Attachment, "Felt Safety," and what difference they make

With adoption comes all kinds of new lingo.  I sat with a new friend at Starbucks recently as we discussed our adoptions.  She (and her husband) are waiting to travel to Ethiopia SOON to bring home their son.  We both felt an instantaneous connection because we could just talk without having to explain what a I-600A, I-600, USCIS, PAIR letter, MOWYCA letter, attachment, "felt safety", and other lingo are.  We just knew.  It brought instant connection to us because someone else "got it" without having to defend or explain (and it was nice to be able to cry together talking about the grief our boys have experienced, will experience, and the pain of transition).  I've learned more about immigration and the government than I ever cared to know, but it's just part of it. Can't take the blessing without being willing to take the burden.  I could probably have a full conversation in government acronyms and form names and someone overhearing would likely accuse me of having some kind of foul mouth.  It's been a lot to digest, but we are digesting it and working through it (it takes a village).  If you talk with nearly any foster or adoptive parent on the planet words like "felt safety" and "attachment" are likely part of their lingo, too.  A brilliant and caring woman, Dr. Karyn Purvis, Ph.D., coined the words, in her books/literature about bringing at-risk children into  loving families and making them feel secure there.  One of her books, "The Connected Child," is one I am re-reading (because let's be real, I don't remember ONE WORD from when I read it three years ago.  Suffice it to say A LOT of water is under the bridge since then).  But, I am finding it as fascinating and practical this go around as I did on my first read through.  I will briefly explain some of these terms (and it will be brief as loads and loads of books have been written on these topics in an effort to explain them) and then figure out what in the world difference they make anyway.

First, is attachment.  Seems simple enough. Well, it ain't (excuse the TERRIBLE English.  Just seems appropriate. And in East Tennessee it is always acceptable).  Attachment is, essentially, the first BIG goal adoptive parents have for their children.  It impacts everything.... how you speak (tone, number of words you use, when you speak, etc), how you respond (anger, gentleness, guilt, love, etc), how you discipline (time IN versus time OUT, using few words-but making the words count, giving re-do's, etc), and how you spend your time (keeping child close, eye contact, imitating, being focused on home life, etc).  Again, as I type, it sounds so simple.  Fleshing out effective methods to make a child feel secure is HARD (from what I have read and heard from numerous adoptive families).  Perhaps the key reason attachment is so hard is found in one word: TRUST.  In a nutshell, attachment is the bond a child has with his parent.  It gets complicated with adopted kids because they don't grow up knowing and trusting their parents.  When the only person in the world you've been able to trust is yourself, relinquishing that trust to someone else can feel impossible.  There is an expectation that when children come into a secure, loving family there WILL be full-blown temper tantrums (of course there are exceptions, but this is expected).  Not the tantrums that involve heated words and harsh looks or tears.  We are talking full-blown kicking feet, banging arms and head on the floor tantrums (even when children are "older" such as 7, 8, 9, 10, or older).  There just comes a time when too much has been taken and the only things that are familiar are the survival mechanisms that allowed these children to make it this long.  Something snaps, or reminds, or causes overwhelming fear and BAM, just like that, a tantrum.  These at-risk, vulnerable kiddos have relied on no one else, or lying, or manipulating, or withdrawing, or people -pleasing to survive.  Once children learn that parents and homes are trustworthy, theses tantrums happen less and less frequently (from what I read).  Many parents report vividly remembering the first day, the first week they went without their child having a meltdown. But, let's be real, no trust on planet earth comes overnight. One of the methods I continue to read about to help build trust is consistency. Even if you have been over it 1.35784930 million times before, these children need to know you won't walk away if they make that choice one more time.  The warm-blood flowing through my veins can get a tad bit antsy thinking through the crazy amount of PATIENCE this is gonna take. Because, let's just say it: This sweet boy is going to come to us and he isn't going to know how to behave like a McKeehan.  There. I said it.  It's a process.  Hang with me.  This is all going to make sense. Attachment.... its foundation is trust and it's built only through consistent, gracious, patient, intentional love and discipline. 

Then, there is this concept of "felt safety." This strategy (according to Dr. Purvis in "The Connected Child") helps eliminate tantrums while building trust.  The key is to create an environment where the child feels safe.  Eventually, this will allow him to experience the safety firsthand.  Again, over time, he will begin to trust the environment in which he has been placed and then, he will trust the people in that environment once he realizes he doesn't have to rely solely on himself.  Shew.  It makes sense on the one hand, but on the other hand, it just isn't something we give a second thought to when we give birth to biological children.  Those are the days we were learning about breastfeeding, registering for a baby registry, picking out names, and trying to figure out how to rest when the baby rests while also keeping up with laundry, cleaning, and grocery shopping.  There's always something, isn't there? I digress.  Back to attachment and "felt safety."  What in the world does this have to do with anyone besides families trying to integrate new children into their family?  I am so glad you asked.  I literally can't wait to tell you.  It's what I have been spinning my wheels on for days.  I can't seem to type fast enough.  

I have written various posts about adoption being judicial, loving, costly, just like our adoption in Christ.  As Gentiles, we are the foreigner, taken in by a Father who didn't have to accept us.  We were the ones with a different language, different culture, different festivals, different appearance.  We, as Gentiles, aren't anything like Jews (God's chosen people).  Yet, Galatians 3:28, is one of my favorite verses because it reminds us that we are no longer Jew or Gentile.  For those who have trusted the work of Jesus Christ on the cross to cover our sin, we are all children of God.  It reads, "There is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male or female.  For you are all Christians-you are one Christ Jesus."  Paul was writing to the Galatians who were beginning to give up their freedom in Christ to serve the law again. It was foolish!  Paul was urging them to remember what they had been delivered from, reminding them they were now children of God.  What difference would it make?  It wouldn't make A difference, it would be THE difference.  Everything hinged on their "getting" who they were.  {insert heavy sigh}.   Some things truly never change.  The more I have correlated the relationship between physical adoption and spiritual adoption the more BLOWN AWAY I am at Jesus.  Seriously. During the LONG season of waiting, I was always keenly aware of His patience waiting on us as we live with no knowledge or care of Him, going about our lives using our own survival mechanisms.  The book about attachment even lists things that adopted children usually bring to the family (each one can have a varying number of these, most do not have them all): depression, anger, anxiety, insecurity, fear, abandonment/loss/grief issues, attachment dysfunctions (TRUST ISSUES), just to name a few.  Somebody follow me.  Please.  When we first come into a relationship with Jesus, He knows we are vulnerable, at-risk children.  We come with all manner of methods and strategies to survive.  With all our man-made concepts, we also bring a whole big bunch of BAGGAGE.  We come with fear, insecurity, depression, anger, anxiety, TRUST ISSUES.  Is anyone else willing to give a big ol' "Amen" shout?  Guess what?  We don't come into a relationship with Jesus knowing how to act like a Child of His.  And, when Holy Spirit takes residence inside us, we can nearly immediately see there is going to be a rub between the survival skills of "the old man" versus the ones Holy Spirit is asking us to flesh out.  The old man relied heavily on what eyes can see, hands can hold, ears can hear, or minds can understand.  The new man, however, is asked to do the impossible: TRUST a new authority.  Cue temper tantrum.  Full-blown tantrum with arms banging, head crashing, feet kicking.  Maybe you are more reserved or polished than me, but when God asks me to do something contrary to what my old flesh had grown accustomed to, something in me wants to run. Fight or Flight, a common theme in books about adoption and vulnerable children.  Before we knew Jesus we had developed our own ways to survive.  We knew how to manipulate circumstances, steal someone else's joy, grow bitter with jealousy, withdraw when taking an emotional/relational risk.  The new man, filled with Holy Spirit must exchange every old way of doing things with new ways to do things.  Not easy.  It sounds so simple.  It ain't (not even going to justify that one).  The more I have read about attachment and "felt safety" the more my mind has been drawn to Jesus.  Every suggestion given to adoptive parents regarding our response to our child's grief, misbehavior, tantrums, fears, etc are the responses Jesus gives to us.  He responds to us with gentleness and patience.  Don't we just need to know that one more time of making that SAME choice won't result in abandonment?  Trusting Him takes time.  He is so patient.  He isn't one bit antsy about how much patience is required to gain our trust.  We can be told repeatedly that He is trustworthy.  But, our trust only grows when He is PROVEN to be trustworthy experientially.  FELT SAFETY.  Over time, little by little, we begin to see His steadfastness.  His lack of being ONE IOTA intimidated by our CRAZY amount of dysfunction and baggage.  Rather, we find consistent love.  Communion that is reciprocated, a sort of imitating.  We actually begin to act like Him.  Maybe even resemble Him from time to time.  When we need discipline He doesn't put us in time out, but rather, He draws us IN, closer to Him (Thank you, Holy Spirit for conviction-it's the source of the drawing in rather than the pushing away).  In these conversations it's as if we can actually sense His bending His head down to us in order for us to make eye contact.  Then, eventually, our tantrums get less frequent and less volatile.  We begin to care less about what our circumstances say and more about His provision for us regardless of our circumstances.  We rely less and less on our old ways of surviving, ways we had grown quite used to, I might add.  Ways that seemingly served us effectively on our path.  Yet, ways that would ultimately lead to our destruction (Proverbs 14:12).  

