Dear 2016,
If I could count the number of nights this year I laid in my bed with my heart beating like clapping thunder in a storm while tears stung in my eyes, I am sure we would both be appalled. It wasn't always pretty. We had our fair share of ups and downs and to be honest, the first 8 months feel like a total blur. I was walking around surviving (not thriving), often feeling like I had to squint to see through the fog. The fog often felt thick, like an early morning beside the river with the sun still hiding behind the clouds. Those months taught me that surving doesn't always mean thriving and it also doesn't mean it's okay to sit by while life passes you by. It was in the early part of the year, January through March, that I learned to get on my knees in my war room and to cry out to Jesus. Literally. To be vulnerable with Him. To let Him into the places of my heart that I had walled off... the parts of my heart and mind that I had spent the better part of 5 years pretending I was okay with waiting and being patient. It wasn't until you came along and year 6 stared me straight in the face that I had to get real with Him and with me. I had been angry and frustrated and completely NOT understanding what God was up to. You came, full of hopeful expectation early on, but with every passing day, on my knees, checking my email, and watching the days pass, you made me do a real gut and spirit check. You forced me to my knees with fresh vulnerability and confession and surrender. It was in these early months I dove into understanding true surrender, walking by the Spirit, and calling out my flesh when it reared it's ugly, deceitful head.
When you started, my word for the year was "contentment." God had given me this word at the end of 2015, I believed it was because our schedules, finances, and family fabric were about to change and learning to be content throughout all of it would require Holy Spirit in me. I knew none of that was possible without Him. As days, weeks, and months passed and we were still here, without Tyson, I realized God gave me that word for a far deeper, more profound reason. In His sovereignty, He knew I would need contentment with where I was, even if it wasn't what I had expected or even more, what I wanted. I mentioned to Mark that "contentment" was my word for the year and God was asking me to do what I thought was impossible: be content with Him and Him alone. He wanted to strip me of my misconception that contentment was somehow dependent on circumstances, more specifically, our adoption being finalized. The tears and prayers He and I shared on that closet floor as He gently, yet consistently, led me back to this truth: He is enough. He sees all things, knows all things, and has total control of all things. He reeled me back in when I was certain things were spinning out of control. The first weekend of June stands out about you. June 1st, we received word that our case had been given a negative recommendation by Federal MOWCA (Ministry of Women's and Children's Affairs) in Ethiopia. PUNCH IN THE GUT. This one document was the one thing keeping us from traveling to get our son. Having waited for a recommendation to be given for 8 months at that point, I knew our wait just got harder. I wasn't wrong. That same weekend we traveled to Memphis for a wedding, we celebrated our wedding anniversary, and we also celebrated Corbin's 8th birthday. I had looked so forward to the weekend, knowing we would get to see so many sights and make so many memories in such an iconic city. We were with people we loved and the getaway seemed like it was perfect timing. But, after our June 1st phone call with our agency, I packed our bags and struggled to put one foot in front of the other. I kept finding myself having to surrender multiple times a day yet still found it difficult to speak more than 5 words without tears filling my eyes and a lump forming in my throat. I was honored to celebrate our occasions, birthdays, wedding, and anniversary. But, my heart was broken. Holy Spirit continued to whisper "contentment" to me, showing me so tenderly that He had given me that word as a banner over the year for THESE days, not the days I had expected. He had been before me, giving me the wisdom I would need to face all of your days, starting with this one simple word: contentment.
I would be lying if I said this banner over you made things make more sense. It didn't. You dealt me my most brutal days. I went into the year expecting to travel at the end of January. Each day that passed from then until October 18 when I felt the wheels tuck up into the base of our plane under me, I was forced to rely on what my eyes couldn't see. It was such a sweet gift. Those trying, struggle-filled days in the wait in your early months were what drew me straight in to the arms of Jesus. Time and time again.
As the middle of the year came, summer hit like a cannonball, hot and fast. I spent those days in conversation and fun making memories with all the kids during summer break. All the days weren't easy or fun, but they were all profitable and it wouldn't be until a few weeks later that I would understand just how profitable. It was a Sunday night and I was staying late at church talking with a friend who needed a listening ear. As I headed home, Mark called and I knew something was going on. I walked in the door and saw Mark talking with Hudson. The weight of seriousness hung in the air like a canopy of streamers. It was undeniable. I dropped my purse and ran over to join the conversation. Within 10 minutes I was listening to Hudson pray, confessing his need for a Savior, admitting his sin, and declaring his clear belief that Jesus was the answer to his sin problem. I don't ever want to presume on how or why God does what He does, but as I thought back over the weeks prior to Hudson's decision to follow Jesus, I recollected numerous conversations in those summer months that laid down like pebbles on a path, each one getting him closer and closer to understanding and accepting the gift of salvation. It brought new meaning to days that I had longed to be packing my bags and going to the other side of the globe.
