40

It's 1:20am on November 12, 2017.  Today is my 40th birthday. 

I distinctly remember my own mom turning 40 and I recall how, at the time, I felt like I was light years from EVER turning forty.  I mean, good grief, I'd never be THAT old.  Would I?  Tickled.  My mind has been reeling for the last few days nonstop.  So many things I am processing, praying over, desperately seeking His guidance for.  In all of the praying and thinking and pondering, I have grown more and more convinced that aging is such a blessing.  When Mark and I were engaged and newly married, we dreamed about being able to grow old and gray together.  We had lengthy conversations about the trajectory we hoped our life would take together.  Let me be the first to say (tearfully), "Jesus has exceeded our every expectation."  I want to say it louder for the people in the back. In all our youthful dreams, which at the time seemed too big and grand to ever possibly come true we couldn't have dreamed for this life.  It isn't a perfect life saying it louder again for the people in the back.  But, my goodness, it sure is beautiful.  Beautiful isn't always easy and most assuredly not always pretty.  As most anyone knows who has trod on the sod of planet earth very long, beautiful rarely  doesn't always equal pretty.  It gets messy, this life.  It gets heavy.  It also gets wearisome.  But, it never stops being beautiful and it never stops being a life I want to live.  I want to live it well and full with Mark Daniel McKeehan by my side every step of the way.  I want to spend it sharpening these arrows in our quiver so the 5 of them can be shot out farther, faster for the gospel than we could even hope, ask, or imagine.  I'm FULL ON trusting Jesus to do it.   He has been too faithful to me in forty years to stop asking Him for big things now. 
As my 40th has been approaching, it has caused me to think back over the years. If I live to be 120, not one birthday will ever top my 39th.  Ever.  It was the day we arrived home from Ethiopia with Tyson.  now I am literally sobbing.  Jesus, I can't get over You. Even more than having him home was the fact that the night of my 39th birthday all 7 of us were sleeping under the same roof at HOME. It was on my 39th birthday that Hudson and Corbin got to meet and hug and kiss and smother Tyson for the first time.  WHAT A GIFT.  I got emotional talking to someone this afternoon about it right there at the Holiday Hoedown.  In all the wandering wondering, deep valleys, long years, tearful nights... through all of that, Jesus knew.  He knew the mourning would burst forth with great dancing and that doubts would give way to sight.  He knew all along that on my 39th birthday we would land in America, ride down that escalator, and be greeted home by our friends and family who are all basically family. ONLY JESUS DOES STUFF LIKE THAT.  Human minds can't manufacture this sort of thing, try as they might. 
There are a few important (to me) things I wanted to share on this monumental post.  They are in no particular order well maybe they are, but it's too early/late to try to figure out which is which...
First of all, I want to tell y'all something.  At 40, I can whole heartedly confess to you that I am more comfortable in my skin, more acquainted with Jesus, more confident in His faithfulness and goodness, and more grateful for the little things in life than I have ever been before.  So, would I trade going back to insecure, more anxiety-filled days just to be younger? HECK NO.  I am ready to see what Jesus has for us as the next decade unfolds. He can't be unfaithful.  And, that truth alone, as I have chosen to reckon it to be true, has offered me more freedom than a million years living could bring apart from Him.
Secondly, my visits to see Brooke she is my friend who also happens to do my hair might be more frequent as my age as increased though I am most certain there is no correlation between the two, but, there is something really powerful about watching Jesus just flat out come through for you.  In the past three to five years, I can say without hesitation, I have lived my best days and my worst days. Without fail, even when what my eyes could see wasn't the answer I was praying for, Jesus sustained me.  And, when He chose to move mountains and answer, He confirmed in a trillion ways that He had never missed a single prayer, tear, or heartache.  His mercies over me have been so personal, so intentional, and so unmistakeable.  Hear me out on this:  it wasn't all "just" adoption answers.  There were friendship answers, marriages of dear friends that were doomed without a miracle, friends who needed supernatural healing, friends battling infertility for years who were tired and bitter.  I will take a few more visits to Brooke to cover up the glitter any day of the week to be able to live a life that sees Jesus come through in all His glory, parting the sea and making a way where we couldn't see a way.  I am about to have church in here.  Except everyone is asleep and that might wake them up.
Next, fighting off tears, there is something that happened in Ethiopia one year ago this past Friday that I have never written about on the blog.  Last year, it was too raw and personal.  But, as the year has gone by and as our lives have continued to be an open book, I am at peace with sharing it with you now.  It really isn't something most of you will think is a big deal.  No big juicy secret is lurking in here somewhere.  But, it is deeply personal to us and to Tyson's journey.  As most of you know, Jesus parted what felt like the Red Sea for us performed a HUGE miracle for us last
November 10.  You can read about it here.  Everything about the day had gone all wrong from what we could see.  Nothing was working in our favor to get us on  a plane for home before the long weekend.  What seemed to be dead end streets everywhere we turned with mistakes on key documents, wrong birthdays, misspelled names, were actually setting us up to watch THE WAY-MAKER MAKE A WAY.  hindsight is so powerful. Had we had it all together and everything had gone perfectly smooth, we wouldn't have been positioned to let Jesus do what only He could do.  And, what He did was allow us to the be the very first case to EVER that is such a big word have to have corrections made (and translated) to those key documents, have them (after they were corrected and translated) stamped by the MOWA office the office that took a literal year to sign our final document that allowed us to travel, and get said documents back to the US Embassy in time for them to be approved and then have them print Tyson's visa all in one day! I am exhausted just recounting that day.  After we left the US Embassy that morning with great disappointment because of all the mistakes on paperwork (we hadn't seen those documents in advance to notice the mistakes previously) and realizing what kind of delay it would cause, we headed back to the Bethany offices.  We had eaten lunch out and Menge (we love you, Menge!) had asked us if we would mind waiting there while he worked and while we prayerfully waited to hear back from Tesfahun (our attorney who was working powerfully to get all of THAT accomplished in one day).  Menge's thought was, if for some reason they needed us somewhere to facilitate faster processing, we would already be with him and a driver, so we could get there quickly at least as quickly as Addis traffic will allow.  While we were waiting there in the offices, I saw Meselu walking towards us Meselu was Tyson's amazing social worker in Ethiopia.  I noticed she was carrying something in her hand. When she came in she greeted us with hugs and her big, contagious smile.  She knelt down and greeted Tyson in Amharic.  Then, she sat down and her words stopped.  After a lengthy pause she finally said, "I have something for you all."  silence.  eyes down seeming to fight off tears.  Finally, "Maso (Tyson's birthmom) loved meeting you and seeing Tyson.  After she met you yesterday, she asked if I would give you these."  Then, she carefully unfolded two pieces of copy paper.  When she opened them, my eyes filled with instant tears until they couldn't hang onto my eyelids anymore.  Each paper had one of her hands traced on it.  A right one.  A left one.  I looked at the papers and then up at Meselu.  "Oh Meselu.  She wanted him to have her hands."  She quietly nodded, "yes."  I ran my hands across each page, hoping to grab hold of any scent or DNA that might still be embedded in the ink.  Meselu finally said, "She thought of this on her own and wondered if you would be ok with her giving it to him.  She loves him so much."  Yes, she does.  We know this well.  I can't tell you the number of times I have pulled out those folded pieces of paper and ran my hands across them.  Those are the hands that rubbed a growing, pregnant belly, likely sweated in labor giving birth to the son we have in common.  Those hands were the first to hold him, first to stroke his face, first to wipe his tears, first to comfort him.  They are also the hands that likely caught tears as she agonized over what to do with growing financial demands and a son she couldn't feed.  Those are the hands that dressed him, scooped him up, and carried him to an orphanage, knowing it was his only hope to survive.  Those hands are full of bravery.  Courage. Hard work. Pain.  Love.  As we have recounted each day what we were doing a year ago, November 10th was that beautiful day that wasn't pretty.  My heart and mind have been missing her so much the past few days.  I watch Tyson reading or laughing, or riding his bike. Or I hear him singing praise music in the car or I watch him learn something new and I think of her.  She wouldn't believe her eyes if she could see him.  When I think back over what she wanted most for Tyson, I can't help but think she would be so proud of him.  If she could, I know she would wrap her arms around him and then, like I watched her do, she would touch his face.  With her hands.
Lastly, I want you to know that when the gray hairs come go see Brooke,  don't wish them away.  For heaven's sake get them covered up, unless of course you have beautiful gray, but don't wish them away.  If you, too, dreamed of living long enough to watch your children grow up or to be able to travel to new places or to see a special niece or nephew graduate... whatever it is that you fixed your gaze on long ago, if the Lord has allowed you to see that thing through- then Praise Him! We set our gaze on growing old and gray together, didn't we, Babe?  And, here at the ripe old age of 40, with gray  hairs coming faster than me or Brooke can keep up with, the Lord is blessing us with seeing that dream come true.  What a blessing:  to be healthy enough to be an active mom to many and to watch them grow up into amazing people while being married to their smokin' hot dad!  Yep, 40, you ain't got nothin' on me!

