circle.

Original Post:

Our family loves family movie nights. One of our recent favorites is," Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs." There are so many great scenes in the movie, but the one thing I love is being able to watch our kids faces as the ice cream falls from the sky, or cheeseburgers, or meatballs. They love it! It was so special to be able to watch the movie and then say, "Guess what? Did you all know God was the One that actually did make food fall from the sky?" Brycen was familiar with the story of God sending manna from heaven to provide for the children of Israel, but Regan was new to it. Come to think of it, I had never REALLY given the idea of food really falling from the sky much thought until that movie. Then, it occurred to me... God really is the God who provides in the most unlikely of places. I feel confident that none of the Israelites roaming around hungry prayed for God to rain food from the sky. Yet, He chose to provide in a way that would only give Him glory. Man! I love that!

Moving on. This past weekend Mark and I worked tirelessly trying to get our adoption support letters written, addressed, stamped, and prayed over. The whole process we kept reminding one another that God is the one who will provide for this, though we felt like He was calling us to write the letter. We even talked about what a blessing it is to have so many we felt like we COULD send a letter to. Provision. It was all we were thinking of all weekend. Trusting God's provision. Period. As I spent time in prayer today God repeatedly took me to places in Scripture where He provided in unlikely, unexpected ways. I started with the manna and how unbelievable that must have been. Then, I turned and reread the story of Abraham and Isaac. Sigh. God spoke to me in a whole new way about Abraham's perspective. Walking all the way to the sacrificial table, laying his son on the altar, and all the while trusting God was going to provide. Writing and mailing those support letters felt like "our walk" figuratively speaking. We are heading straight for the heart of this little girl, trusting God will make a way with all our might. Then, Abraham spotted a ram caught in the thicket (Genesis 22:13). A sacrifice provided. Amazing. In the unlikeliest of places. Humbling.

I read more about provision in the unlikeliest of places... but rested on the ONE unlikeliest of provisions. That in our depravity and sin God would look at us, make the "walk" to earth, take on humanity, and then be there, caught in the thicket on our behalf. A sacrifice provided. Amazing. In the unlikeliest of places. Humbling.

Fast forward. Last week I picked Regan up in the gym after school and she was so excited as she approached. She was holding a one dollar bill. She said, "Look at what I got today for the adoption jar." I was thrilled at her enthusiasm as I inquired about where she got the money. She told me that a little boy in her class gave it to her. I wasn't at all upset about the situation, but wanted to make sure the little boy wouldn't get in trouble. My concern was that he had the money for something specific and my blonde haired beauty had come away with it. Mrs. Burnette and I spoke with the kids and indeed, he had given her the money, but wasn't sure if his mom would be okay with him giving it away. Regan got really upset and began to cry. I kept reassuring her that she wasn't in trouble. The little boy decided to keep his money, better safe than sorry. Regan was really disappointed. Finally, she said, "I just wanted the money for the jar."

When I got in the pick-up line at school today I saw Regan struggling to walk out, because she had something heavy. I couldn't figure out what it was until she got closer. My eyes filled with tears as I saw it.... a large tupperware bowl full of loose change with a $20 stretched across the top. She was grinning from ear to ear. "Look Mom! This is all adoption money!" We have received a few financial gifts already on this journey and all are appreciated, needed, and overwhelming to me. But, to see Regan walk out with that bowl was simply, PROVISION. Her broken heart over that one "lost" dollar last week was no where to be seen today. Provision. In the unlikeliest of places. I don't want to give the identity away to the one who gave, but the value of the bowl was far more than the $102 contained inside.

So, to steal a line from our beloved, "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs," today's forecast was, "Sunny! Side-up!"

Nesting and Nausea

I don't know how "it" happens. I don't even fully understand when "it" exactly happens. But, I most assuredly know "it" DOES happen. Only in Christ can we experience nesting, sensitive emotions, having waves of nausea, and a need for out-of-the-ordinary naps when we aren't pregnant, but merely expecting. Whew! I still likely have a year or longer in this process and already, WHAM! I feel like I am expecting. The craziest things make me cry. Just today I turned on the bath water for the boys and was drawn to tears. Clean water. Lots of it. My daughter is living today without clean water, a bath with warm water, or her Mom to snatch her up and wrap her in a warm towel when the tub starts cooling off.

