The Dream Realized

 Wow. Three years passed in a haze of night feedings, diapers, potty training, and general life with two littles. However, I am still here, and still seeking the Lord and trying to hear from Him. For the past forever, I have done a read through the Bible in a year or two years program for my daily reading. Sometimes the going is tough. Right now I'm reading in Joshua, around chapters 17-21. Chapter after chapter delineating who gets what land where.

As I was slogging through these verses, I was thinking how boring it all was. I was, also, admittedly, skimming through verse after verse of "this tribe gets this land from this river to that mountain". Yawn. 

Then, Joshua 21:46:

Not one of the good promises which the Lord had made to the house of Israel failed; all came to pass.

All of that boring division of land is the realization and reality of the Lord fulfilling His promise to the children of Israel. The promise that He would give them the Promised Land and bless them, and that they at last would have some rest after the desert wandering. 

Three years absence from blogging (and other things I used to do) caused partially by the mundane details of being a mom to young children. Laundry, sweeping (and sweeping and sweeping and sweeping), hyper vigilance about bodily functions and waking at every night noise; these are the unexciting verses in this chapter of my life. 

These boring verses in my story are clear evidence of God's faithfulness and blessing in my life. Years and years of praying for a husband and children (and knowing that, even if I never got them, God was still good and I was still the recipient of grace beyond measure). Getting so far in the story and then waiting some more.  The nuts and bolts of each of our lives have so many "boring details", yet somehow, at the end, they often reveal the answers to our prayers. 

Theory vs. Practice

"Love without limits." "Love in spite of." "Love without getting anything in return." "Love like Jesus." Those phrases, read with inspiring music playing in my head, sound noble, like a worthy aspiration. And they are. But they are far easier to say than to do. To think about than to implement.

We have been fostering our son's sister for nine weeks now. We know that the goal of foster care is reunification with the birth family. We, intentional or not, received the impression that probably it would be a clear path to adopting little Miss S. We found out that isn't the case.

We don't know what will ultimately happen. In the world of foster care, it's early days. But. But. We had already built the future in our minds, and forgotten to hold loosely. We had prayed for so long for a sister for Z that we assumed an ending that hadn't yet been made clear. He has a sister, and they will be siblings forever. We just don't know if she will be living with us or not.

Almost all adoptions/foster situations are more complicated than they look. We want the best for S, and that may be living with her birth family. Children living with their birth families is what is supposed to happen. Foster care and adoption is not what is supposed to happen. They can be beautiful and redemptive and loving, but it is only reality because of sin. Sin always leads to sadness and heartbreak for someone.

We love S. We want her to stay in our family. We want her and Z to grow up together. If she must leave, we will be heartbroken. Her big brother loves his "Sissy" very much, and my heart quails and my eyes overflow imagining explaining to him (who won't be able to really understand anything but that she's gone) that his sister had to go away.

But. But. Children belong with biological parents if it is possible, and if it is a safe and loving environment. While I think I know what is best for S, I am not God. I don't know the future. I only know my feelings and my desires, and they are currently at war. I want S to stay with us. At the same time, as a Christian, one of the deepest desires of my heart is that God be glorified, and that I follow and obey the teachings of Jesus. The temptation is twofold: To wish ill will for our kids' birth parents and pursue what we want at any cost, or, maybe worse, to withhold our hearts from our daughter (which she will always be) to try to lessen the pain. Neither choice will glorify God.

Today in church we sang an older Mercy Me song, "God With Us". The chorus has the line, "All that is within me cries For You alone be glorified." My husband and I want that to be true for us. Yet that choice, so romantic and lofty, holds the potential for much pain. The next line is the only power that will sustain us in this journey: "Emmanuel, God with Us."

God's heart has felt its share of pain. He gave up His Son. We say that a lot, but the true import of it is beyond knowing. He has put this baby in our home, and in our hearts for a reason. We will trust that He will give us grace for whatever happens, and that, whether she stays for six months or for our lifetime, we will love her wholeheartedly. 

This obedient choice does not make us saints. Many of you reading this would choose the same. If we knew what we know now, would we change our minds? Would you? If told your child had a sibling who needed a safe and loving home? That maybe she would stay with you and with her big brother? How could we not? How can we not love her to the best of our ability? We have been loved so so much by the Lord and by His family. When the time comes to put our grand and romantic and real theories into action, we will do so, knowing that "I can do all things, through him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13)--and that God's strength is the only way, and that it will be enough.

Taking Stock

Five years ago today, I walked down the aisle at my wedding. It was a long time coming, and a union accomplished only by God's design (A Wedding Story ). I know my husband, Paul, and I had discussed "Where do you think we'll be in five years?" I'm not sure we would have imagined that there would be a toddler asleep upstairs for a nap and a newborn snoozing on my chest as I type.

I always envisioned that I would be married sometime in my twenties, enjoy a few years just with my husband, and then start having children, maybe four. Yet, years (and years and years) went by as I watched almost all my friends do just those things. Wedding after wedding, and baby shower after baby shower. It was hard to see so many people get the life that I had wanted. I prayed, and cried, and demanded, and cried, and prayed. . .