grateful.
carrie 

GOTCHA DAY

I woke in the night and glanced at the clock.  3:11am.  I quickly in a sleepy stupor did the math.  10:11am in Ethiopia.  It was official.  Asnake Haile has been Tyson Asnake McKeehan for 365 days and one hour. And, all over again, I am drawn to ceaseless praise.  Reminiscing back over that remarkable morning and day through pictures and blog posts takes me straight back to the third floor of the Ordinary Hero Guesthouse. This was the day Jesus ordained, when He laid the foundations of the earth, to complete what He started in our adoption of Tyson.  Tangible faithfulness. I can instantly go back to waking that morning before the alarm, snapping a quick picture out our window (you can see on my Instagram feed from that morning).  The caption with the picture were the words I couldn't shake: This is the day the Lord has made.  Let us rejoice and be glad in it.  The morning was fairly overcast, but quite clear for Addis.  The smog over the city sits like a think blanket over the busy streets nearly all the time.  The stillness of those early hours took my breath away.  The same One who created the landscape stretched out so beautifully before me was the same One who had heard our prayers and petitions.  The mountains in the foreground were particularly stunning that Tuesday morning as I pondered over how many mountains the Mountain Mover had, indeed, moved.  I couldn't take a step without batting away tears.  I still can't get over how Jesus met us right there in that linoleum-floored room of the guesthouse.  He wasn't just completing our adoption, He was building our faith and doing supernatural miracles for His glory's sake.
 As we walked out of courtroom 106 and bound down the old wooden staircase of the courthouse with every emotion from joy, relief, disbelief, to overwhelming gratitude.  It was as if we could literally feel the enemy's anger and disgust at the whole situation.  Nothing could've prepared me for the instant tears out of sheer relief.  Jesus, You do all things well.  If you care to read about our day on October 25, 2016, you can do so here.  On this side of the moved mountains it is fascinating to sit down, be still, and recall His presence in every detail.  It's far easier in the shadow of the Mountain to look back and see Him even in the uncertain, hard, painful days.  One year ago yesterday (you can read about it here) we received and humbly tearfully watched Tyson's Lifebook.  Since that day, Tyson has watched some of it on his own.  We haven't introduced him to the one with all the details of his past just yet, but he loves watching him play at the orphanage with his friends brothers I don't know which word to use friends who were like brothers.  About 4 months ago he was watching the video and when his nannie started speaking (in Amharic, obviously), Tyson looked up at me and said, "What is she talking about?  Is she speaking Spanish?"  Sweet boy.  He literally only remembers a few words.  On that same day in Ethiopia that we received those priceless videos, we were walking through so many lasts.  Tyson was living out his last days and night behind that green gate.  Staring down the barrel of last hugs and words with beloved friends and nannies, last night sleeping in an orphanage, last night wondering what it would feel like to have a family, and his last night to dream about what it would be like to drive outta that same green gate for the very last time.  Just Saturday as we sat at the Ethiopian restaurant Tyson told Regan about a stack of blue plastic chairs that stay stacked in a corner of his orphanage.  There is one random red chair stacked amongst them.  That red one was his favorite and he "sometimes shared it with other people."  The memories he has of his life before us are real and important and valuable.  We love learning and listening to everything he recollects.  Even if it is as simple as that special red chair. 
Back to court day last year... I am not sure I have ever quite literally felt the prayers of other people.  However, sitting there waiting to enter that courtroom and walking out as an official family of 7, I knew we were being carried and held by our gentle Father who was hearing the cries of our friends and families on our behalf.  The black ink of the judges signature, indicating he approved our adoption, has long since dried.  What hasn't faded, however, is the authority of that signature across the page.  It's still final.  It might've taken a long time to press in, stretch, grow, question, doubt, cry, pray, believe, and trust in order to get to that room, but once there, it was the judges name over the documents that made an orphan, a son.   In the end, that is all that mattered.  Makes me humbled all over again to consider the roads and paths we take questioning, doubting, crying to finally get to the place where the Judge sits.  His door is open and He is waiting.  Once we walk in and acknowledge Him, His signature signed in the blood of His Son across our lives is really all that matters in the end. We enter as orphans, we leave as son and daughter. We walked out of that dingy-walled, purple-carpeted room different than we had entered: complete. 
As the hands of time have spun at break-neck speed, Tyson has changed in so many ways since then.  It almost feels impossible he's only been here a year, while simultaneously feeling so new because we are still learning so much about him.  He still loves a good, long, warm, bath or shower and he still loves motorcycles and fast cars, as noted in previous posts.  His favorite songs continue to be "Good, Good Father" and "In the Eye of the Storm," both ones he learned in the early days at the guesthouse wearing those super cute Spiderman headphones.
In way of the other children that Tyson loved and lived with in Ethiopia, I am happy to report three of his closest friends have come to loving families in America.  There are, still, however, many who are still there with little chance of getting a forever family simply due to the current state of Ethiopian adoptions.  I don't know if those two toddlers, heard wailing "Asnake," as we walked out of the orphanage that day, have families or not.  Regardless, I pray for them often and desire so much for them to live and believe that God has a plan of abundance and goodness planned for each of them. 
As a matter of further updating, our first night in our room with Tyson he couldn't get over the fact that he had shoes, underwear, shirts, and pajamas that were just his.  He kept saying, "For Asnake?" stroking the sides of clean, new shoes or feeling the soft cotton of a pile of shirts.  He hasn't gotten over his shoe fascination much like his mom. He loves shoes, clothes, and putting his things away exactly where they belong.  His nannie was so right, he is organized and very responsible.  Most of the time if you tell him something once, you need not repeat yourself.
I will leave this special post with the one thing that continues to flood my heart and mind.  As we sat in the Ethiopian restaurant Saturday discussing Gotcha Day, we were telling Tyson that we call it that because it's the day we "got" him.  Without hesitating, he looked up at us and said, "No, I got you."  good grief. Tears again. Only Jesus does these things.  This very morning we started our day at Waffle House to celebrate (we love you, Mrs. June).  As we were standing to leave, Mark scooped Tyson up and said, "On Gotcha Day I got you."  Tyson, again, without so much as a second passing, put his hands on Mark's face and said, "And, I got you."  There's no way with finite human minds we will ever be able to wrap our heads or hearts around all that God has done.  I feel certain there are parts of this story He alone holds the meanings, details, and logistics of. There are things He has done to make us a family we will never know until we are with Him.  I am glad we can spend the rest of our days "arguing" about who got who because no matter how you slice it, I think we all walked away better together.  Psalm 23 has been on our radar in recent months for various reasons, but the one quote Mark has often reminded me of in the familiar passage is "even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil."  The key word here is through. God doesn't lead us to deep valleys to abandon us, let us die, or destroy us.  He is walking with us THROUGH it.  He didn't say, "Even though I walk to the valley of the shadow of death."  Walking through the darkest valleys is painful and can produce fear like we have never known.  It also gives us a perspective we could've never known if we stayed on the top of the mountain or even at eye-level.  Often, it isn't until we have walked through the valley to the other side that we look back and see just how deep the valley really was and how God delivered us to the other side stronger, more compassionate, more humble, more graceful, and more grateful.  That is the current position and posture for me today.  Still just undone and full to overflowing with who He is, capable of doing everything He promised He could do, and longing to not only do what is good for us, but most of all, doing what brings Him most glory.  It's all for Him anyway! 
On this first Gotcha Day, I want to say to Jesus, " I got you." There's no arguing or back-and-forth with that one. 
And despite there being back-and-forth with Tyson on the matter in regards to who got who, my heart is really clear on the matter:

We got you, Tyson Asnake McKeehan.  And nothing in the world could've prepared us for all the joy and love you have brought to us.  You belong here.  Welcome home forever.

Until tomorrow,
carrie

Ty Baby

Today's festivities are still in full force.  It's Hudson's 8th birthday and all the fun has left excitement nearly palpable in the house.  It was so fun to watch the boys celebrate Hudson's birthday together for the first time.  This time last year our I can't even describe with mere human words how amazing friends were hosting Hudson's 7th birthday party after church.  I mean, y'all.  Who does that?  OUR friends FRAMILY.  For real.  There are so many pieces to this story that I could never repay.  If you want to read about October 23, 2016, you can here.  I clearly remember Tyson singing "Happy Birthday" to Hudson in both Amharic and English.  We watched those videos for the first time at the Ethiopian restaurant Saturday night.  It was so sweet to watch Tyson and Hudson talking about what they each thought when they were seeing it the first time and filming it. 
Last year on this date we were processing a hard conversation we had with Menge over lunch, knowing Tyson had come from a hard place.  But, hearing the details again made them feel fresh and seemed to consume my every thought.  Because of our conversations about his past, I had his birth mom on my mind all day that day like I still do about three times a week.  I rarely go more than a few days without having her on my mind or somehow having her come up in conversation with Tyson.  We were able to meet her while we were in Ethiopia (on November 5, 2016).  So, I will save that experience for a couple of more weeks.  For now, I will simply say that Tyson is an overcomer. The healing we have seen Jesus do in him is miraculous.  I had sensed Holy Spirit's whisper over and over again in the adoption process when I would get overwhelmed with what we might be taking on, "Your job isn't to heal him.  Your job is to get him to Me.  I will do the healing."  What freedom! 
After church and lunch that day, we finally made our way to the orphanage.  They typically don't allow visitors on Sundays, but Menge is a superhero we decided to go anyway.  While there we had more time with Tyson's remarkable nannie to ask questions.  Sundays are pretty laid back, so the extra time with her proved to be helpful.  The two things she told us Tyson would need help with were (1) washing his face and (2) making sure his shoes get on the right feet.  Ecstatic to say he has mastered washing his face and he gets his shoes on the right feet approximately 97% of the time nearly every single time.  He is even super close to mastering tying his shoes! 
We were a wee bit worried about what it would be like once we arrived in America and Tyson not only had to use a seatbelt, but he also had to sit in a booster seat with his seat belt.  We had Menge explain this to Tyson repeatedly during our time in Ethiopia.  Turns out it was likely all for not... Tyson never seemed to so much as bat an eye at buckling or sitting in a booster because he is a rockstar. 
Some things never change.  Ty's fascination with cars, particularly FAST cars has never changed.  He somehow believes red cars naturally go faster than all others, except when it comes to NASCAR.  In that arena, there is still only one car for him:  the number 6 of Trevor Bayne (We love you Ashton and Trevor).  He has learned a lot about NASCAR, fast cars, and he can't seem to get enough of engines revving and hearing the tires spin.  He is all about cars!
Perhaps the biggest take-away from October 23, 2016, for me, was when Menge suggested I occasionally say, "Asnake yea."  Literally, this translates to "My Asnake."  So, when I began saying that, Tyson would just LIGHT UP.  There is something so powerful about belonging.  About knowing you are known and you are loved, received, and welcomed anyway. It's just like Jesus to say, "I know every stinking thing about you and I still love you.  Receive you. Welcome you. YOU ARE MINE."  These days we don't call him "Asnake" very much unless he is in trouble and he gets "Tyson Asnake".  But, it is quite common to hear me say, "Ty Baby" in normal conversation or when I am calling for him to come.  I don't know where it came from, it just kind of.... came.  However, he loves it and I pray it reminds him that he is ours, that he is known, loved, received, welcomed. 