I am thankful God does these things in this process. It is confirmation that, yes, we are indeed expecting! It is the same sense of overwhelming excitement that comes when you hear your babies heartbeat for the first time or feel his/her movements inside. A real life, coming in to join our lives. Sigh. I love that He does this. It is the nesting that comes with trying to figure out the practical "where are the clothes going to go?", "what all do we still need?", and "how in the world are we gonna get it all done?" Then, in those moments God has been faithful to whisper into my spirit, "Rest. My yoke has led you here. You are learning from me and I never run out of resources, time, or creativity." Tears. Again.

We have had a fun weekend as a family, sharing much of our time with the mid-Atlantic roadies from Invisible Children. We spent a lot of time talking with the kids about adoption, their sister, and even talking with them about how they will feel when others question our family or ask them about why their sister looks different. Regan has simply astounded me throughout the last few weeks. Her sincerity, excitement, and love for her sister is tangible when she speaks about her. She just lights up. But, when I asked Regan how she would respond if someone asked her why her sister looked different than the rest of us she said, "Um, Mom. Because God made her that way and He thinks she looks just like a McKeehan." Tears. Again. "Yes, Regan, she sure does look just like a McKeehan." Thanks for the reminder. She is teaching me so much. A few Friday's ago on the car ride to school, I asked the kids what they wanted to pray for that morning. Anticipating I would ask about prayer requests, because we always pray on the way to school, Regan said, "Mom, I was thinking, what is my sister doing now?" I noticed the time, tried to calculate the time difference and realized it would've been just after lunch. So I explained it was just after lunch time and she might be napping or playing outside. Regan said, "So, do you think she was able to eat lunch today?" Oh, dear. Fighting back the tears, I replied, "Well, Regan, I hope so. If there was food where she is, I am sure she ate something." Regan requested to pray that morning. Her prayer that day changed how I pray for our daughter living on the other side of the globe. Regan prayed, "God, thank you for our sister. Please help her to feel full today. Help us meet her soon. In Jesus' Name, Amen." Help her to feel full. Tears. Again. In genuine trust, Regan knows that only God can make our sweet, loved daughter feel supernaturally full and she trusts He will. So do I.

When I posed the same question to Brycen about when people question him about the why's with his sister he said, "Mom, she needs a family and we need a sister. That's all." Why do we have to complicate it? "Yes," I replied, "That is all, Brycen. I love your heart for her." He said, "It isn't hard to love her, Mom." Tears. Again.

In all of that, I just feel like I am expecting. Trying to get a dresser for the girls to share, a mattress for her bed (thanks, Michelle!), agency stuff finalized, finding a dining room table that will seat 8, and enjoying every second with these amazing kids I already have can be exhausting. And then I hear, "Rest. I made you to need to rest in these days. Rest, so you know I am sufficient." Tears. Again.

I am so blessed and humbled by this journey, emotions, tears, paperwork, and uncertainties. I am even learning to be thankful for the nesting and nausea!

Innie or Outie?

Belly buttons. Such a funny little part of the human body that we don't give much thought to, unless you have a newborn needing umbilical cord care. We spent much of our day holding Corbin and cuddling on the couch after he spent last night sick. In the cuddle time I was chatting with him, having him tell me his body parts as I pointed to them. When I got to his belly button he began laughing. "Bewey Bu-un," he'd say, laughing all the while. In that moment I was instantly aware of how common our belly buttons are, yet how unique and special all at the same time.

Recently, amid all my adoption reading, I came across a story about a little girl asking questions about her birth mom. Knowing these questions were common the adoptive mom was trying to help the daughter understand. Using her belly button, the adoptive mom was trying to help the child learn that she grew inside her birth mom and the two were attached where her belly button is located. I thought about the concept, finding it an interesting way to explain about having a birth mom and an adoptive mom.

Bewey bu-uns. It hit me today, not for the first time, but more overwhelming than ever before. Our sweet daughter living half way around the world likely has a birth mom who loves, adores, and misses her. Intensely. Just like we long to hold her, love her, teach her, and hear her laugh, so does her birth mom, who has clearly loved sacrificially and selflessly like few people I know. I grieved for her today. I prayed for her today. Sure, there is the chance our daughter was orphaned due to the death of her mom, but it is equally as likely she wasn't. It made my heart hurt for her birth mom.

Today made me so thankful for God's creativity. I have never really sat and considered all that our "innies and "outies" represent. But, I , for one, am glad God left us a visible reminder of the miracle of pregnancy, birth, and the fact that at one time we were totally dependent on someone else for survival. I am thankful that our precious daughter will have a belly button (and a cute one at that!) to remind us and to remind her that she has a mom who gave our daughter the chance at life. In that little circle on her tummy she always has a part of her birth mom, the place where the two of them were uniquely connected like no two other people on the planet. I'm grateful she will have that reminder. I am grateful I will have that reminder. Without that cute little button, she couldn't be our daughter.