Just when this new jargon gets overwhelming and I fight feelings of inadequacy, I read something that reminds me that I HAVE SEEN THIS THING BEFORE.  Hello.  I have seen how attachment works, especially when it comes to insecurity and trust issues.  I have seen little by little how a rock hard exterior can crack, then chip, then fall off in a quadrillion pieces.  I have seen consistent, patient, determined, intentional love sit and watch a tantrum with merciful, graceful eyes.  I have felt tender hands of affection dust off the remnants of sod and gravel from a fall while tenderly giving me a do-over, rather than using a million harsh words to correct me.  I have known the drawing in during seasons of discipline, rather than the pushing away (withdrawing is a self-made survival mechanism).   He knows how foolish it is to begin to implement the old ways when I have been delivered and freed to use His ways, as His child.  I have known the relief of a day that leads to a week that leads to a month of not having a temper tantrum because I finally believe I am in a family with a Father that is fully trustworthy.  I bet, if you know Jesus, you have seen this thing before, too. 

So, in the days to come, if you see me with puffy, red eyes from crying and/or lack of sleep.  Or when  our son doesn't "act like a McKeehan," or when he decides that today he doesn't have ONE MORE OUNCE TO RELINQUISH, will you join me in remembering our own seasons of that rub between the old man and new man?  It's a process.  And, I for one, am SO ridiculously astounded that Jesus chose to do this for me.  Many of the books I read are by secular authors on the topic of adoption discipline and attachment.  I am forever amazed at how each one mimics the gospel.  Physical adoption really is the most tangible picture of spiritual adoption to the watching world.  Without this process (good, bad, and jargon), there is so much I would've missed about who I am in Him.  How He loves, pursues, disciplines, and takes us in.  Take note today about your own bond with your Father.  If you are well attached, it hasn't come without pain, tears, and turmoil.  If you are still struggling with trust issues, relying on your own survival skills, be patient with yourself.  It's a process.  But, choose to trust him with the small. Then, you will more easily trust Him with the big.  But, don't take my word for it.  You have to experience it to develop "felt safety." Eventually, you will look back and not even recognize yourself.  You'll likely resemble your Father.  And, He is beautiful.  

Never Once.

A face. A Name.

Both are things we have dreamt of for so long, we were beginning to think we were wishing for a fairy tale that would never come true.  But, one phone call on a seemingly "normal" day changed our lives forever.  I was volunteering in the school cafeteria, just like I always do on Monday's from 11:30a-1:00p. Mark was an hour-and-a-half away at a staff retreat that had only begun that morning.  As I was wrapping up my cafeteria duties with my sweet friend Teresa, who also volunteers on Mondays, Olivia (a dear friend to our family who also happens to be Mark's assistant at church) came by and said, "Call Mark."  Knowing he was on staff retreat and knowing all he had prayed through regarding vision and future of the church, I had no intentions of interrupting  his time or focus there.  So, I said, "He wants me to call?  Is everything ok?" She simply (with a half grin) nodded yes.  I washed my hands, went to grab phone, and assumed he must be needing my opinion or input regarding something that may have come up on the retreat.  No answer.  I put my phone in my back pocket and kept working.  By this time it was 12:50 and I was nearly finished with all my responsibilities.  My phone rang and it was him.  When I answered I knew my first inclination about his needing my input was off.  He said, " I love you more than anything.  I never wanted to do this over the phone.  And I am probably going to mess this whole thing up. We are getting a referral today." I could hear him smiling while he was talking.  I hit my knees with immediate (loud) sobs repeating, "Today? Are you serious?  We get to see a face today?" I asked at some point if he knew the age or gender and he said, " I know the gender. Do you want me to tell you now?" UM, YES.  "It's a boy and I promise that is all I know." Sweet Teresa had no idea what was happening because my words weren't coherent, but my sobs most assuredly convinced her something horrible had just happened to someone in my family.  But, there on the cafeteria floor I was able to know for sure what I had only been able to sing in faith, "Never once did we ever walk alone. Never once did He leave us on our own."

Never Once.

Turns out, two or three years ago Mark called our local agency director, Terri, and asked her to call him first when it came time for us to receive our referral so he could surprise me with flowers or something special to give me the news.  In his focus on the retreat, my working in the cafeteria, and us being nearly two hours apart, that part of the plan fell through the cracks and neither of us cared one bit.  Mark told me over the phone he was en route to me at the church, I was to stay there.  Then, he said Terri and Lauren (our local branch case worker for the majority of our process) were coming to meet us there at 2:00pm.  I couldn't get my heart to slow, the tears to cease, or my hands to stop shaking.  Just two weeks earlier I had emailed our case worker in Grand Rapids (main Bethany office) to ask about movement regarding particular cases we had discussed weeks before.  Based on the response, we really believed the earliest there would even be a chance to receive a referral would be a couple of more weeks.  So, this was totally not expected.  Not to mention, I had always believed Bethany was going to call me first with the news.  So, I had never played out in my mind hearing it from Mark, especially not over the phone.  In the cafeteria.  Wearing an apron.  

But, when hope seems lost or far away, we are guaranteed one thing: we are never alone.

Never Once.

The hour went by slowly, but gave me time to call my mom (who couldn't understand me because of my sobs), call my sister (who asked a million questions that I wished at the time I had known the answer to.... like, "How old is he?"), and try to regain my composure.  I didn't regain my composure before walking down the "grand hallway" at church with loud sobs and having to stop, put my head down on one the window sills, and sob a loud, ugly, relieved cry repeating, "Thank you, Jesus.  You are Faithful."  And, it was UGLY.  I walked into the church office and there stood Olivia.  She had left me 30 minutes earlier with a simple, "call Mark."  She was not completely sure we had received our referral, but she suspected so because Terri had called the church office trying to reach Mark.  She took one look at me and knew.  We hugged a long, tearful hug and then I told her the little bit I knew: meeting Terri and Lauren at 2:00 and it's a boy.  I had so many questions and yet, I already had so many answers.  I knew the wait had already been worth it.  I knew God had ordained the events of the day before He laid the foundations of the earth.  I knew He was the Faithful One along the way, despite my waves of doubt, fear, frustration, and anger.  I knew He had given us promise after promise and He hadn't wavered on a single one.