Until tomorrow!
carrie

Last Firsts

It's been a busy few days around here!  Hudson turns 8 tomorrow where in heaven's name has the time gone? and we spent half the weekend celebrating him. The other half we have spent celebrating all things one-year-ago-today.  My heart is still bursting at the seams from our dinner at the Ethiopian restaurant last night.  We met a couple of friends who are really more like family there for their first Ethiopian dining experience.  After we ordered, we sat reminiscing about our first Ethiopian restaurant as well as showing them pictures and videos of our time in country.  In doing so, we would ask Tyson questions about what he remembered, trying to get his perspective.  It was the first time he talked so much about Ethiopia.  He delighted in sharing some memories we hadn't heard yet over sipping hot chai (tea).  He even said, "thank you," in Amharic when we finished our meal and told us he loved us in Amharic as well.  On the way home I said, "Maybe we could start saying, 'I love you' in Amharic sometimes at home."  I was pleasantly surprised when he said, "Ok.  That's good."  Since arriving home he has been hesitant to discuss much about Ethiopia and he seems to have lost nearly all of his language.  When he does open up about either one, we listen attentively and try to remember the details for future conversations.  It is very common and normal for children to forget their language or desire to not talk much about their native home.  Long-term most come around to talking about it, but emotionally it's easier to make a clear disconnect rather than trying to live in two vastly different places simultaneously. 
One year ago yesterday we drove for like a million hours in traffic a long way up a mountain to tour a museum about Ethiopian history.  It was on that drive that Regan felt car sick and good grief it is no wonder had to jump out of the van to vomit walk around a bit.  The fresh air and empty stomach proved to be just what the doctor ordered.  She was good to go the rest of the day.  We eventually made our way back down the mountain in a much less eventful manner.  Then, we went to see Tyson.  It was on our trek back down the mountain that we discussed with Menge changing Tyson's name from Asnake to Tyson.  We were so grateful for his wisdom, overwhelming support, and eagerness to help us with the transition.  The name change brought up Tyson's nickname, Akuye.  It's a name that has come to be so tender to us.  We still, occasionally, call him that, but he is quick to tell us his name is Tyson.  I will say, he has adjusted to his new name far more quickly than we could've imagined.  It was literally instantaneous. 
One of our greatest concerns about Tyson's physical needs was his eyes.  As noted in my original blog post from one year ago (here), he has a condition called congenital bilateral horizontal nystagmus.  "Congenital" means he was born with it (MRI's have ruled out brain tumors or trauma as a cause).  "Biltateral" simply means both eyes and "horizontal" indicates the direction of movement.  "Nystagmus" is an eye condition where the eyeballs are in constant motion.  Tyson's do more of a "sweeping" motion rather than a "jumping motion."  The first full work day we were back in the states I called the only local eye specialist at Children's Hospital to get an appointment.  We finally saw the specialist in January, where we learned that Tyson has a minor case of nystagmus.  The hope, prayer, and expectation is that as he grows and his eye muscles get stronger, his eyes will improve.  The condition never goes away, but it can and should improve.  Many people have asked us why he doesn't wear glasses.  His only visual impairment is due to the eyes moving.  In other words, if his eyeballs were still, he would have perfect vision.  Therefore, glasses wouldn't make enough of an improvement to warrant having them.  He reads beautifully.  Truth be told, I am sure none of us know all the compensating he has had to do in order to "keep up."  But, he does it all so seamlessly, we actually sometimes forget he even has it!  He often sits close to the TV or holds his ipod especially close to his face.  One of the main concerns for children with nystagmus is how it impacts them in a traditional classroom at school.  Typically they need a seat front and center and there can't be much variation in where they sit in order to ensure they are seeing to their maximum potential. Fortunately for us, in this season, homeschooling has made this one aspect a mute point. 
Fast forward one day to October 22, 2016 and you will come to one of my all time favorite days EVER.  Literally. In all my 39 years I turn 40 three weeks from today but for the record I am still 39, I have never had a day that I can so recollect like I can that particular Saturday.  We were surprisingly allowed to take Tyson away from the orphanage for the afternoon.  It can be akinned to driving away from the hospital with your newborn.  You are excited, but part of you keeps looking back thinking, "Are they really just letting us leave with him?"  Did they ever!  If you ask Tyson about that day now, his one highlight is easy for him to remember:  French Fries.  Suffice it to say that for 365 solid days there has been no wavering in this one fact:  French fries are his girlfriend.  They are madly in love and no one else is even a close second.  You can read about our restaurant, mall, coffee shop experience from a year ago here. 
Coming home we knew it wouldn't all be a bed of roses.  However, we also knew we were off to a far better start than a lot of people in our shoes.  I don't want to say too much in order to protect our kids, but what I will say is this:  being a sister to four boys isn't always easy.  Regan adores Tyson.  There is no way to adequately convey how she feels about him.  HEAD OVER HEELS.  A year ago when Tyson grabbed her hand and walked with her up the steps of the mall, she beamed.  I walked behind them catching tears in a Kleenex as quickly as they fell.  We had been praying for the two of them to connect in a way that only Holy Spirit could do.  For Brycen, the connection was easy: sports, boy stuff, playing cars and making revving noises, etc.  For a sister, it can be a bit more of a challenge.  She never wavered in her commitment to do what it would take to bond with him.  It hasn't been without tears, but it has been beautiful.  Just this week, he curled up with her on the couch to play a game, he asked for her help getting pajamas last night, and they recently had a "slumber party" on her top bunk.  It makes me all teary.  Only Jesus writes these stories.  But, I am so grateful that one year ago, walking up those mall steps in his red jacket and denim shorts, reaching out for her, God did something He didn't have to do: He gave us hope.  And, we clung to it.  He showed us that their bonding was possible and though it might not come as quickly, it would indeed come.  Glimpses of hope are often all you need to keep on keeping on!  I can't say enough about her heart of compassion, her tenacity to never give up persuing, or her unconditional love for her youngest brother.
In way of updates, Tyson still continues to ride his bicycle (sans the broken chain) at every opportunity.  Just this past week at the park he declared, again, how much he loves to ride.  As we also discovered that memorable day, Tyson still loves hot chai (as noted above) and on occasion he still delights in a cup of chocolate ice cream.  But, there aren't many other flavors he will even give a chance!  Since chocolate is Regan's favorite, I think it's just God's way of giving them another common denominator. 
I distinctly remember walking out of the coffee/ice cream shop, Kaldi's, that beautiful Saturday afternoon, looking out over all of us together.  In public and together.  I couldn't believe it was really happening.  Many days, even now, I still can't.  The mere fact that God writes stories and allows us to somehow participate in them is beyond me.  When we walk through days that we know weren't of our doing and we get to see Him flat out come through for us... I don't want to get over those days.  October 22, 2016 was one of those for me.  The unique thing about it all is that I am still not over it.  After dropping Ty back off at the orphanage and holding the sweetest little new baby who had just come into the orphanage Mark and I were able to talk to Tyson's primary nannie.  I wrote so much of the details of the conversation in the original post that I don't want to repeat it all here.  I will simply say, I have wished for a chance to hug her again a trillion times.  Little did I know on that day when we were telling her how thankful we were for her.  Yall.  She totally paved the way for us and set all of us up for total success.  Though much of Tyson's obedience, organization, gentleness, and joy are pure personality, I know it isn't all in his genes.  She taught him all those things mom's teach toddlers: how to independently bathe, get dressed, brush your teeth (though he learned to brush his teeth with his finger), clean up after yourself, etc.  Not only did she teach him those things but she instilled in him a sense of pride in doing it.  Without a doubt he is our most naturally helpful child.  He never misses a chance to help with the dishes, to clean up a mess, to assist with dinner, or to help with laundary.  I have asked Menge to make sure she knows how well Ty is doing and to extend our deepest gratitude to her again.  She is the one who said (describing Tyson), "He is short in stature, but he is tall in mind."  I can't tell you the number of times I have thought back over those words.  They are literally the most succinct description of our little guy.  I quite literally couldn't have said it better myself. 
We are excited to celebrate Hudson's birthday together tomorrow, as last year we were apart for the big day.  As we narrow in on Halloween and tomorrow's birthday, these will be our last "firsts."  Tyson is beside himself about Halloween.  I hope we haven't built up too much for him, but he is JAZZED for it.  I believe it is partially due to the fact that it's the last big holiday he hasn't yet celebrated in America.  We have celebrated everyone else's birthday together, except Hudson's.  So, just like this time last year, my mind is preoccupied with firsts.  However, now they are last firsts.  It's the best full-circle moment this momma could've dreamed of! 