As I sat praying for our sweet, loved little girl today it occurred to me that her birth mom already knows her eye color, the texture of her hair, and the shape of her nose. Her birth mom even knows if she has an innie or an outie.

And soon, so will I. And I can't wait!

One of "Those" Days

Today, we welcomed a new niece into the family! She is a beautiful baby with a head full of brown hair, weighing in at a whopping 8lb, 4 oz! Today, we held her. Sweet Baby Brynley. Today Mark and I drove to the hospital alone and chatted about some adoption decisions. We even talked about needing to get a mattress for Regan's bottom bunk bed sometime. Today, God provided it when a friend asked if anyone needed a full mattress. Today.

Today, I came home to house full of women who were finishing up Bible Study while I had been at the hospital. I put the little boys down for a nap after lunch and I sat. Tearful. Today. I know God is already growing me so much through this journey. Today, I was reminded of being a spiritual orphan in need of a Rescuer. Today, I was reminded of the beauty of birth, life, relationships. In the quiet, I sat, grabbed my Bible as I tried to keep the tears from falling, thinking about what our daughter might be doing in Ethiopia, likely preparing for bed. More tears. Today I was reminded that she likely sleeps in a room with many other children, without her own pajamas, bed, or blanket. Today.

Then, I just let them fall... all those tears I have for her. Well, not all of them, but the ones for today. Today, God was so gentle to me through His word as I read. He reminded me of His tender mercies, His holding every tear in a bottle, His provisions, and His unique ability to renew our strength. Today, I read some verses in Isaiah about waiting on the Lord. Not on finances. Not on answers to questions. Not on our time. Not on paperwork. Only in waiting on the Lord can our strength be renewed. Today I needed that reminder.

Today, I want our daughter to know she is loved. Today I want her to feel full. Today I want her to be well. Just like baby Brynley, our little girl is such a gift. I have thought about her all day. Today is just one of "those" days.

IT'S A.... GIRL!!!!

I love being pregnant. Really. What a mystery and miracle, all woven up into one expanding tummy!! Pregnancy amazes me. From start to finish, I am fascinated and captured by the intricate detail it involves. As a labor and delivery nurse for 10 years, I shared in thousands of birth experiences. Some I can remember perfectly, but many of them all run together as just "a days work." But, for every mom and baby I cared for, that mom remembers every detail of her experience. Amazing. Life-changing. Miraculous.

One of my favorite seasons of pregnancy is around the 18-20th week when we enter that small, dark room to confirm the gender of our wee one. So many dreams for him/her already, names swarming in our heads, and mental pictures of what a girl would look like or what a boy would look like. Then, walking out and making the proclamation, "It's a...." as everyone waits with wide eyes. I love being pregnant.

But, over the course of the last few months God has opened my eyes to a different miracle. As I have looked at scripture and really looked at the depravity of mankind, I am taken aback. From the beginning of time God had a plan for the orphan. The Spiritual orphan. He made a way, at all cost, to offer us a chance, a hope, a way out of our natural destiny. In that, He also clearly made and continues to makes a way for the physical, literal orphan. As I look at my biological children, I stand in awe of a God who can do that: take two people and make one person from the joining of the two. But, there is something altogether different about adoption. It is a miracle set apart. It is one thing to be loved unconditionally, entering your family as a welcomed addition. It is an entirely different process to be fought for, pursued, and loved without obligation, but out of sheer love, like Christ has done for us. Amazing. Life-changing. Miraculous.

We initially went into this process preparing to adopt a sibling group. We knew of a family who was unsure about whether their circumstances would allow them to keep their 3 year old twins. We wanted to be ready. Grateful and humbled that God has made a way to keep that family together, we were able to step back, look at our family, the ages of our children, and listen. Listen to what the Holy Spirit was speaking, where scripture was leading, and then to just obey. Mark and I spent several days focusing our prayers regarding the adoption on this one thing: sibling group or one? We were open to the Holy Spirit's leading. As I sat last week reading adoption books... I really wanted to be intentional about hearing what God had to say. As I sat, I repeatedly heard in my spirit, "One at a time." That night as I shared with Mark, he, too, had felt he was being led in the same direction. And, so, it was done. We will likely adopt two, but "one at a time." The reasons are many, but the only reason that matters is that HE said so.

With that (and the fact that we have a daughter who would KILL us if we brought another boy home before bringing her home sister), we are super excited to share: IT'S A GIRL!!!!