Never Once.

I was waiting for Mark in the church parking lot when he pulled up.  He barely turned the car off when his door opened and he ran to me.  We hugged and cried right there in the parking lot.  And it was a sweet hug full of relief and praise.  It was our first hug and cry, knowing we had a new son.  I was still not forming complete, intelligible sentences, but with him, I didn't need to.  He knew.  Time was crawling and when Terri and Lauren (and our sweet friend from church, Hannah, who happens to be working at Bethany now!) pulled up I was pacing the floor.  THIS WAS REALLY HAPPENING.  I prayed no one would pinch me because if it was a dream I did NOT want to wake up.  As they entered the church office carrying flowers, words weren't necessary.  There were lots of long, teary hugs for us all.  They have faithfully waited with us, listened to us vent (numerous times), walked with us through seasons of doubt (just a month earlier we were praying about changing countries), and now, they were there to celebrate this special day.  These ladies have stood with us through the fire.  I can't adequately tell you how much they have done, given, listened, fought with/for us.  Today was the day we had all waited for.  Turns out, we wouldn't get photos and details of our sweet boy until the next day.  We knew we had waited four years and that he was around that age.  But, we were ok with that.... we knew it was coming and we knew we were ready.  As Mark and I glanced at one another standing in the church office, one of us (I can't remember which one) said, "Are you ready to tell the kids?" So, we asked the school office to have Brycen and Regan come to the church office.  I am tearful simply recounting it.  As Brycen walked in a few seconds ahead of Regan, Mark looked at him and said, "You have a four year old brother in Africa."  I could see the instant tears fill his eyes, but he tried to bat them away.  I reassured him, "You can cry, buddy, you have waited so well," as I brought him and hugged him tight.  Tears fell.  About that time Regan entered and I knew she already knew.  Mark dropped down to his knees, arms open and said, "You have a four year old brother in Africa" as she fell onto his shoulder already crying.  They have waited, longed, prayed and held fast with us.  They never wavered in believing today would come.

Never Once.

It was such a sweet time and it was extra sweet having so many loving friends around to share in it and to video and snap pictures.  By this time my mom had arrived and, again, we shared long, tear-filled hugs.  Then, Mark, Brycen, Regan, Mom, and me went to Hudson's classroom. It was nap time but he was awake.  I asked his teacher if we could have him and I whispered, "We got matched for our adoption today."  She, through her immediate tears, helped me get him up and gather his things.  He seemed to understand, but we had never prepared him for being a big brother, because we were open to a 0-7 year old.  So, we were never sure he would be a big brother.  When we told him, a huge smile came across his face and he said, "Tyson?"  (the name we will call him). I cried again and said, "Yes. Tyson."  We walked down the hall to Corbin's class.  I poked my head in to find him in reading group and asked if I could have him.  I mouthed to his teacher, "We got our referral."  Again, she had immediate tears.  These teachers and faculty have walked and waited so well with us.  Regan wanted to tell Corbin.  So, there we stood surrounding him and she said, "Guess what, Buddy? We got our referral today and we have a 4 year old brother in Africa."  It took him a second to understand and to make sense of it and finally he said, "Tyson?"  YES!!!  I asked if he wanted to go tell his teacher and he said, "Um, Mom, she is in reading group."  I almost laughed out loud and assured him it would be ok to tell her anyway.  When we entered the room she was already crying and she let him tell his class.  Then, we made our way to Brycen's class where he stood and proudly cried telling his sixth grade classmates/teacher that we had been matched.  It was tender to see his vulnerability in front of them about it.  We praised him for it later.  Then, we caught up with Regan's class while they were in PE.  Her teacher went with us to tell them.  Regan's girlfriends circled around her and cried, hugging and holding her.  I just can't adequately express how well this community at Freedom Christian Academy has waited with us.  They have never made us feel alone or forgotten along the way.

Never once.

As the day went on, we kept coming back to THE BEARD.  It was SHAVE DAY.  When Mark first declared he wouldn't shave until we had a referral NO ONE ON PLANET EARTH thought it would be four LONG years later until we would see those dimples!  As it turned out, our thoughtful friend, Donald Page, texted and asked if we would want him to photograph (he is, after all, a professional photographer) the shave.  It was something we had never talked about, but we are SO thankful he thought of it.  Those pictures of all six of us piled into the bathroom are priceless to us already.  Sweet Hudson was one when Mark started growing his beard.  Needless to say, Hudson didn't remember a clean-shaved, dimple-having Daddy.  The pictures of him rubbing Mark's face are my favorite.  Such a tangible reminder of the Faithful One.  The One who watched over us while never taking His eyes off our son living on the other side of the globe.

Never once.

That night gave way to planning and dreaming and crying.  I didn't sleep NOT ONE WINK.  We had a scheduled conference call for 8am on Tuesday morning to see his face, know his name, hear his story.  It couldn't come fast enough.  However, in the night as I prayed and cried and prayed and cried, I couldn't help but think about and pray for all those who are still longing and waiting.  There simply isn't anything on planet earth like the heartbreak that comes from a longing heart.  Nothing compares to it.  My heart has been so tender toward those still in a season of waiting.  I recounted the millions of times I sang Matt Redman's "Never Once" to the top of my lungs in faith.  I also recounted the millions of times I could only mouth the words while tears streamed down my face because my heart so desperately wanted to believe the words.  Laying in bed that night with an age and a gender, I knew all those other sleepless nights of crying and longing hadn't been in vain.  He had heard them all.  He had been there.  He had never left.

NEVER ONCE.

As darkness gave way to morning, I was up and moving.  Adrenaline was high for everyone. The kids went to school late so they could stay home to see his picture.  We had always planned (since we started this process) to have our friend, Tony Pettis (who also happens to be a photographer), photograph our seeing his face for the first time.  So, knowing we would have our conference call at 8am, Tony graciously arrived at 7:30am and set up a video camera as well as doing still shots.  I don't know how to adequately say "thank you" for such a priceless gift, but we are SO thankful.  As 8:00am rolled around we were logged in and speaker phone on for our conference call. This is us, logged in, waiting for our conference call to begin.

 Around 8:05am we heard the voice of Jennifer, our beloved agency worker in Grand Rapids.  Sweet Jennifer has been through everything with us... always being patient with our questions, our frustrations, our seasons of doubt and fear.  It was so sweet to hear her voice on the other side, knowing this day was one she, too, had longed for.  I don't remember her exact words (I was a bit UNDONE OVER THE WHOLE SITUATION).  I had Kleenex in my lap and it didn't take long for them to come in handy.  She began by telling us about our son's story, about his family, about the circumstances that led to his becoming orphaned.  I cried.  Here we are listening to Jennifer tell us about our son and we are hearing his name and story for the very first time.

Here's the thing about adoption:  It is GRIEF and LOSS mixed together with HOPE and JOY.  Often, it becomes difficult to tell where one stops and the other begins.  After hearing about him, Jennifer stated that they would upload his information and pictures to our Bethany portal page.  Our computer's refresh button hit an all-time high that morning.  But, finally, we saw files loaded and it felt like none of them were loading fast enough.  I am crying as I type just thinking about what it was like to see his face for the first time.