Until tomorrow,
carrie

ABC's and 123's

On October 20, 2016 we were exhausted and running on pure adrenaline still struggling with jet lag, so a lazy day around the guesthouse was perfect.  Except, Tyson was still a few miles away at his orphanage, which made us feel like we were still world's apart. So close, yet so far.  If you want to read about that day, you can do that here.  When we arrived at the orphanage around dinner that night, we expected Tyson to be eating, but we, instead, found him waiting at a window for us.  He had been waiting on us all day, expecting us to come sooner. bless. It's so fascinating to look back, because what I know now is his standing waiting on us is so Tyson.  He constantly wants to know what the plan is  prefers knowing what the day holds and who is doing what, when.  So, I now know that particular day had to be especially hard for him and likely caused him unnecessary anxiety, simply over miscommunication and expectations about when we were to arrive.  I mentioned in that original post about Brycen carrying a green soccer ball that day.  It was a soccer ball we had brought with us to play with at the orphanage and then to leave there.  As soon as Tyson saw it,  he wanted to go play, but he mentioned having another one just like it.  I remember telling him that we had given an exact green soccer ball to one of our friends (who worked for Bethany) to bring to his orphanage a year prior when she was visiting Ethiopia for work.  Because Tyson didn't know about us yet, no one could tell him it was from us, but watching him connect the dots was super special.  He knew we had been loving him a long time not sure he will ever fully know and that's ok .  After playing soccer that day we discussed what he had learned at school that day... "eye," "ear," "nose," "tongue", etc.  Then, we watched him sit on the ground in the cutest black pajamas that looked like a fireman uniform writing the alphabet and numbers.  As many of you know, when we arrived home from Ethiopia we had originally thought we would start Tyson at the school our children have gone to for years (we love our Freedom Christian Academy family so much). However, that was going to be an immunization nightmare and the kindergarten teacher was going to be going on maternity leave in February (only 4 weeks after he would've started).  Clearly, these factors were things we had to prayerfully consider and we decided to jump into homeschooling.  I will blog more about this adventure on another post.  For now, I will say that looking back at those sidewalk chalk letters and numbers makes my jaw drop.  I was amazed then at how well he knew the English alphabet and especially how well he knew to write nearly all the letters.  On days that are frustrating in school, I need to look back at the pictures taken ONLY ONE YEAR AGO.  My lower lip is quivering and I'm getting a lump in my throat thinking about how far he has come.  Tyson is not only writing with amazing penmanship, but he is reading on first grade level just beautifully.  It hasn't all come easily, but he loves learning and he enjoys thinking.  In hindsight, his sitting writing those letters and numbers declaring, "I wrote all of this and you did nothing" (to Menge), must've been a masterpiece for him.  He has worked his TAIL END off learning English because it IS a crazy hard language to learn.  He is remarkably smart and a joy to teach.
Other preferences we learned about Tyson that day were that he prefers carbohydrates like potatoes, rice, and noodles.  Some things never change.  Without a doubt his favorite foods are French fries and spaghetti.  Hands down.  We were hopeful upon our return home to change his life by adding cheese to macaroni. However, as it turns out, he doesn't like cheese.  And, it wasn't until the last month that he has eaten and liked a green vegetable.  Once we were home we realized he had never had a salad, green beans, broccoli, cucumbers, asparagus, spinach, etc.  NOTHING GREEN.  He always tried what we were eating, but he could never bring himself to choke it down eat it.  We aren't sure what changed, but about 3 weeks ago he gave broccoli another try and much to our sheer delight, he declared at the dinner table (seemingly as shocked as we were), "Hey!  I like broccoli now!"  and all God's children said, "Amen!"
We also learned, while donned in those adorable black fireman pajamas, that his favorite color was red.  He's six, so this one preference changes on nearly a daily basis.  Today his favorite color is blue, but we are fighting hard for him not to like it with orange something Brycen doesn't help us with as he is a die hard Florida fan. Next, we learned he was afraid of dogs and of being in the dark.  The dog fear was very real and stayed around for the first several months.  Over time he has met the sweetest dogs and his heart has changed.  It was so tender for us to all sit back and watch him hold Finn's leash (our friend Angie visits often and brings her dog, Finn) all around the house.  After watching for 20 minutes Regan said, "Hey buddy, usually you walk the dog around since you are holding the leash. Don't let him walk you around!"  But, Ty didn't seem to mind one bit.  He does, however, still prefer NOT being in the dark.  It isn't a big deal and we all know to never turn the lights off in the basement in the rooms with no windows while he is in there. 
Perhaps the biggest change from one year ago is what Tyson told us that day about swimming.  He told us he thought he would love swimming as long as there wasn't any water because he would "go under and die."  batting away tears YALL.  HE'S THE BEST LITTLE SWIMMER.  He loves it!  He spent as much time over the summer as he possibly could swimming.  He did wear his Puddle Jumper when swimming in the deep end or jumping off the diving board.  But, just before summer came to a halt he was able to jump in the deep and swim to the shallow with no floats or help.  I am so proud of all the fears he has conquered and how he has faced so many new things with bravery and courage. 
One year ago today Mark and I sat together and told Tyson together that we would be his parents forever.  I will never forget his full-faced grin and his leaning in toward us, giving Mark a huge hug, as soon as Menge finished interpreting for us. it wasn't a dream.  it was really happening. 
Perhaps the thing I remember most about one year ago today was feeling Tyson's soft lips on my cheek for the very first time.  My first kiss.  It was a moment that felt like time stood still.  Such a special day of bonding. Tyson loves to brush his teeth before bed, put on fresh pajamas, come to me and say, "can I please lay with you?"  At what point I usually say, "Sure, buddy."  We grab a cozy blanket and he crawls up on my lap and I hold him while he falls asleep.  Little did I know after that little peck on the cheek a year ago, that this little guy was going to be my cuddle bug.  I am still working on teaching him how to really cuddle, because he wasn't held close in his younger years, it is foreign to him how to really curl around someone, get comfortable, and go to sleep (like when you are holding a newborn).  But, we have come a long way.  Those end-of-the-day cuddles are a gift to me.  This is what it's like to have a mommy.  This is what it's like to your baby home.
The truth the Lord was pressing in on me that day is one He is still engraving on my heart today:  these days aren't holy because of our circumstances, we are on sacred sod, walking on holy ground because He is walking with us.  His presence is what changes our days from ordinary to extraordinary, forgettable to unforgettable, temporal to eternal (in the perspective we carry).  As we look forward to what He has for us in the future, we do so with this as our hope: HE WALKS WITH US.  And, as I look back with a heart of gratitude, I am eager to see what He wants to do in the next year.  It's quite supernatural all that has happened, which is as easy to see as, well, your ABC's and 123's.    Jesus, we are yours and we love and trust you. 

Until tomorrow's update,
carrie

He is Able

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us..." Ephesians 3:20

He is able.  Immeasurably more than we can think or ask or imagine.  He can do it all through His power at work in us (Holy Spirit).  I am meditating on these words in a fresh way today.  It's a beautiful fall day in Knoxville with temperatures finally dipping, leaving cool wisps of wind on my face, and sunshine casting down the most intricate shadows through the barren tree limbs.  I just reread my blog posts from October 19th, 2016 here.  In a flash, I am right back sitting in that white stuffy van pulling into that green gate for the first time.  I can smell the smells of raw meat and unregulated exhaust fumes of the city and hear the sounds of horns honking  Addis Ababa by simply closing my eyes.  My heart was racing, my head was swirling, and my eyes were filled with tears that I was constantly batting away.  No one could have prepared us for what that day would entail, how it would feel, what would transpire, how He would prove He had been knitting us together, or what it would be like to hold Tyson for the very first time.  As I rewatched the video of our first meeting again today, I noticed something I had never noticed before.  Just after Mark hugged Tyson and he came to me, I gave him a big hug and then I stroked the side of his face.  It's almost like I couldn't believe he was standing there while also wanting to feel what it felt like to physically touch God's faithfulness.  Standing right in front of me in a white, plaid button-up, short shaved hair, and the cutest little dark dress pants was an answer to at least a million prayers. I am not sure how many bottles of tears I had cried over Tyson at that point, but I recall knowing right then that God knew and He had held them in His bottle (Psalm 56:8), knowing all the while that this day would come.  Mourning turned to dancing.    