A deep longing of my heart was to just be "normal". To get married when my friends did, to have kids when my closest friends did. Nope. I remember talking to the Lord about this--"Is it so much to ask? To be normal? To be like everyone else?"

Now, beginning my fifth year as a wife and in the middle of my second year as a mom, well. . . Still not normal. Those close friends of mine? Their kids are going to college and getting married and having babies now. Most of the moms with kids our children's ages could also BE our kids. It makes forming new friendships interesting. Paul often gets mistaken for Grandpa, and while I haven't (yet) been called Grandma, I did have someone ask me last weekend if I were Mom or Grandma.

I don't know why the Lord waited so long to bless me with marriage. In the past I have said that I wished I knew Paul earlier, but now I have rethought that, since earlier means different children. I do know that being out of sync with most other people keeps me looking to the Lord for acceptance and peace and grace. I definitely know that being an older parent also requires extra strength and energy and faith to believe that we are the best choice for these children, at this time.

Life in the mainstream or out of it . . all of it requires faith and trust that the Lord is enough, no matter our (perceived) level of "normal".

My life is not how I thought it would be (I'm learning that very few people's are), but it is so, so good.

Psalm 16: 5-6 (ESV):


5 Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
    you make my lot secure.
6 The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
    surely I have a delightful inheritance.
7 I will praise the Lord, who counsels me;
    even at night my heart instructs me.
8 I keep my eyes always on the Lord.
    With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

One More Phone Call

It's been over a year since I have blogged. Kids keep you busy. Marriage keeps you busy. It's true, that whole thing in the Bible about how singleness gives opportunity for a more focused walk with the Lord (how I hated being reminded of that when I was single).

I came back to my blog to re-read the story of how our son came to us. In the entry, I had written, "Then one phone called changed everything."

Friday, we were leaving the airport returning home from a family vacation. I was in the backseat with the toddler, and Paul was in front chatting with the friend who had picked us up. "Hi. . . Did you know that Z's birth mom was expecting another baby? The baby was born yesterday, a little girl. We called you to see if you would take placement of the baby?" Without even blinking (or asking Paul), I said, "Yes." "You can come get her today or tomorrow, I'll let you know."

One phone call, and now we are, for the time being at least, a family of four.

Once again, the joy we have at receiving a baby into our home is tempered with sadness for the birth parents who have already lost one child and may lose another, and for the brokenness in this world that leads to the trauma of separating babies from mamas. In our case, as in so many, there are no quick fixes. Our heart is for safety and stability for both Z and S. God has also, however, given us hearts that desire healing and wholeness for the birth parents, and a desire for connection with them.

Singleness had its blessings of more time to reflect, connect with the Lord, journal, and blog. Family life has its blessings of character refinement, connecting to the Lord with someone else, and pursuing God and His will with a partner. Both of those stations in life require faith and trust.

We opened our hearts and home to both Z and S knowing they might not stay. We mentally try to stay aware of the risk, but these children deserve to be in a home where they are loved unreservedly. Jesus will heal our hearts if we don't stay a family of four. We trust that our work of building attachment, trust, and love will make Z and S healthy, happy people wherever and whenever they must leave us. That desire doesn't make us special. It just makes us parents. All of our children will eventually leave, and they don't really belong to us in the first place.

We have been praying for a sibling for Z, whose adoption is in process, for months. For now, that prayer is answered. One phone call, again, changed everything.

Six Month Baby Update

Our Little Guy is six months old today! He's doing great--rolling around, almost sitting up, looking scarily close to crawling, laughing and smiling and getting to be very social. Paul, who's staying home with him during the school year, hears "da-da", he is sure. I, in futility, encourage "ma-ma".  He doesn't sleep through the night yet, though people keep promising us he will once we start giving him solid food (any day now). We are skeptical! He's teething and drooling and we love him a ton!

As many of you know, we had intended to adopt our son, then things got complicated ("Supposed to Be"), then God intervened ("Unless God" ) and we were asked to foster Little Man as we waited to see what would happen with the biological parents. We still do not know the outcome for sure, but it is looking like we will get to adopt him. While we are thrilled, our joy is tinged with sadness.

We have always wanted a child and we love our son. We want him to stay with us and be a part of our family forever. However, we know that our desire has a cost to our baby. He has a complicated story. He may not be able to understand it for many, many years, and while he will know (we pray every day) how much we love him, he will also have to come to terms with the loss of his first family. The reality is that his biological parents, due to both circumstances and choice, cannot currently parent him.

Adoption is beautiful, but in a perfect world, it would not exist. As a Christian, I believe that I have been adopted, through Jesus, into God's family, and I am grateful and amazed at this privilege. As I was thinking, I realized that, even for God, there is a sense that adoption was not the first choice. If Adam and Eve had not sinned, they would have been still in God's family as it was originally designed. However, due to the fall, Jesus came so that we could be adopted into God's family. Adoption always has a cost.

We believe that our guy was placed with us by design, and we are grateful. We pray daily for wisdom to parent him well and with love, and we pray for his biological parents as well, and hope that he will have a future relationship with them. We pray most of all that he will also experience the joy of adoption into God's family, and that the Lord will heal his heart and turn his pain into beauty and purpose.