"This is what I really want"

This journey, young as it is, has already been so humbling, so emotional, so... did I mention humbling? Over the past couple of years our children have known the ups & downs, certainty & uncertainty, beauty & ashes, that all come with any adoption story. My niece and nephew, Tia and Garrett, have only been with their forever family for nearing 12 weeks. Brycen and Regan prayed and prayed, even cried and cried with us along the journey to make them part of our extended family. Just last weekend as we visited Charlotte, NC to enjoy a few days with Mendy, David, and their 6 kids (Tia and Garrett are the newest additions) I sat and listened to all the cousins playing. Bliss. It brought back all the car ride talks, bedtime chats, and prayers at all hours of the night in the pursuit to bring Tia and Garrett home. Bliss. Oh wait, I think I already said that. Anyway. My heart was drawn to thankfulness, my lips couldn't be quiet as I prayed aloud, "Thank you, God, for this gift of adoption. And, thank you that you are faithful, always making a way for the orphan." Though Mark and I never left our children out of the talks about Tia and Garrett and what was going on paperwork wise, neither did we necessarily think they really understood all that was going on. How wrong we (at least, I) was.

Humbling.... Yes, this process has been so humbling. About 6 weeks ago it was a busy Wednesday night and I was trying to get all the kids loaded into the car for church. I had all the boys in and buckled in car seats. I started the car and waited. Regan. What in the world could possibly be taking her so long? Waited. Then, under my breath wondering where she could be I got out of the car, went inside loudly asking (to put it mildly), "Regan! Where are..." Then, she came around the corner in the kitchen holding something behind her. I could tell she had no idea she was "late."

"Sweety, what are you doing? The boys and I are waiting on you in the car."

"Well, Mom. I was wondering if you and Dad could save this to help bring a brother or sister home." Then, she handed me a quarter. Instant tears. Earlier that day I had struggled with how all this was financially going to come to fruition. In that moment God whispered in my spirit, "I have this, Carrie. Rest." So, our adoption fund officially started that night.

It opened up the perfect opportunity to talk to Brycen and Regan about needing to specifically pray for 2 things: that God would lead us the sweet girl who He wants in our family and that He would provide the money for her to come home.

Mark and I found the perfect glass container to put on the counter for "adoption money." We were overwhelmed to hear that lone, Regan-found quarter hit the bottom of that glass jar. Any of us can add loose change or bills when we want.... it's just a constant reminder to all of us that: (1) There is a sweet girl (I will get to that decision on another post) waiting for us in Ethiopia and we love her profusely without even knowing her name (2) God has to provide to make any of this possible (3) This is going to take sacrifice, not just the financial kind.

It wasn't until a couple of weeks later, I realized how much Brycen, too, "got it." Brycen received a late birthday card with a $20 in it. That night after we got home I overheard Mark say, "Hey buddy, you don't have to put that money in the adoption jar. That money is for you for your birthday. You can spend it and get something you really want for your birthday."

"Dad," Brycen replied back, opening the lid to the glass container, "this is what I really want."

He locked the lid after his crisp $20 hit the bottom, watching it fall the whole way.

Humbling.

"Yes, Ma'am"

Here we go! After talking about adoption for our entire married life (all ten years) and even before we married.... Here we go. Right from the start, we wanted to start this blog in order to share our journey with you. There are so many places I could start. I thought about our first post being about our family's journey through seeking to live with an open hand to others, but we are still learning so much, not nearly having that mastered. Or, I thought about posting about where God has us on another journey: to fight against our flesh in feeling a need to live out the American dream vs. being sold-out Christ followers. Again, we are still so fresh, so "green", so "not there yet." Then, I thought the perfect place would be to start with my journey to Ethiopia this summer, how God opened my eyes to so much, grew passions in me I never knew existed, and how that experience changed my life in a million great ways. But, as it stands, we are here.... praying, reading, listening. Longing to simply be ink poured out for Christ to write our stories how He sees we best fit into His BIG STORY. Are we excited? YES! Do we have fear? YES! Have we lost our minds? YES, I hope so. We decided a year or so ago to lose our minds... to change our idea of success, to stop our selfish ways of thinking, and to try desperately to lose it all to gain His mind. Those decisions are daily and hard. They are a constant struggle and more times than not we revert back to using "our minds." But, in faith, we are trusting, knowing this journey of adoption is part of the story God is writing.

So, I will start here. At the beginning. At the place where the lady on the other end of the phone said, "So, you need 2 copies of these birth certificates and marriage certificate authenticated at the state level for international adoption from Ethiopia?"

To which I simply replied, "Yes, Ma'am."

Here we go.

Thanks for journeying with us.