As I noted on the original blog last year, Mengistu (who we now all know as our beloved Menge) was our Bethany host.  However, a year later, Menge wasn't just our Bethany host.  He is the one Bryeen told me yesterday he wanted to live with when he moves to Ethiopia family.  We had no idea on that fateful day what the Lord was orchestrating between our family and Menge, but my goodness it was beautiful.  Since then, Menge has come and spent a week with our family at the beginning of August cue the tears.  I will save that special trip for a later post about Menge, but because this post is about God being able to do immeasurably more, I wanted to include what God has done in and through Menge in just one short year.  While we were in Ethiopia we had many candid conversations with Menge about life, Jesus, callings, equipping, the Church (global), and finding Menge a godly, gorgeous, Godly wife.  On more than one occasion Menge shared with us about a passion he had to serve the street boys in Addis Ababa.  The passion was clear, but at the time the vision and "how" weren't so clear.  He and Mark spent countless hours in conversation about leadership, following Holy Spirit,trusting, faith,  etc.  When we left Ethiopia, we left a small monetary gift with Menge specifically for his ministry that he had plans to call "Hope Overflowing."  We did it simply to let him know we believed in him and the call and passion God had clearly put on his heart.  While Menge was in the states in August,  "Hope Overflowing" got its official 501c3 status!  Menge had started spending time with 12 street boys, feeding them, offering them friendship, hope, love, and providing them with jobs (start up fee to give one boy all he needs to have a street business is only $12!).  I would love for any of you interested in this AMAZING ministry to follow along here.  You can sign up for updates and celebrate along with us that since Menge returned back to Ethiopia from the States, Hope Overflowing has leased a house and now all 12 boys have a home, security, and safety.  We wholeheartedly believe in the work God is doing through Menge and Hope Overflowing and we can't wait to see Him do immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine in the next year!  

I also introduced you to mentioned Meselu in the original 2016 post.  Meselu was Tyson's social worker in Ethiopia.  She is the one who had sat him down and on October 17, 2016, handed him a photo book of our family, introducing him to his new family.  I asked Tyson about that conversation with Meselu on Tuesday (one year since he had found out he had a family) to see what he remembered.  He said, "I don't understand Amharic anymore, so I can't tell you what she said."  Living your life between two worlds by the time you are six gets confusing.  I answered him by saying, "Well, do you remember in English what she said?"  He smiled a half-grin and shrugged and said, "I just really loved the pictures."  As we talked on and I prodded a bit more about the day, I finally just asked him, "Did you sleep with that picture book the first night?"  He leaned into me, smiling, and said, "No, but I kept it beside my bed and woke up two times in the night to look at it."  I am not sure how he could see the pictures in the night with no power, but it brought fresh tears to my eyes to imagine a 5 year-old waking twice in the night to make sure it hadn't all been a dream.  Finally, we finished the conversation with him saying, "I went to bed just really happy that night."  Somehow I feel certain that sweet thing laid his head on his pillow with a fresh peace that his young heart couldn't articulate, but if it could it might whisper, "more than I could've asked or imagined."  He is able. 

One of the last things Tyson said to us as we were preparing to leave him after our first visit was, "Thank you and I love you."  Heaven help. I can't hold in the tears. We are the ones who feel like that is what we should be saying.  Ty is unusually full of gratitude for a six year old.  He literally thanks us and everyone who does anything for him profusely.  At first I bent over backwards telling him that we knew he was thankful and he didn't have to keep saying it for us to keep him.  WE ARE KEEPING YOU NO MATTER WHAT.  But, I now know he really is just so aware of anyone working around him, anyone serving him, anyone who needs help.  It's just part of how God wired him.  The "I love you's" weren't always so free-flowing initially, but just since I sat at our table to start this post, he has called to me from the other room twice with, "Mom, I love you."  Nothing delights me more than for him to know he is loved and safe here.  

I also mentioned on our first visit with Tyson at the orphanage that he fell and skinned his knee.  We, of course, doted over him and babied him like he was made of porcelain.  Now, I know he is one tough cookie!  Just a few weeks after coming home he fell down steps at church racing down the stairs with his brothers .  By the time I got to him, he already had a HUGE pump knot on his forehead (can I get an "Amen" from our church medical team who responded that day?).  His nose and lips were bleeding and when he saw me he stood up staggering and trying to focus and said, "I am ok, Mom."  I assured him it was ok not to be ok!  We doctored his wounds and he healed just fine.  But, we have noted how he rarely tells us when he is hurt.  Just recently he got a huge carpet burn down the front of his face during the middle of the first Tennessee football game of the year. I was apparently so into the game that I didn't notice until the next morning because he never told us!  I am not sure if he chooses to keep quiet because he really does have a high pain tolerance or if he was so accustomed to being hurt and having no one respond he learned to cope on his own.  We are still working through that, but we do often remind him that when something hurts, he needs to tell Mommy or Daddy.

As I conclude today, my heart is celebrating how far we have come while also grieving for those still in the wait.  So many families are continuing to fight long, hard, uncertain battles for their children.  I am praying, in faith, believing God to be all He says He is, capable of doing all He says He can do, with you!  He has done it for us and He can do it again.

He is able.  Immeasurably more, Lord, that's what You do.  We are thankful.  

until tomorrow,

carrie

A Year

This time last year Mark, Brycen, Regan, and I were boarded, buckled, and ready for take-off. Next stop: Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.
A Year.
I’ve grown more and more emotional as the anniversary of so many important dates has approached. I’ve sat and pondered over the days leading up to our trip, the years that brought so much upheaval and uncertainty, and the Sovereign One who ordained them all. I have been moved to tears countless times.
Jesus, You are faithful.
When I was on that plane exactly one year ago, I had no idea what laid before me. I was unsure of how Tyson would respond to us, uncertain as to how we would all respond to him, and a bit uneasy about not knowing how long we would be gone. The lack of commitment on the part of our kebele (the government agency in Ethiopia responsible for issuing birth certificates) to actually print the newly implemented system of doing adoption certificates , forced us to start our journey with little guarantees about how long it would take to complete the process. As I stare at photos of us on that plane, it delights me to no end that, looking back, I say with all certainty: we were embarking on the ride of our lives.
In hindsight, it wasn’t just about getting Tyson (but, holy cow, that part IS pretty amazing). It was also about seeing miracles happen right before our eyes. It was about watching Jesus “part the waters” for us to walk through on dry land where every human had said we wouldn’t make it. It was, what I thought would be, the end of a faith journey that had been six long years in the making. What I didn’t know was that the faith journey was just getting started! There were so many parts & pieces to this story that I couldn’t see coming. Flying over the ocean that day, my mind was distracted by the sheer fact that my life was never going to be the same. The fabric of our family was being woven by the same Skilled Artisan who’d started our family, but He was adding a new thread. It was sure to be beautiful, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take to feel cozy enough to curl up underneath and rest. But, I was ready for the fight of my life. In all His goodness, that Skilled Master Craftsman had spent years taking apart the former fabric and gently, kindly, and sometimes painstakingly, putting us back together in such a way that the addition of new, unfamiliar thread wouldn’t be so stark and harsh. In His kindness, He had prepared us, even more than I knew that day flying to the other side of the globe. Tearfully I am typing as the belly laughs of three McKeehan boys echo off the green plastic slide at the park. It still catches me by surprise while simultaneously seeming like it’s always been this way. Only Jesus does that. Taking time to weave our lives with such delicacy, intricacy, and tenderness that we can be overcome with gratitude for the new thing He’s crafting in us while also feeling like He redeemed every ounce of time we were certain the enemy had stolen along the way.
This very minute our brown-eyed youngest son,  just ran up, gave me a spontaneous hug, and started back off to join his brothers on the green slide. The smell of his strawberry (delicious) hair milk still lingers in the air around me. And in one second I can be back in the guesthouse, putting that hair milk into his brown, curly locks the very first time. The texture of his hair was new & unfamiliar. Insecurities about how to do his hair were swirling thick over me like a cloud. Today, I knew how much hair milk to have ready in my palms before he even strolled into the bathroom. He knows how to move his head from side to side to help me get it evenly dispersed & he knows when I need to use a smidge more! Time has a funny way of flying by, but also of remaining. Of passing by so quickly, but also feeling like some things never change. It seems to take away, but it also seems to give. Time can heal and renew, but it can also be a brutal reminder of gaping wounds that seem to never heal.

I’m going to spend the next twenty-five days giving a “rest of the story” to each of the entries I made on our trip last year. So, if you want to read about our traveling experience and how I was feeling just after going to visit Tyson for the first time, you can read it here. Tomorrow I will give a "year after" update on things I noted or mentioned in this first post after getting my hands on our boy.

I continue to be brought to tears at our community, who not only walked with us through the long years of waiting, but who have also never missed the first opportunity to love, serve, and pray for us since we arrived home. I literally cried talking about it last night in my Reckon group (small group). I continue to pray a 100-fold blessing over each of you for your faithfulness to trust Him with us.
For now, I’m enjoying all the belly laughs remembering that this time last year was the last day I’d live without having that sweet boy in my arms! Grateful. Humbled. Tearful. Jesus, you change everything!

A Sleep Interrupted

I can't NOT write.

My heart and head have been reeling for six solid days. 