 Sheer joy.  Sheer emotion.  Never once did I doubt that moment would be worth the battles we have fought over the last four years.

Never once.

And I was right.  Nearly immediately Mark looked at me and said, "he was worth it."  And, he IS so worth it.  I can't give a lot of details about him since he isn't legally our son (YET).  Suffice it to say, we are ALL smitten to our cores by this little guy.  We kept looking at his pictures and just the night before I had said, "I will be happy with whatever information they will send, but I would love to hear his voice."  As we continued scrolling through and opening files, we saw one of him singing.  Isn't the Lord kind?  I watched, grinning from ear to ear.... almost in disbelief.  A face. A birthday. A name.  A height. A weight.  Favorite foods.  Favorite toys.  His daily schedule.  All in a moment, it felt so surreal and yet SO REAL all at the same time. The kids came barreling up the steps when we called to see him.  They were SO excited!

 So many details about his story and the timing of significant things in his life correlate perfectly and beautifully to specific seasons of prayer and struggle for us.  Struggle.  That's the thing.... reading all of his information, his tendencies, his story....I kept finding my finger running across the name of his birth mom.  Right there, in black and white in front of me.  Her name.  No one this side of heaven knows the hours I have prayed for her and thought about her.  Even, often times, wondering if she was still alive.  Our greatest joy is her greatest heartache and grief.  I long to tell her that I will love him like I love all four of our biological children.  To let her know he will have every opportunity they will have.  To assure her he is loved without condition or boundary.  To look her in the eye and tell her how courageous and brave and strong she is.  To hug her with every ounce of gratitude that is in me.  God's plan for her is good. It is to prosper her and He has never forsaken her.  Mother's Day was full of sweet joy this year on the one hand.  Knowing his name and staring at every detail of his face (and listening to him sing!) made this Mother's Day so different than the past few.  Knowing her name also made it different.  I am just mindful of her sacrifice and the depth of love she must have for him.  I never (EVER) want to take that for granted.

Never once.

So, here we are.  We have come so far, but we have a long way to go still.  It is highly likely we won't  be able to travel to go get him for 10-12 months (from referral day).  There is a lot of paper work still to do and two governments working hard to cross every "t" and dot every "i."  We would so appreciate your prayers for (1) speedy paperwork.  We are waiting for documents from Ethiopia that are required for us to complete our next level of immigration paperwork.  Court will close in Ethiopia from August to October for rainy season.  Therefore, we cannot get a court date during those months. We are really wanting to do our part to complete paperwork in an expedited manner in order to let God do what only He can do.  (2)Please pray our son continues to grow and learn. He seems to be a healthy little guy.  He has overcome so much.  Pray for his days to be full of hope and laughter.  We pray for peace and safety to overwhelm him and for him to supernaturally be knit together to us when we meet him.  (3)Pray for his birth mom.  Human words won't do here... I can't even type up what to specifically pray for except for her to have peace and comfort.  Jesus knows what she needs.  (4) Pray for our family as we continue to prepare.  We are working hard at home to get things ready for another boy (a new Superheroes bedroom has already made its way here).  Pray for each of us to have realistic expectations for when he is home and a continued excitement about his coming!  Also, we have prayed all along that Corbin (6 years) and Hudson (5 years) will supernaturally understand what is happening.  They seem to both totally "get it." Pray this continues.  (5) We have paid all of our agency/country fees (YAY!) and we are currently saving for travel.  We have decided that rather than making two trips about 7-8 weeks apart, each lasting 7-14 days, to make one long trip (3-4 weeks).  This will allow us to get custody of him after our court hearing (just a couple days after we arrive) and we won't have to leave him.  This would also allow us to take Brycen and Regan with us for the same cost of us making two trips,  if the Lord provides for that.  We believe those days/weeks in his country will be priceless, treasured days of bonding.  I don't want to take one of them for granted.
In closing, I can't adequately express how grateful we are for you, our community, who has walked tirelessly with us.  You have longed with us, cried with us, and prayed with us.  We still need you to pray with us to GET HIM HOME.  But, one of the sweetest (if not THE sweetest) parts about this entire process has been the support and love we have received from you.  There have been days it has completely overwhelmed us (in a good way!).  Of all the days I felt alone, I knew in the deepest parts of who I am,  we hadn't been alone one day.

Never once.

And, to someone reading who is still in a season of darkness and waiting. Or longing or grief..... speak over your situation, in faith, what you believe you will one day be able to speak over it in sight.  For me, it was that beautiful worship song, "Never Once."  I often sang the words dreaming about what it would be like to sing them on this side.  And, the lyrics are woven into my heartstrings.  He is the Faithful One.  He is the One fighting battles on our behalf.  He is the One to praise.  He never leaves us.

Never Once.

When Hope Gets Long

I've felt compelled to write numerous times in the past couple of weeks.  I've started more times than I care to admit and deleted it all.  Longing with all my heart to be authentic in this process while also longing with all my heart to walk it well for the Name and Fame of Jesus is always what prompts, propels, or stops me.  He has taught me there is a balance that allows me to do both... I have simply been around enough to know I don't have to share EVERYTHING to be authentic. Let's be real, no one wants to hear or know how many days I fight wanting to curl up in a ball and cry all day over this process. At the same time, I've had some of the most intimate, tender moments with the Lord through the process that I want to keep just between us.  So, therein lies the issue... what to share and what NOT to share.  How much of the good, bad, and ugly do people REALLY want to hear and care about? More importantly, how much will they really pray about?  I don't ever want to pass on info for the sake of passing it on or giving anyone (or everyone) something to talk about.  The reason behind the posts is central: prayer.  The community God has graciously surrounded us with has been unbelievably supportive, prayerful, and loving through this journey and we want to include everyone with "the latest."  I am the one who lacks in passing this information along because I get weary trying to sort through it myself sometimes, I certainly wouldn't ask someone else to try to (someone please laugh or smirk at the mere thought of trying to understand or comprehend this process). So, in an effort to let you know what has been in my head and heart over the past few months, I will simply give bullet points of random thoughts/lessons/updated info.  I will preface it all by saying how grateful I am the Lord has led me to start a new Bible Study in this season, "Children of the Day," by Beth Moore.  It is an in-depth study of First and Second Thessalonians.  Over the course of the last 3 and half months I have been memorizing First Thessalonians.  However, it wasn't until this study that the Lord opened my heart and eyes in a fresh way to one of the very first verses of the book.  First Thessalonians 1:3 reads, "We recall, in the presence of our God and Father, your work of faith, labor of love, and endurance of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ."
Faith. Hope. Love.  The way Beth Moore explained this verse, jumped off the pages like salve to my wounded, raw, hurting heart.  She wrote the three themes Paul was addressing like this: Faith can be work. Love can be labor.  Hope can get long.
As I sucker-punched these truths straight into my gut, I prayed they would make their way to my head and most importantly, to my heart.  This process has tested (and continues to) every one of these themes.  Faith CAN be work.  Believing God is working and moving despite what my eyes can see takes active, growing, fighting-for faith.  Love CAN be labor.  Sometimes I want to focus on the labor part more than the love part; somehow wanting to justify how I am supposed to keep loving someone when it is so stinkin' hard.  I am sure someone reading this can identify. And finally,

HOPE CAN GET LONG.