In further news: We are approved by our adoption agency for two children, and are praying that God would bring us a sibling for our little man. Private adoption is costly, and we recently received a grant from Pure Gift from God, who will match our funds dollar for dollar up to $4000--so if we raise $2000, they will give us $2000 more. If you are interested in helping out, here is the link:  Paul and Edna's Adoption Odyssey

I Want It I Want It I Want It

Seems like teaching + infant = no blog posts for a while! However, things are relatively calm on the home front now (planning a six month update in a few weeks) and, as I had been told, watching babies leads to thoughts about God and how He takes care of us.

Our little guy is about five and a half months old. He can roll over and grab toys and stick everything in his mouth. He has an activity gym that he loves! He can reach all of the dangling toys now, but he can't get them into his mouth. Cue: massive frustration:

Yesterday morning he was just livid that he could not, no matter how hard he pulled, get those rings all the way into his mouth. After a few minutes of yelling and screeching, I had to just scoop him up, give him snuggles, and move him away from his obsession. We went and looked outside, and talked, and walked, and left the scene of the emotion.

As I was holding him and watching him calm down, it struck me that I have done the same thing in my life, albeit in a slightly more subtle (or maybe not) manner. There were times when I was single when I fixated on dating sites and trying to WILL the right guy to contact me. I can fixate on the one chore my husband forgot rather than the seven he completed. More recently, during our adoption wait, I would stalk the "waiting families" page. I would scour other people's profiles to figure out what they were doing that we weren't. I remember crying to our social worker in frustration that our profile page wasn't yet on the portal because the expectant mom for us could be looking RIGHT NOW (a year and a half before we were matched with little guy's mom). In those moments, like our baby who could only see the rings he could not reach, all I could see was the husband or baby or ____________ that I couldn't conjure despite my best efforts.

The Lord, who is a much better parent than I, wants to draw me away from my frustrated fixation to spending time with Him and widening my vision to see the bigger world and what He is doing in it. Sadly, my grown-up self is not as easily moved as an infant, so sometimes I spend far longer than five minutes screeching in frustration at things I can't change.

Little Man will gain access to those rings when he's a big bigger or able to sit up. When the time is right, he'll be able to get them into his mouth or throw them or whatever he wants to do with them. Later in the afternoon, I detached that turtle toy with the rings and handed it to him, thinking that would make him happy. It didn't. He was just as frustrated having them in his hands as when they were attached. Whatever he was wanting to do with them, he wasn't able to do it yet. 

Had I gotten some of the things I wanted when I wanted them, my life would be different. I wouldn't have necessarily been any happier. God, in His wisdom knows when to give me the toy and when to withhold it. 

As I witnessed my son's frustration, the verse that came to mind was from Matthew 11:28-30, when Jesus shared these words:

 Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

I am reminded that, when I am caught in the frustration of wanting it RIGHT NOW, I need to turn my eyes to Jesus and let Him calm me, comfort me, and re-orient my vision to the tasks and gifts He has for me.

Unless God. . .

Two weeks ago my husband and I had one of the hardest Thanksgivings ever. We had lost the son we were supposed to be adopting and were heartbroken ("Supposed to Be"). A few days later we went to church, wanting the support of our church family, but dreading the emotions. Over and over we were asked, "Is there any chance that you could see the baby again?" "Couldn't you guys be his foster care family, since you were going to adopt him anyway?" "Are you SURE it's all over?" Over and over we said, "No, not unless God intervenes." "No, they don't do things that way. Only if God does a miracle." "Yes, yes, it's all over. Everyone's told us that. There's no chance unless God does something miraculous."

Monday morning we were both supposed to go back to work. Sunday evening I decided not to so that I could accompany Paul to a doctor appointment. As I sat in the waiting room, we got a text from our adoption agency social worker to "Call me as soon as you can." We called, and she told us that the family services agency of the county in which the baby was born wanted to see if we would foster the baby while all of the details and logistics of figuring out where he would end up were sorted out. At that point we assumed it would just be for a few weeks. Of course we wanted to see the baby again, and give him a good start, but we also knew the even bigger heartbreak that could occur in a few weeks. We agreed to talk to the county to see exactly what they wanted.

The agency offered us to be kinship foster care providers for the baby. When we asked them how long they anticipated us having the baby, they said "Six months to a year, up to two years." Huh? It seems that the sorting out of all of this is going to take a while, and that, while the goal of foster care is always reunification with the birth family, there is the possibility that the child will become available for adoption.

It seemed abundantly clear to us that God had indeed intervened. We believe that He, miraculously and against all protocol, wanted us to have this baby back, at least for a while. So, while we intellectually have counted the cost of loving with no guarantee, we know that emotionally we risk heartache and tears--as do all parents. We don't know what God's plan is with this. It could be to give our little man the best start that we can, in a stable and loving environment. It could be to show the other people involved the love of Jesus. It could be to eventually adopt this little one who burrows deeper into our hearts every day. Regardless, when God works in such a big way, we really have no choice but to submit and trust Him that He will be enough for us, no matter what happens.