I suppose I can't keep silent because all of the racial division is so personal.  It felt and continues to feel like a repeated punch in the proverbial gut.  It comes with all the symptoms: nausea, increased heart rate, restless sleep. It doesn't primarily feel personal because one of my sons is African American, though that has caused this Momma Bear to perk her ears and set her gaze on the enemy with a fresh wave of righteous anger. Growling louder than before and far more fierce.  As much as I wanted to write with that as my driving force, the more I prayed, the more Holy Spirit kept asking me questions.  Hard questions.  Heart questions. Personal questions.  Questions I, quite honestly, would have preferred not answering. Frankly,  I was enjoying my sleep.
It's hard to admit it. However, NOT admitting has never led to places of healing, change, or freedom.  Only when we admit we were sleeping can we WAKE UP and fight. 
As I watched the atrocities of Charlottesville overtake the TV, social media, and radio this weekend, I couldn't do what I have a (known) tendency to do: pray and go back to MY life.  What I was missing was (first), this isn't MY life and (second) I am part of the problem. Did I already mention somethings are hard to confess? No, I am not driving cars through crowded streets or burning crosses or heinously (and cowardly) beating people with baseball bats JUST BECAUSE OF THEIR SKIN COLOR hot tears in my eyes. again.  Because I wasn't doing that or associating with those who were, I assumed I wasn't guilty. 

I was asleep.

The startling wake up call came for me when I began to pray for healing in our nation and asked Holy Spirit to start with me.  "Lord, do you want me to use my voice because of the racial diversity of our family?" His response wasn't what I expected.  As I read through portions of Genesis and 1& 2 Timothy in my quiet time,  I was tempted to close the two-edged sword in my hands.  First Timothy was a reading "assignment" in a Bible Study I am doing and when I read its words Monday, I sat quietly.  My slumber was growing restless. 

"As I urged you when I went into Macedonia, stay there in Ephesus so that you may command certain people  not to teach false doctrines any longer or to devote themselves to myths and endless genealogies. Such things promote controversial speculations rather than advancing the work of God-which is by faith. The goal of this command is love, which come from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith. " 1 Timothy 1:3-5

I sat quietly and reread the words.  False teachings that lead to controversial speculations are counter-productive to advancing God's work. Duh.  But, this is the very work I claim to be the reason for my existence.  Work that isn't easy or sweet, that is why Timothy's words weren't minced: this is the kind of work that takes raw faith. Controversial speculations were fresh in my mind, on my TV, and flying around our nation like buzzards circling over a fresh carcass.  But, the next words jumped off the page at me.

The goal of this command is love.

I had been feeling a lot of things.  Anger.  Frustration. Rage. Grief. Pride because after all who could be that arrogant.  But, if I am being honest, I wasn't exactly feeling the love. No. nada. nope.  But, the words kept jostling around in my spirit like a tiny ship tossed by the waves of a big, angry sea.  I couldn't ignore them.  They were disturbing my sleep. The only way to love right here in the middle of our "Ephesus" where it's easier to roll our eyes, is to do so with a pure heart.


I tossed and turned on my pillow over this for a night or two, growing increasingly more restless. 
As I prayed more and more about what Holy Spirit wanted me to DO, I finally realized that I couldn't DO much because He wanted to reveal to  me the reason for my sleep. 

I know me. My heart isn't pure in regards to how I feel about perpetrators, instigators, supremacists.

However, slumber is nice because it prevents me from facing my own impure heart. When faced with the option to stand and be heard, to call out sin in another, it forces us to turn the mirror inward. That is where we have historically frozen and put the mirror down when we saw what was reflecting back.  After all, how can I say that about them when I know this about me. I had to do a serious gut check about my profound comfort with people who are like me. People who think like me, believe like me, and live like me.  Here's the thing.  If I don't confess my OWN prejudices, I remain asleep and therefore prevent the advancement of God's work.  If I move on and don't face what evil is lurking living in my own heart, I can't possibly shine light in the dark places of the world.  I can point my finger.  I can grown cynical.  I can become angry.  I can cast down judgement.  But, I can't change the situation.  I can't allow the light of Jesus to shine, exposing the sins of those living without Him.  My days of slumber were brought to a screeching halt when I just confessed my own prejudices out of a heart longing to fight the good fight.  Not the easy fight.  Not the "I don't know what I can do" fight.  Not the "I can't make a difference" fight.  The GOOD fight.  The fight WORTH fighting.  There comes a time we have to RISE UP out of our slumber, look our prideful selves in the face and say, "WHO ARE YOU KIDDING?"  If we (as followers of Jesus) don't get real with our own sin, our own prejudices, our own insecurities, we will stay asleep while God is trying to WAKE US UP to the fact that He still wants to use us to impact this world He has entrusted to us in this exact generation for these exact circumstances. Circumstances where our brothers and sisters are (literally) dying for us to listen.  To notice.  To wake up from our sleepy daze and hear their cries.  To fight with them by demanding injustice die and living lives that bring justice to life. We can do neither with impure hearts, unwilling to confess our own injustices, because the sleep is too good.   

As I have pondered these things and so many more that I don't feel like He has given me the freedom to write about yet, I came across the familiar story in Genesis 32 about Jacob.  Jacob was terrified about coming face-to-face with his brother, Esau.  A brother Jacob had tricked out of his birthright.  As the brothers prepared to meet,  Jacob sent his family and possessions ahead of him and he found himself alone.  Or so he thought.  Left alone to rest.  Or so he thought.  What happened instead, was Jacob spent the entire night in a wrestling match with God.  Sounds crazy, huh?  But, as I wrestled in my spirit, calling out my own discriminations and the painful realities that exposed, I sensed Him whispering into my spirit, "You can't wrestle with Someone from far away."  It's a thought I have had before, but it hit me fresh and new.  Rather than resisting what He is wanting to expose and teach me, He desires, instead, to be drawn in close. Even if it hurts.  Especially when it hurts.  To be wrestling through some stuff with Him means He is close enough to wrestle! Of course, we can't stay in that resisting and fighting forever.  At some point morning gives way to day light and as the sun peeks over the morning fog and lingering dew, we face the day changed because of  His Sovereignty over us.  New identity.  New perspective.  New walk. 
I am forever marked by these days.  Not only marked because of the grief I feel for our country, but even more for the grief I have faced as a result of what has been uncovered in my own heart.  My interrupted sleep has led to a wrestling that has given way to a limp.  One that won't slow me down, but rather one that will allow me to confidently stand on the life-changing, soul-saving, light-shining, name of Jesus.  One that will allow me to rise up and walk in full confidence in Him, knowing that I can call SIN, SIN without fear of the enemy whispering, "What can you say?"  I can't say much.  But, Jesus, He has a lot to say.  And, if my limp will allow me to advance His work with a banner of love, I welcome it. 

Life-changing days all because of a sleep interrupted.

Redeeming Time

The day started like most with the pitter patter of running feet coming full force in my direction.  Tyson's sleepy eyes barely get focused before his little feet hit the floor and he runs for me...every. single. morning (I am not mad about it).  Throughout the day I get numerous spontaneous hugs, kisses, and unsolicited "I love you"'s (not mad about any of that either).  Just tonight those brown curls bounced my way and those sparkling eyes looked up at me and he simply reached his arms around me and squeezed.  As I knelt down on my knees to get eye-level with him, Tyson came in for a big, full, all-body hug.  I batted away tears because HELLO, I waited a long time for these hugs I have been recollecting all the books, videos, and education we received during our wait.  All saying the same thing:  attachment and trust take years to develop.  Many experts even quantify the estimated time for this attachment, saying that for every year a child is in institutionalized care, it will take at least 1-2 months for trust and attachment to begin to be solidified.  I recognize that every child is different.  Every "institution" (orphanage) is different.  Every family is different.  And, for many families those timelines have been right on while others have desperately longed for attachment to come that quickly. 
Just this past week Tyson asked to sleep in Regan's bed one night (I cannot even express in human words how far we have come....).  The next morning he woke telling me about how the two of them stayed up talking like two teenage girls at a sleepover.  When I prodded about the topics of conversation it was as if it was common for a 6-year-old brother to talk to his 13-year-old sister about heaven and hell, about "Maso used to be my mom, " and about "washing my hair only on Tuesdays when I was living in Ethiopia."  I DID address the "Maso used to be my mom," by reminding him that she is his biological Momma forever and always, but I didn't want to miss the miracle in the moment.  God has done something profound with the one commodity we can't redeem.  He is

redeeming time.

As I have watched Tyson interacting in various social settings, I sometimes sit back and shake my head, knowing this is only the work of the Time Redeemer.  As I have spent more and more time in recent weeks praying about writing a book, something Holy Spirit has prompted me to do for a while, I have asked Him to reveal to me the things He wants to share.  Among several themes, I continue to have re-occurring conversations with friends about this one truth: He is fully capable of

redeeming time.