I am so thankful for a sympathetic Savior Who knows all too well this truth.  Repeatedly, He calls us to endure.  Not to sprint and hold our breath.  Persevere.  Don't quit just because it doesn't go your way or it gets tough.  Tougher than you ever thought it could or would even.  I have engraved these four words permanently over this season of life, knowing hope can get long, BUT it never runs out.  Ever.  I tend to want to be done.  To wither up and cry and think of all the "what if's?"  Not hope.  It might get long, but it never gives up or runs out or gets too emotionally exhausted to fight another day.  So.... here are my bullet points, all framed around this one theme:

HOPE CAN GET LONG.

*Mother's Day in the wait is hard.  Perhaps harder than Christmas or Easter or birthdays.  Combined.  God has grown my heart to be more tender toward those who are in different seasons of waiting or grieving on Mother's Day.  Celebrating motherhood, blessings of children, and mothers gifted to us is certainly one important side.  On the other side, however, are those longing, hoping, waiting, fighting back tears at the mere thought of their arms being empty. still. again.  I certainly am not alone on this one.  Many of you are right here in the wait.  As we walk through these next few days, don't buy into the lie the enemy has told you... one that somehow has convinced us a magnifying glass is passing over us on this day so everyone can see how we handle ourselves.  How we are holding up.  It's a lie.  Don't buy it.  Cling to the promise that He sees. He knows.  He cares.  He said it Himself. Psalm 56:8, "You keep track of all my sorrows.  You have collected all my tears in your bottle.  You have recorded each one in your book."  You aren't alone, even though it can be lonely.  I am not alone. You are not alone.  Not on Mother's Day or any other day. But, the truth is, it is still hard.

*This is a grieving process.  It has taken me over three years of waiting to finally be able to look at a friend recently and say,"I am grieving," with tears streaming down my face.  I told you it can get ugly.  This grief is so different than losing someone you love.  It's complicated to love and miss someone you've never held or known.  It's no less grief.  And, allowing myself the freedom to walk through the emotions of that, even when it isn't understood by everyone, has allowed so much healing for me. I am thankful for friends who understand and cry with me.... where I don't have to justify why it is grief.  The fact is, I am heart broken and missing someone I love very much.  I am in no way saying I understand what it is like to lose someone as dear to me as a child... I would be a fool to be as presumptuous as to do that.  Walking that path with friends has certainly taught me the two aren't the same.  Both grief.  But, different.

*We are one day closer.  Hope can get long.  But, several nights a week before our eyes close in sleep, I say to Mark, "We are one day closer."  And, it's true.  For the first time in over a year the Ethiopia program seems to be having more referrals coming in and being given to families more consistently in recent months which (hopefully) is a move in the right direction.  Literally, we could get a call any day.

*We opened up to siblings (up to two).  A couple of weeks ago we had our home study update (we have to do home study updates yearly, background checks, fingerprinting locally every year/federally every 18 months, submit updated paperwork to immigration, etc... it's a process and it's ongoing...).  During the home study we are always given the chance to change our preferences.  Initially, we didn't open to siblings because we were interested in adopting a girl. Gender preferences get complicated in siblings, so to open to siblings would've meant being open to two boys.  So, since updating our gender preference in December to boy or girl, we opened to a sibling group of up to two.  Simply put, this means we might get one boy or girl or a sibling group of two boys, two girls, or one of each.

*I am learning to really trust God's processes.  As this journey moves on in time far longer than anyone on this planet ever suspected it would, I forced open the pages of scripture asking God to please allow me to walk with someone who had been called to some kind of God-given process.  I am tickled as I type that.  God flung the doors wide open on the pages of scripture.  Abraham/Sarah, Noah, King David, Children of Israel, Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, Jacob, Paul, John, Jesus.... the list goes on and on (and on....).  All of these were followers of Jesus who were called to do things that took a LONG TIME.  And often, scripture notes, they were called to do them BECAUSE of their faith in God.  Processes that took far longer than they expected, thought, or imagined.  120 years to build a boat you'd only need 40 days and nights?  God is SO in the process.  And, as a result, He has taught me to trust Him more, seek Him more, comfort in Him more, delight in Him more, rely on Him more, call on Him more.  In my study of God and the process I came back upon a verse I have known and loved for years.  Yet, again, it just lifted my spirits and my hope.  Isaiah 61:3, "To all who mourn in Israel, he will give beauty for ashes, joy instead of mourning, praise instead of despair.  For the Lord has planted them that they may be oaks of righteousness for the display of His splendor."  He plants us, knowing what is to come.  Knowing to go from "a planting" to "an oak of righteousness" will come with rain, storms, heat from the blazing sun, and time.  A process.  In the end, if we don't give way to bitterness and cynicism, we will be able to display His glory.  However, it comes with a process.  I tend to want the Lord to plant me like a mighty oak... but, He knows I would wither and die in no time flat out of feelings of self-sufficiency.  The process isn't always fun.  But, I am believing Him that it is always worth it.

*I am convinced more now than ever that this is what God called us to.  As I  have searched my heart and mind and feelings and Bible over the course of the last 6 or 8 months, there are days I have wondered if somehow we missed what God was saying.  Tenderly, He has confirmed it over and over (often through those processes in scripture... they might get long and hard, but it's still what He called us to).  Recently, in one study of passages I could hardly write as fast as I felt like the Holy Spirit was speaking.  My hand wanted a break, my heart was just getting started.  To not bore you, in a nutshell, I realized in a fresh way (it wasn't new information, but it was new perception) how seemingly impossible it was for Gentiles to be adopted into God's family.  Gentiles don't look like Jews, act like Jews, know all the rules to be a Jew, don't hold the same Feasts/holidays as Jews, Gentiles aren't "qualified" to God's children, nor were they expected to be.  And right there, staring at those notes, I bawled.  To the watching world, physical adoption is the most tangible picture of the gospel.  Especially for Gentiles.  Intercountry adoption usually means adopting a child that won't look like you, act like you, know your rules, hold your same holidays, speak your language.  Nothing about it seems to make sense.  Nothing about it seems "right." The cost is high.  The risk is higher.  Yet, He did whatever it took to make a way for us, Gentiles, to be adopted.  In this, I sat back with tears pouring out of my eyes splattering on the floor.  Whispering into my spirit with tenderness and love, "It's what I called you to do BECAUSE it doesn't make sense.  Like YOUR spiritual adoption.  Because some people aren't going to understand... like the Jews didn't understand.  BECAUSE it's costly (and not just financial) and because it's risky."  God knowing the cost, Jesus paying the price, didn't look at the time, the risk, the cost, the ability for us to make sense of it all.  The focus was on giving us a future and a hope.  For that to happen, there was only one way.  On days I am particularly struggling, I remember this... Our child has a future and a hope, but getting there won't be easy.  Black and white.  Rich and Poor.  Named and unnamed.  educated and uneducated.  Jew and Gentile.
All are welcome here, at the foot of the cross.  Praise you, Jesus.

*Lastly, I have been playing our new Passion CD, "Take it All," on repeat for days.  I DO love the new songs, but more than that, I believe God is using them to, little-by-little, grow fresh flesh over some raw, oozing (sometimes hemorrhaging) parts of my heart.  One song in particular has been especially healing.  Like only she can do, Christy Nockels sings with authenticity of a life lived dependent on Jesus, the beautiful words, "And God I breathe Your name over everything. Let it be, Let it be Jesus."  Every time, I nearly cry trying to utter the words across my lips, while my heart screams the words so loud my chest hurts.  Even when HOPE GETS LONG... ESPECIALLY WHEN HOPE GETS LONG, I want to breathe His name over everything.  The lyrics go on... "Should I ever be abandoned, Should I ever be acclaimed, Should I ever be surrounded by the fire and the flame.  There's a name I will remember, there's a name I will proclaim. Let it be, Let it be Jesus."