Court closure was marked on my calendar for the beginning of August (August 5th to be exact) like a black cloud. Yet, as that day came and went, I knew our wait would take us to the beginning of October at the earliest. This is when court would reopen and the days of fall drug by slower than molasses, as my Nannie used to say. The only thing that made those fall days ones of clarity and "lighter" was knowing that on August 9th, as I was fighting through the fatigue of the flu and mono, Mark rolled through our door saying, "WE GOT OUR LETTER. WE ARE GOING TO ETHIOPIA!" With no voice and even less energy, I snuck downstairs to that sacred carpet where my tears had fallen countless other times. I took note of the handwritten prayers and burdens and requests I had taped to the walls and knew that THIS day was redefining all the others. THIS day, I knew was set apart with precision and perfect timing. I was reminded as I bowed in awe and relief and gratitude and inconsolable happy tears that He hadn't missed a single day. Not one had been out of His sight or off of His radar. I wasn't sure why we couldn't have gotten our letter four days earlier and traveled before court closed or why we were having to wait an additional two months, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. What mattered is that He was WITH us. He had carried the weight of the wait WITH us. He had caught all our tears in a bottle and He saw them all. He was fully aware of the perfect time and the day that would bring Him the most glory and of all the days on all the calendars through the years, He chose this day in your year. I couldn't help but envision He was celebrating with us, just like a Good Father who gave His children a long-awaited, long-prayed for, long-hoped for answer.
As fall gave way to October, our phone rang on the 13th and we learned we had 5 days to get things in order so we could meet our son on the 19th. WHAT A MONTH. It was also the month that HUDSON WAS BAPTIZED. Before I knew it we were miles in the air and my tears wouldn't stop. Our God had used your days to strip me down to nothing, knowing in my nothingness I would find my "everythingness." He used your days to prepare Tyson for us. Many of the days I was crying at home, longing to hold him and wondering if this whole thing was going to fall apart, God was preparing him for us. Those early months gave him time to have English tutoring, bond with his amazing nannie who taught him about self-discipline and first time obedience, time to learn to trust Menge (our beloved Mengistu) as well as Meselu (our social worker in Ethiopia). It was in your days that Tyson watched other families come and pick up their kids and likely wondered if his turn was next. It was in your weeks and months that Beza and Tyson spent their last days together, after being together in orphanages since Tyson was six months old. It was in these days we formed some of the dearest friendships with other adopting families that we could've never dreamed up on our own. God used your weeks to forge in me a path that pushes aside the façade that I am somehow in control.
Your days were useful to give Tyson more time with friends at his orphanage that will likely forever be etched in his heart.... many we will maintain relationships with. Your year holds some of my most treasured memories of living for 25 days in a third-world country with Brycen, Regan, and Mark. Twenty-five days that changed us, united us, and challenged us both together and individualy. It was in your year I learned so much about myself, my family, my friends, and most of all, my God.
My take away from this year, 2016, is simple: the enemy didn't get all he set out to with you. He set out to utterly destroy me. To devour our family, our marriage, our kids, our finances, our church. He set out to steal our joy, our hope, our contentment. AND HE DIDN'T GET ALL HE WANTED. God used your days to heal me from the inside out, even before our letter came or our son was in our arms. He chose to use your days to prove He will meet with me whenever I come to Him, even in my questions, tears, doubts, and fears. I learned to trust Him in your year more than any other time in my life. Your year is the one when I chose to sit alone more, talk less, and listen more. It was a year of saying "no" more often so that each of my "yeses" could really count. It was in this year that God chose to allow us to meet our precious son for the first time. We were able to hold in our arms, a tangible answer to years of prayer for so many people. Your year was political and hard, intense and growing, trying and grieving, joyful and healing. As I press into and shift my lens toward 2017, my gaze is one of gratitude for the things that really matter, the things that money can't buy, time can't take, and the enemy can't steal. I am thankful for you 2016, for the life-giving, life-changing, life-sustaining things you brought our way, both through struggle and joy. You gave me my hardest days yet. You also graced me with my most joyful days yet. The joyful days were far sweeter because of the dark days we shared. You taught me that the first ray of light that comes after the darkest of night is the one that shines brightest. That first ray of light is enough hope to lean on... but it also represents hope that has been there all along. When God allows it to be visible to us... WHAT A BLESSING. He graces us with the kindest gifts in the most unlikely ways and times. Thank you for teaching me so much. Thank you for holding such tender, remarkable, foundational days for me.
As for you, 2017, I have one word for you:
JOY.
Grateful.
carrie
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