Waiting is hard.  It doesn't matter if you are waiting on employment, a spouse, having children, or direction on what is next for your future.  Waiting tends to hang a clock over each of our heads that looms large and in charge and casts a shadow over our lives that makes the days feel long, dark, and difficult to navigate. We begin to believe after a while that somehow God has lost track of the time that is passing. Even more, we convince ourselves that He has completely forgotten about this proverbial clock hanging over us.  During years 5 and 6 of our adoption wait I was almost certain God had not only forgotten about the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years passing by, I even doubted He could would do anything about it at times somethings are just really hard to admit.  As I opened my Bible this morning to pick up my study of the book of Ecclesiastes ohmylands it is so good, I came to those familiar verses found in chapter 3 reminding us that there is a season, a time, for EVERYTHING.  "Everything" is a big, all-encompassing word, one that leaves us little room to find an exception.  Believe me, I have tried.  There is a time to be born, a time to die.  A time to plant, a time to uproot.  A time to kill, a time to heal.  A time to tear down, a time to build up.  A time to weep, and a time to laugh.  A time to mourn, a time to dance a personal favorite contrast A time to scatter stones and a time to gather.  A time to embrace and a time to stop embracing.  A time to search and a time to stop searching that one hurts so good. A time to keep and a time to discard.  A time to tear and a time to mend.  A time to be silent and a time to speak.  A time to love and a time to hate.  A time for war and a time for peace. 
Clearly, time is important to Jesus.  Yet, He isn't in time.  So, it's clear He wants us to trust Him with time because EVERYTHING is purposed and ordained by the One who isn't intimidated by the clocks hanging over us or the circumstances that hung them there.  He wants us so much to trust Him with our time that Ecclesiastes 3:10-12 goes on to explain it to us like this:

"I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with.  He has made everything beautiful in its time.  Also, He has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from beginning to end.  I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live."

Not only has God put eternity in our hearts, reminding us that He isn't in time like us, but He reminds us that He makes everything beautiful in its time. EVERYTHING.  These truths can feel contradicting when we consider our own waits, that somehow it's going to be beautiful, but it feels like the walls are closing in and its all going to come crashing down.  Then, the enemy is silenced when I remind him that our God is watching a very different clock than the one we keep staring at over our wait.  Here's the thing Jesus continues to speak into my spirit regarding our waits:  He is perfect at

redeeming time.

Unlike money, or trust, or status, once time is gone, well, it's gone.  We simply can't get it back.  Ever.  Yet, whatever we entrust to the tender hands of Jesus, He can take and redeem...even time.  It's, perhaps, the reason Ecclesiastes 3 says that eternity is placed in our hearts, because only then will we be able to see what He sees and understand what He was doing from the beginning to the end.  As I have spent time meditating on this truth, I came to the passage in Scripture where God's children were enduring devastating famine due to locusts eating their crops.  This devastation continued for 4 years while the children of God had to have been wondering what in the world God was doing.  As the people cried out to God, He responded in Joel 2:18-19 letting them know He was sending grain, wine, and oil to them so they could "be satisfied."  He went on in verses 25-26, "I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten-the great locust and the young locust, the other locusts and the locust swarm- my great army that I sent among you.  You will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you.."

REDEEMING TIME.

He repaid them for the years the locusts had taken.  I. can't. even.  As surely as I know my name, I believe we are living in a redeeming season, where God is

redeeming time

for us.  All the years we waited, believing they were gone and we would never get them back, He is redeeming them.  He is giving us multiplied joy, laughs, attachment, learning, trust, healing, and grace.  Acknowledging this in no way diminishes the pain, grief, and tears that waiting years produce.  Yet, as we fix our eyes on eternity, knowing He set it in our hearts, we can trust Him in waiting seasons.  We can trust that He sees what we are convinced we are missing out on and He can redeem it for us.  We may not get the physical hours, days, and weeks back, but He somehow  multiplies the time when its season does come. 

I want to encourage you as you wait.  During our wait I missed out on the opportunity to trust Him for redeemed time.  I am grateful He has opened my eyes to this truth now and I have asked for His forgiveness for all the days I convinced myself the clock over us was spinning out of control.  Jesus gets more glory when we entrust our days to Him and watch on with great expectation as He does what only He can do:

REDEEM TIME.

And when He does redeem time, we most assuredly will praise His name, as noted previously in Joel 2:26.  Mourning turns to dancing.  Weeping turns to laughing.  locust years turn to

Redeeming years.

We love you, Jesus. 

Carrie

Like Father, Like Son

Being part of a family, any family, has it's, ahem, ups and downs.  It is quite fascinating, actually, how we are born into a family with absolutely NO SAY in the matter WHATSOEVER.  We have zero input into when, where, or even why we come into this "assigned" family, forced to deal with the circumstances that are handed to us.  Some of us are handed quite a pleasant ride, while others are left to literally fend for themselves, wandering planet earth like a ship lost at sea.  Father's Day has had me thinking about my dad, my kids' dad, and, if I am being honest, the biological dad's who gave us the added arrows in our quiver. 
On Mother's Day, I was able to celebrate having all our children home under one roof and I spent the entire day with tears hanging onto my bottom eye lids for dear life.  I thought of Tyson's birth mother a million times that day, recollecting her gentle spirit, her obvious love for him, and her willingness to love him so sacrificially.  I am, this very second,  recollecting the lines on her young face, her small stature, and her quiet words, spoken with a shaky, tearful voice.  But, today is different.  Yet, it's the same.  It's the same celebration, as we celebrate Mark having all our kids home for the first Father's Day.  Different, however, because there are no photos or memories to pull up on Instagram to fill in this missing piece.  As I have grieved that in a fresh way today, I was drawn in, again, to the hope and truth of scripture that clearly speaks over that missing piece with words full of promise:  A Father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. Psalm 68:5.  As my heart was drawn into this truth, I am drawn to my knees with gratitude that Tyson is home, fully Mckeehan and given all the rights, privileges, and inheritance of Mark Daniel Mckeehan.  Pursued. Known. Loved.  No more missing piece.
Over the course of the last few months, we have been in a bit of transition, anticipating the possibility of having two more children for the summer at least.  These two beautiful girls are well-known to us, as we have been "Momma Carrie" and "Daddy Mark" to them both for several years.  We fell in love with both of these girls as they lived at Kay Libete in Haiti.  Our frequent visits there gave us the great privilege to walk them home from school, have many meals around their table, late night talks by flashlight, after school homework (hello physics in French with no power at 8pm), and sleepovers (for me) at their house where I adored tucking them in bed, praying over them, and singing songs until we were all giddy with fatigue.  We hoped, prayed, and dreamed about them coming to America, but it wasn't until just two weeks before they  arrived to us that they walked into the US Embassy in Port-au-Prince and were granted amazing visas, confirming they could come.   Both have been accepted into a crazy good international school in San Antonio, Texas where they will start 9th and 10th grade this fall. Our hearts have been so full having them here with us all summer. All the firsts have been so eye-opening, fun, and even heartbreaking at times.  Both Pursued. Known. Loved.
As Father Day has come and gone, I am just so grateful that all 7 children tucked comfortably into warm beds under our roof tonight know what it feels like to have a dad who listens.  The smell of  campfire smoke is still lingering on my clothes after our family fire pit tonight.  All 9 of us sat around having silly conversations, with belly laughs and jokes to serious conversations that bring our reality to a screeching halt when things are said that remind us of all the years before some of them had family.  Mark sat listening, teaching them by example, that they have a dad who values their words, their feelings, and their opinions.  As he listened, he was pointing them to the tender, listening ears of Jesus... trustworthy, interested, and intentional.

Like Father, like son.

I sat looking around the fire pit circle, mindful that three of the seven children around us did not grow up with a dad.  At all.  One grieving a dad killed while trying to be single parent to a six year old.  Two who have never known and will never know their biological fathers.  Yet, right there between the Dorito fingers of Hudson and the bug zapper light, I realized that this tribe, entrusted to us, represents both Jew and Gentile.  Some born into the lineage of Mark Daniel Mckeehan while others were grafted in.  And all the while, it doesn't matter one ounce to the pursuing father which way you came into the family.  All that matters is that each one is here and each one matters. Jesus set for us the perfect example.  Despite our being Gentiles, He made it clear that He came for us.  Pursued us.  Died in order to have a relationship with us.  His constant willingness to "take in" is a side of His heart that is so tender to me.  And, it's a side of Him that I see so often in Mark.  No longer fatherless, all seven sit around us with full knowledge of what it is like to have a dad say, "I love you.  I am proud of you.  You belong here." 

Like Father, like son.

Suddenly, Holy Spirit quickened my spirit to what He was wanting me to see, to know, to acknowledge... I no longer have to fear the ramifications of the gaping hole left in each heart and life from the years living with no father.  Grief is still real for all involved.  Difficult discussions will still, most assuredly,  have to happen. However, as with anything the entrust to the trustworthy hands of Jesus, there is healing and hope and new life.  I have had to remind myself throughout all my parenting years (all 15 of them) that my role isn't to try to bring healing from a broken world to these children.  Rather, my role is to lead them to Jesus, who CAN fully, sufficiently, eternally heal them. Jesus doesn't show partiality to the Jew over the Gentile, He simply loves.  He redeems. He restores. As I sat listening to the kids tell Mark what they loved most about him today, it was so powerful to hear them say, "He sings to me," "he does things with  me," "he loves me," "he teaches me," "he provides for me,"  "he makes me smile."  In an instant, I was drawn to a grin as I watched the fire's glow dance across each face:

Like Father, like son.