So, there you have it.  Started out seeking to adopt one girl and we might come home with two boys.  Started out believing we would be into our second adoption by now.  Started out short on patience and long on hope.  Walking today feeling the reality that HOPE CAN GET LONG, but also confident of the reality of His steadfast love and faithfulness.  Thank you for praying for us.  I am asking God to bless you and your household 100-fold for your time invested in prayer for us.

Faith can be work.  Love can be labor.  Hope can get long.  Even still, "God, I want to breathe your name above everything.  Let it be, let it be Jesus."

Tickled Pink OR blue

I just reread my last post about being willing to yield.  I am so tickled at the Lord and His timing.  He has literally had the theme of "willing to yield" pressing in so tightly on my heart and mind, there have been days I could hardly think past those three words.  He is so kind in His ways, His words, His intentionality.  He is SO unbelievably personal.  This past Friday was a day like any other... school, visiting Santa at the local Bass Pro Shop, dinner with friends.  Nothing crazy or out of the norm for this season.  Until Mark said (as he was driving us to dinner), "hey, will you read this email.  It just came to my phone?" And then he handed me his phone.  I immediately noticed it was from a dear friend that we have grown to love and trust at Bethany (our adoption agency).  She has always been quick to encourage us, pray for us, listen through our frustration and tears. Her email started out by saying she had woken early one morning last week feeling led to pray for our family, especially knowing how difficult the holidays will be for us.  Again.  She explained that she only wants for our family what God wants for our family, and not being around early on in our adoption journey, she certainly didn't want to push us or overstep any lines.  She was writing to simply tell us what she felt the Lord was asking her to tell us.  And then she wrote, "Would you consider a son.....?"  In the end it was a sweet email saturated in prayer.  She simply asked us to spend the weekend praying about a girl OR a boy.  In this, it would obviously leave God the open door to still bring a daughter home, but it would also open up Him giving us a son.
It begged so many questions at first.  Obviously, my first thoughts went to Regan.  My second thoughts went to dreams, mental images, "L"'s on our walls, on stockings, and "Lakin" written on so many things in our home.  Both of our minds began to race... Clearly, we had discussed adopting a son with a second adoption and along this process we had discussed it numerous times.  But, we always came back to the fact that a girl is what we said and where our heads and hearts have been for 3 years.  Then, the next questions were, "why? Why did we initially say a girl?"  Three years is a long time.  Hudson was 1 and Corbin was 2... Regan was 6, Brycen was 8.  Our lives looked so different.  So did THIS process from THIS country.  When we first started it didn't matter what gender, the wait time was 3-6 months.  Did I mention a lot has changed?!  As the days, weeks, months, and years have passed, what we initially expected to happen died a long time ago.  So, we prayed.  Boy, have we prayed.  We called a few people who know us and our hearts, who have tirelessly prayed for us, and explained the situation, asking them to spend the weekend in prayer for us.  Each one was so faithful and eager to step in and serve us in this selfless way.  We will forever be grateful.  Our initial talk to the kids about this was with Brycen, as Regan was with my parents over the weekend.  Oh, God's timing... it is SO perfect.  Brycen asked a few questions like, "Does this mean we would still do another adoption?" "So, we will get a boy and a girl eventually, we just wouldn't know the order yet?'  and many more.  All appropriate, great questions.  He was, needless to say, excited either way.
But, one thing remained: talking to Regan.  Mark and I went out Saturday night on a date.  Most of the night was focused on where we felt God was leading our family in regards to this adoption and how every scenario would impact life (as much as we could predict).  We were honest about our fears, discussed how exciting this change could be, and had such a great time looking at how God has been stretching and teaching us.  How He has been preparing my heart for weeks as I have been sitting in being willing to yield.
Regan came home Saturday night and I went in to have the talk with her while she was in the bathtub.  I figured there is no better place to have a captive audience!  I started out letting her know there was total freedom for total honesty.  I wanted her to know that her trusting us was paramount and if what I had to say would make her not trust us, it wasn't even up for discussion.  She listened intently, not missing a word.  I finally told her about the email and said, "this in no way means we have to do this or that we are doing this.  It simply means God used this lady to prompt us to seek Him again about a boy OR a girl."  She tried not to cry at first, but the sobs started.  I went over to her head and touched her face and said, "You don't have to say a word.  If it means this much to you..." and she stopped me mid-sentence and said, "Mom, that is not why I am crying.  I am just so tired of waiting.  It's HARD!" And then, I cried.  Holding her hand while she explained, "So many people tell me they know it's been hard and it's been a long time.  Mom, they have NO idea."  It was such a sweet moment with her.  To just cry together and explain that "Dad and I had no idea, Regan, that it would take so long and be so hard on us."  She shook her head saying, "I know, Mom.  It's hard for you, too."  I talked to her about my real concerns regarding long-term resentment that might come if a boy came home first.  She listened and thought.  I asked her to pray about it and I said, "If you are not ok with this, it really is ok.  We initially chose a girl because gender wasn't a factor in waiting and at the time it made sense to us, but at the end of the day, God called us to care for the orphan." Her response reached out and touched my core.  Her wise words brought so much comfort to my fears, my reservations, my worrying about her.  She said this, with tears streaming down her face, "I am kind of tired of just praying for and waiting for orphans.  I am ready to actually start CARING for one, a girl or a boy."  tears burned in my eyes as our eyes met and I didn't even wipe them away.  I just looked at her and said, "You teach me so much."  She went on, "Three years is a long time to wait when there are so many orphans, girls AND boys, who need families."  I tried to regain my composure, reminding myself that I came there to talk with her, not the other way around.  We discussed so many options and outcomes.  Talked about God building our family how He wants in whatever order He wants.  And, when we were finishing up I said, "I just need to know if you are 50% ok with this, 80% ok, or 100% ok because we can wait to decide." She touched my hand and said, "Mom, I am 110% ok with this.  Let's do it!"  I walked to my room and cried.  And cried.  He is always SO before us.  Preparing the way when we couldn't even see that a way needed to be prepared, He goes before us.
As I have prayed over the last few days, asking God to show me how to be more willing to yield, He has been so faithful.  I have felt like for all this time I have been holding out my hands with the pieces I was willing for God to use to build my life.  This weekend He has kindly, gently, lovingly whispered, "Put your hands behind your back.  Let me start from scratch and create your life My way with My pieces.  It far exceeds your plans.  Trust Me."

Today, as we opened our advent book, "Waiting Here for You," we had such a great discussion with Brycen and Regan about the topic for the day.  It will likely find its way on our walls somewhere.  I can't say enough how intentional He has been to lead us.  Today's thought in the book was this: Who you become while you are waiting is as important as what you are waiting for.

Sigh.  I am thankful for the reminder.

So, here goes.  Hands behind my back, heart full, and hope high.  We are excited to let you know that we called the agency today to tell them we are willing to adopt a boy OR a girl.  The excitement around here is nearly tangible as we sit in a new place of faith.  Stretched.  Challenged. Thankful.


We are tickled pink OR blue.

Willing to Yield

It is never easy to sit and look at this blank screen and flashing cursor when there is still nothing new happening in regards to our adoption.  It simply isn't where we thought we would be at this time.  Three years after completing our first piece of paperwork and still nothing tangible to show for it.  It's surreal.  And hard. And, in all honesty, lonely.  No human word can heal our hurts of longing, but the Lord hasn't stopped teaching us, teaching me, growing us, growing me, when we are simply

willing to yield.

