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!