These days aren't always easy.  They are full of healing, of hoping, of laughing, of dreaming, of revealing, of confessing, of releasing.  Yet, they are seasoned with grace, kindness, gentleness, patience, joy, and perseverance.  Some days, everyone obeys and things go according to plan.  Other days, sigh, it feels like the wheels are coming off of everything in life.  But, Mark continuously leans into Holy Spirit for guidance, wisdom, and discernment and then fleshes out, with supernatural courage, the willingness and bravery of soldier following commands, walking straight into battle.  There are days all of the heaviness of the responsibilities weighs down and it all just seems so much bigger than what we can do (even when it is just the seven of us).  That is precisely when Mark will remind me that it IS too much for us to do, forcing us to rely on the One who called us to each task.  It isn't easy to obey when the Father calls you to something big.  Something scary.  Something heavy.  Jesus knows that fulfilling the will of the Father is hard.  But, it is also beautiful.  And refining. And freeing.   As I looked across the fire at Mark tonight, I saw someone who carries the callings of Jesus with such profound honor, with care, and with the realization that it comes at great risk, but also with great reward.  He sat with Tyson on his lap while the other six flanked each side.  He looked at each one as he or she spoke, taking in every word.  The risks are great.  But the rewards are greater.

Like Father, like son.

You have a Father tonight who pursues you, fully knows you, and deeply loves you.  I pray as this Father's Day comes to an end, you will rest in the comfort and confidence that He longs to father you, not from a distance or with a spirit of frustration and anger.  Rather, as One leaning in, listening, singing over you, walking with you, loving you, teaching you, providing for you.  I am grateful for the tangible picture, though not a perfect picture, that Mark brings to us, of the fight, pursuit, and love of our Heavenly Father.  I know this only comes as a result of his spending time with His father. You cannot imitate what you do not know. 

Like Father, like son.



Carrie

Mother's Day Thoughts

It almost feels like the day we found out we were leaving in 5 days to go to Ethiopia to pick up Tyson.  My emotions were all over the place, remembering days that felt hopeless and dark, but light seemed to be breaking through.  It's the night before Mother's Day when all of us are sleeping under one roof.  It still makes me cry.  As the day has come closer and closer, I have been more intentionally focused on being present... being so mindful of how blessed I am.  These days aren't taken for granted as I sit, tearfully, thinking about devastating news that continues to come out of Ethiopia regarding adoption.  So many friends still waiting to see if or when their children can come home.  I am prayerful for other friends in uncertain days in a domestic adoption, but trusting and believing God is weaving a beautiful baby boy into the fabric of their forever family. Still others waiting to bring three new sons home once necessary paperwork is completed.   Mother's Day always  brings about conflicting emotions for me.  Mindful of those I know facing their first Mother's Day without their moms.  Others celebrating their first Mother's Day with a baby in their arms... arms that have been previously empty from infertility for years upon years.  Still others facing their first Mother's Day without their children.  Jesus, be so near. 
But, tonight I am sitting in a place of immense gratitude.  Not just a casual "Thank you, Jesus."  It's an overwhelming sense of contentment and utter THANKSGIVING.  I have sat and contemplated years past... years when Brycen was a baby.  I JUST REGISTERED HIM FOR HIGH SCHOOL who am I? My first Mother's Day with two babies under three.  It was a physically exhausting season, but one that taught me so much about Jesus and grace and LETTING SOME THINGS GO (insert Hallelujah Chorus here).  After having Brycen and Regan 20 months apart, we were not expecting to have four years between Regan and Corbin.  So, that first Mother's Day with him was extra sweet, too.  Then, along came Hudson (surprise!).  At the time, we were praying about whether our family was complete or not.  Little did we know. 
God was calling us to walk a road that proved to be far harder than I ever imagined.  It also proved to be far more rewarding.  When I think about this particular Mother's Day, my mind drifts to the other side of the globe where a young woman is waking up to start her day.  It will, most assuredly, be a day full of hard work from early morning until late at night.  I think about the features of her face... ones I memorized as I sat beside her in November.  I'm thinking about how she works full-time and still chooses to go to school (this is why I CANNOT deal with complaining about opportunities to go to school and get an education).  I'm grinning as I type, because she wants to be a teacher.  I believe in her and I can't wait to see her dream become a reality.  Her name is Maso and she is most assuredly part of our family.  I see her tenacity everyday in how Tyson will not quit until he masters what he sets his mind to.  I see her courage everyday when I watch him face new circumstances, challenges, or struggles with sheer determination.  I see her bravery everyday when he chooses to notice our differences, or chooses not to cry when school is hard, or chooses to try something new that initially seems scary.  I see here flawless ebony skin and killer hair everyday when I look at his face and fix his hair which reminds me of how good his hair always smells. I see her love for learning everyday when I teach him something  and he just flat out gets it on the first time.  It's really unbelievable, if I am being honest.  I see her selflessness everyday when he willingly offers others his last piece of candy, his favorite toy, or his clothes, food, YOU NAME IT.  He literally can't NOT share or think of others first.  It's my favorite trait of hers that I see in him.  Just like Brycen looks like my dad, and Regan seems to be looking more and more like me, and Corbin is a sweet mix, and Hudson looks like Mark gave birth to him exactly like Mark (and acts exactly like him, too!), I love that I get to know Maso by getting to know Tyson.  A year ago I didn't know his favorite food (which happens to be sperghetti spaghetti today), his favorite color (right now it's blue), his uncanny ability to know what I need before I need it and seems to be waiting with what I need next in his hands, or his contagious laugh.  As he asked me earlier in the week if Brycen, Regan, Corbin, and Hudson were all born in America BLESS I wasn't initially tracking with him.  But then he said, "I thought so because they have yellow skin and since I have brown skin I was born in Africa."  It was a great opportunity to explain that not everyone with brown skin was born in Africa, but also to tell him AGAIN how beautiful he is and about Maso having perfect brown skin like him.  It's those conversations that take me back and bluntly remind me that she gave him so much that I couldn't.  I love her for that.  I love that she gave him a chance at life and those beautiful curls and that she gave us the humbling, distinct privilege to meet her.  She gave us the chance to be his parents.  She gave me the responsibility and HONOR to be his mom.  I am so grateful she realized I could give him something she couldn't.  The weight of that humility and selfless love continues to weigh on me.... it's a yoke I gladly bear. 
On this Mother's Day, I am also celebrating Brycen Woods McKeehan.  He made me a mom and he continues to teach me so much.  He is self-disciplined like few people I know.  He is a hard-worker and passionate about basketball, food, and all things Florida Gators gag me.  I am mostly celebrating his love for others, hunger for God's Word, and his leadership role in our family.  Despite his being (way) taller than me, I love that he never pulls away from a kiss from me, even in front of his friends. 
I am also celebrating Regan Claire McKeehan.  I am not sure I have ever known (literally) anyone so sensitive to the needs of others.  The only thing bigger than her joy is her heart.  Just this week she said, "I try to be her friend, even though she is kind of annoying, because no one else is her friend..."  She is a creative mind with a passion for theater, music, film editing, and photography.  She often mentions what God is teaching her from her quiet times and then I see her noticeably change as a result of those times with Him.  She loves a coffee date with her Momma and there is no other girl on planet earth I would rather have coffee with than her. 
Next, I celebrate Corbin Vaughn McKeehan.  I love how he keeps us all on our toes with his "Corbinese."  He tends to have his own language, often combining words and saying words in unique ways, which I LOVE.  He, too, is creative, and so gentle.  He is compassionate toward others and thrives on words of affirmation.  Corbin loves to collect things and keeps everything.  He loves to curl up beside me every night and fall asleep on the couch holding my hand.  There is no other 8 year old on planet earth I would rather have than him.
Next, I celebrate Hudson Daniel McKeehan.  No one can flip his hair and bat his blue eyes like Hudson Dan.  He has charisma and a sense of humor that few have.  He loves things neat and organized and he folds laundry better than me.  I am not complaining. He always gives his best to whatever he is doing.... schoolwork, handwriting, basketball, drawing a picture, folding a shirt, etc.  He takes great pride in a job well done.  Hudson is a social guy who has many friends and who loves deeply.  One of my favorite parts of any day is when he is going to bed and he says, "Bend down, Mom, so I can give you our special kiss."  Then, he kisses my forehead, my right cheek, my left cheek, the tip of my nose, and finally my lips. 
Lastly, I celebrate Tyson Asnake McKeehan.  Just typing McKeehan by his name is surreal.  Tyson is kind and gentle.  He is very smart and VERY witty.  He thoroughly enjoys a good nap, long hugs, and anything sweet to eat.  He gives hundreds of spontaneous hugs a day and loves to help me cook dinner, clean the bathrooms, vacuum the rugs, bag the groceries... you name it, he is helping with it he even likes to "help" me pump gas.  My favorite part of today was when he laid his head over on my shoulder just before bed, exhausted from a long day of playing hard outside, and he said, "tomorrow is Mother's Day.  I love you being my mom."  I scooped him up and rocked him to sleep with tears hot in my eyes. 
This Mother's Day is special at our house.  The Lord continues to grow our hearts, our love, and our home with more than we could've ever thought, imagined, or dreamed.  I am undone with gratitude that He lets us live this life.  It's all Jesus and only Jesus will do.
Wherever you are celebrating or however you might be grieving, I am mindful of you as this day begins.  For some of you, you might wish the day wouldn't come, as it brings so much pain.  You aren't alone.  Whatever your circumstances, I simply want you to know that you are loved.  You are appreciated.  You are enough.  And there is no one else like you on earth.  Today, I celebrate you. 

And Maso.  I honor and celebrate and pray for Maso. 

Happy Mother's Day.