This past summer the older kids and I spent the summer finishing up memorizing the book of James.  It was in those weeks that we first really meditated on and studied what would be my theme over the course of the last several weeks.  Simply put, be....

willing to yield.

When the kids and I first studied it, the idea was so tangible.  I could see how practical and valuable and useful and humbling these three words were.  At first, I could hear arguing over a toy, fighting over who sat in which seat in the car, whose turn it was to go first, who would get the last piece of candy, and I could simply say, "Who is going to be

willing to yield?" 

This idea of yielding is such a lost "art" in our culture on so many levels.  And, in discussions with the kids we often noted how counter to our culture it actually has become.  As a matter of fact, we talked about how yielding really is supernatural.  It is the idea of willingly putting someone else's benefit above your own.  The imagery is that of a car yielding to allow another to proceed before or of one turning his/her body sideways, arm outstretched to the side allowing the way of another to pass by.  James says it like this in chapter 3, verse 17, "But the wisdom from above is first of all pure.  It is also peace loving, gentle at all times, and 

willing to yield

to others.  It is full of mercy and good deeds.  It shows no favoritism and is always sincere."  Wisdom from above is full of mercy.  It is gentle and it is peace loving at all times.  All times.  Even when it is hard, goes against what we want, or isn't what we "signed up for."  sigh.  Wisdom from above is what I want above all else.  Written right here in black and white James, inspired by the Holy Spirit, tells us what true wisdom looks like...it looks like mercy.  It looks like gentleness and peace at all times.  It looks like someone with a spirit that is

willing to yield.

I have just completed a Bible study where I was asked, again, to examine James 3 in depth.  It was as if these three words came off the page to me. Again. But, this time it was with a different sense of purpose or meaning.  It was as if my prior experience of seeing  tangible ways  to yield to others was just to prepare me for what God had for me in this season.  As I reread James 3:17 this go around I heard these words so differently.  It was no longer about seats in the car, toys, sharing, taking turns, or driving a car.  In my longing and hurting I have been desperate for the tangible.  To come to the realization there isn't one other couple on the planet that Mark and I know that we can look at who really understand what it is like to be walking in these shoes. That is tough.  Others who have waited for things? sure.  Others who have longed? of course.  Others who have adopted? absolutely.  Others who have waited this long, willing to adopt an older child from Ethiopia without even a face, a name, or an age? not one.  The human in me wants something tangible.  As our Bible Fellowship class recently studied Isaiah 53 we discussed the impact of Jesus being 100% divine as well as 100% human.  To know He understands as a human has proven to be so healing and helpful.  However, it isn't (necessarily) tangible.  As my mind and heart began to grasp (again) for what I could hold onto, trust, see, I could sense Holy Spirit whispering, "be

willing to yield."

As God pressed in on this in my heart I finally realized that harder than yielding to what is tangible is yielding to what is not: His will, His way, His timing.  A person that will yield to others, meaning will give up what he/she wants for the sake of another, is one who won't fight to prove a point or feel the need to always be "right."  However, a person with a SPIRIT that is

willing to yield

is one who won't fight His will, His way, His timing.  It's difficult to even type for me, in all authenticity.  Quite frankly, because I don't like it.  And I am just to the point of being able to accept that just because I don't like it has nothing to do with the fact that it is the way to wisdom.  It actually has everything to do with His saying it.  In all His infinite wisdom and all He could have left for us regarding obtaining "wisdom from above" He chose to leave us with these nuggets of truth: Be

willing to yield.

In our flesh and nature this will not happen.  It has to be intentional.  It has to be planned.  It is a matter of trust. Am I willing to trust that He knows best, sees all, and is keenly aware of every detail in my circumstance? Or am I trusting what is tangible, what I can see, and how I feel (that's a big one!)? Am I

willing to yield

control to Him?  As I type, I have tears streaming down my face at how raw this still is for me.  No one on planet earth could have prepared me for this adoption journey.  It's tougher, longer, harder, and fiercer than I could have ever imagined.  But, in it all, He hasn't taken His eyes off us, her, or the clock over our heads.  Not for one second.  In my flesh, I would rather fight about who rides up front, whose turn it is to go first, or who gets the last piece of candy.  But, God has something bigger, richer, greater in mind.... His plan, His will, His way, His timing.  In the end, He is most concerned about my heart and how I trust Him with all of my life. Every season. Every detail. Every circumstance.  Little by little, He is growing me to better understand that in order to fully trust Him I must be

willing to yield.

To step aside, arm outstretched, and in my posture say, "Go ahead of me. I insist."  I don't know your struggle or if you can relate in any way.  However, I want to encourage someone today with the promise of this verse.  In the area of life you feel the most desperate for His wisdom, I would encourage you to simply let Him work on your heart in regards to yielding.  Perhaps for you it is matter of mercy, gentleness, peace.  Or perhaps, you could pull up a chair across from me at Starbucks over a latte, and we could be in good company.  Company that needs this truth to sink way down.... True wisdom from above is

willing to yield.

Even if I don't always like it or understand it.  His patience is limitless, thank goodness!  So, it may just come in baby steps, if you are like me.  I have found myself repeating over and over again in my head  for days or weeks at a time,

"willing to yield. willing to yield.  willing to yield."

Finally, it starts to sink in a little deeper.  And, even there, His goodness is waiting.  As each of us press on in the road He has asked us to walk, I am thankful He allows us to walk it together.  As we seek His wisdom, we cannot overlook the role our own choices make in regards to this truth: we must be

willing to yield.

It simply isn't optional in order to gain His wisdom.  And, when it's time to meet up at Starbucks in good company,  you order first.  I insist.  

When The Veil Thins

I never dreamed six months would pass between posts.  I also never dreamed we would still be waiting.  Though we believe our days of waiting are coming to a close, I am learning to celebrate the process.  What a process.  I have never been much of one to ask, "Why?"  Seems to me, God doesn't owe us an explanation and even if He gave one it likely wouldn't be "good enough" to ease my heart ache.  I trust Him. I trust His timing.  And, I am learning to trust the veils He hangs.  And the kindness He extends

When the Veil thins.

There are countless families waiting, much like us.  That neither eases the heartache or justifies it, it simply reminds me that we are not alone.  Since we began our adoption 2 1/2 years ago, our lives have changed so much. Our priorities have changed so much.  Our perspective has changed so much. God has been so faithful to allow us the privilege of walking down roads of caring for orphans through so many family and friends.  Some through the foster system, some foster to adopt, some through domestic adoption, and others through international adoption. The many faces of adoption still melt my heart and leave me undone.  It has been a joy to serve these families as well as to be served by them.  Another opportunity that came to us in the process was caring for orphans and restaveks (child slaves) in Haiti.  As many of you know, we have been actively involved in opening a home in Gressier, Haiti for 5 rescued restaveks.  Our time in Haiti has been sweet and hard and rewarding and stretching and revealing and humbling.  I am still blown away that God allows human beings to be even a small part in His plan to make all things new.  But, He is the faithful One... He, indeed, is making all things new.  Those sweet young ladies (and babies) living at Kay Libete (The Freedom House) are tangible evidences of His redemptive plan.  I had the privilege of traveling back to Gressier with two young ladies from our church at the end of May.  It had been 7 weeks since my previous trip and I had prayed and hoped I would be in Ethiopia and unable to make the May trip.  But,  God had a different plan and it was on the May trip that I realized His faithfulness

when the veil thins.

Off and on for several months I would let the doubts and questions swarm in my head for a bit, but would try to quickly speak His truths to the lies and let fear subside.  I want to be authentic in this journey....This is the hardest thing I have ever done.  We have ever done.  And the most beautiful.  There are days I know God has been purposed in hanging veils and other days I am frustrated at the obscurity and uncertainty the hanging veils leave.  His plans are full of purpose and love.  That has never wavered.  But, when you can't make sense of the plan or when it doesn't go anything like you expected, there are days it's difficult to sort truth from lies.  This makes His lavish grace more tangible

when the veil thins.

On the plane ride to Haiti in May I was journaling while listening to music on my iPod.  I was pouring out my prayers regarding adoption in my journal and then it happened.  The Holy Spirit spoke to my heart loud and clear.  I could hardly control my tears because I knew He was speaking words of healing to my hurting heart.  The more I listened, the faster my pen wrote.  As I sat writing,  one kind, unnecessary, generous "why" came.

The Veil Thinned.

If I had my way and our referral had come when everyone expected (including our agency) we would not have had the opportunity to invest in Haiti.  At least in this season.  In God's Sovereignty I believe the young ladies at Kay Libete would have found restoration.  However, the role they each play in our lives is such a blessing, my eyes blurred at the mere thought of life without them.  Had I had my way, I would have never known the joy of watching one of them be baptized after giving her life to Jesus while we were there in April.  Or the joy of knowing one rescued from a  voodoo temple now sleeps safely and securely in the arms of Jesus.  Oh the peace that comes

when the veil thins.

Again, God owes us no "why."  We aren't asking Him for one. We do believe the process has made us more compassionate to those longing (on many levels regarding many circumstances).  It has most certainly taught us more about His heart toward us, His extravagant pursuit of us, His tender love for us even before we trust Him.  As we press on in our final days before we see her face, we are trusting Him more than ever.  We have come to REALLY realize our total dependence MUST be on Him.  No other circumstance has pushed us to our knees or forced us to lay all we have at His feet like this journey.  I am so thankful for the process.  Whatever veils might be hanging for you right now.... those things that are not clear, those plans that are not going like you believed they would, those circumstances that are uncertain and unpredictable... I pray you, too,  will begin to see the beauty in the process.  It certainly hasn't come naturally for me.  It has not been easy or even fun most days. But, it has been beautiful.  In your season of longing, I pray you will push to see His face more and to trust Him fully. Even when you know there is no answer that would satisfy your "why," I pray you will have renewed strength as you wait on Him.  And, out of nowhere He might grab hold of your pen mid-air and take your breath away!  I am praying you will see His extravagant love, unmatched kindness, limitless grace, and tender mercies for you

when the veil thins.

Always.

I am writing from a hotel tonight while everyone else sleeps.  I can't shut my mind down long enough to rest.  My heart is too full.  It's just been one of "those" days.  You know, the kind that goes fast and slow all at the same time?  The kind where you're not sure whether you want to laugh or cry all day.  My heart has been so full of expectation for Passion 2013.  We have spent so many hours in prayer leading up to this week.  So, to hop into the car tonight after finishing up our final Christmas celebration was exciting for the kids and me (Mark arrived in Atlanta yesterday).  Then it happened: the kids fell asleep almost immediately and it was just me and Him.  And it was beautiful.

My mind began thinking while my lips began singing.  I switched off the Christmas music (sad day) and chose to listen to my "White Flag" CD in preparations for Passion.  I wanted to refocus my day on Him, on freedom, on choosing joy.  Almost immediately my mind went to our recent trip to Haiti.  I began praying for so many friends there who are hurting, alone, vulnerable, scared, insecure, and desperate for hope.  I prayed for our sweet friends, Megan and Josh, who live there full-time ministering in Gressier (Respire Haiti). We enjoyed dinner at our house with Megan and Josh in November while they were in the states for a few days.  When we went to Haiti I was excited to see a hand written note on their fridge, colored by one of the kids, that read: Today I Choose Joy.  We have the same thing painted on a canvas in our kids' bathroom.  So, when I commented on it, Josh said, "Yes, I saw it at your house and came here and made that one." And then it became so clear to me that joy really is a choice some days. After being in Haiti, especially, I better understand it. So much physical and spiritual bondage there left an impression on me that will be with me until the oppression there is gone.  Child slaves.  abandonment. sickness. poverty. It can feel so overwhelming, but then I remember it won't be this way forever.  He came to set us free in order that we might help free others.  Singing "White Flag" wasn't just out of routine this time.  I had names and faces of slaves I know, ones our family prays for, and they aren't just a statistic anymore.  They are real kids.  With real pain and with deep wounds.  My heart was drawn to praise while my eyes were drawn to tears. I can praise because He knows and hears.

Always.

As I sang on and tried to really take in every line of the familiar songs, I felt like every line left me undone.  It was as if I was hearing them all for the first time, but with the familiarity that left me able to sing along.  And then I heard it for the thousandth time, but as if the first:  "It will be my joy to say, 'Your Will, Your Way....'" My Joy. Your Will.  YOUR way.  Really?  Let's just be honest and agree that sometimes His Will and His way requires choosing joy.  At least for me.  I can sing it all day long with my arms raised in agreement, but when it comes down to it, sometimes His Will I can accept, but His way is a little harder.  But, the lyric doesn't end there and neither did my heart lesson.  The next word changes it even more.  Every part of it changes.  "It will be my joy to say, 'Your will, Your Way....

Always.'"

Always.  Not just when I like it.  Not just when He does things according to my wishes or my timing.  Not just when things go how I want them to.  Not just when His ways make sense to me.

Always.

In every season.  In every wait.  In every day.  In every interaction. In every calling.  In every attitude.  In every conversation.  In every situation.

Always.

I had to struggle through singing it the first few times as if convincing myself that it was okay to be joyful about His will AND His way.  I am SO thankful His will has led us down the adoption road.  Unbelievably grateful.  There are so many ways to adopt, so many avenues to care for the fatherless.  After all the praying, seeking, and fasting about it, we are humbled to our core God chose us to internationally adopt.  We have many friends adopting, some domestically, some through fostering, and some internationally from other countries.  None are more important than the other, each just done according to His call.  So, in singing it was a great reminder of His will and the reassurance that He called us to this so clearly.
His way.  Sigh.  That part gets a little tougher.  Complaining, rebelling, and growing bitter are certainly options.  As is running from Him and running from all those who are walking the road with us. However, neither are His way.  Running to His arms has proven to be where the only comfort lies.  Continuing to have those who are encouraging us, praying for us, crying with us, and preparing for her beside us is such a sweet blessing to our longing hearts.  It gets so easy to question and to grow weary, to run from what I know is true.  But, in the end, His will done His way is the deepest desire of my heart.  Even when I don't understand or like it.  Choose joy.

always.

I am coming tonight with a heart that is so far from mastering this truth.  I believe it's possible and I believe I am light years from where I once was.  But, when the rubber meets the road and His will and His way differ from mine, choosing joy isn't always easy.  It's intentional.  It's worth it.  It's purposed. It's never wasted.  Never.

By the time the kids stirred 3 hours into the trip, I was singing, "It will be my joy to say,'Your will, Your way. Always,'" with confidence that His plan is good.  With tears streaming down my face and one arm raised in the air (the other carefully navigating the steering wheel).  He spoke so sweetly to my spirit, reminding me that His way is best and His love for me, for us, for her isn't dependent on what my eyes see or my flesh feels.  But on Him... the One who is Sovereign. Sufficient. Good. Defender of the weak.  Father to the Fatherless. Chain Breaker. Heart Healer. Soul Saver. Life Giver. Abundant.
Faithful.

always.