What an amazing month this has been for our adoption!! Let me begin by saying, that I'm writing this with a grateful heart because of the ups and downs we've been able to rely on God and see how much Rosi really means to us.
Rewind to right around Halloween, we were so excited to get potential travel dates to fly to Bulgaria for the first visit with our daughter. We had priced the flights, everything was looking reasonable and worked within our timeline. We were starting to make all the arrangements and each day was growing with anticipation and excitement to finally meet Rosi. Before we booked, we found out from our agency that Rosi's outlook on adoption was not positive at the time and they needed to work with her before she would feel comfortable meeting us. The travel was postponed indefinitely at that time and devastation and confusion replaced the anticipation we were filled with.
Suddenly, the light of our adoption had changed. What if the life we could provide for Rosi was not the best life for her? What if we had gone through this process feeling so sure that she was meant to be our daughter only to find out we were mistaken in the 11th hour? This was the lowest of the low either of us have felt in a year of the rollercoaster ride of adoption. We wanted to reassure her, we wanted to reach out to her, we wanted to go to her. But after the worst of the feelings had dissipated, we realized the old adage - if you love something you will let them go. Could God have used our love and loss of Rosi to propel us in a different direction?
Then some light started to shine that gave us hope. She had not yet found out about us, she just wasn't sure about leaving her Bulgarian foster home to start a new life. We made videos, we wrote letters, we bought gifts, we started to acknowledge and appreciate that Rosi could say no to us, but we were going to love her just as we'd been called to do. We couldn't give up on our daughter. Social workers and a psychologist met with her to discuss her options, and to introduce us to her through our videos and letters. Rosi's fear started to turn to curiosity. Who were these Americans who wanted to adopt her? It was decided that the best thing to do would be to Skype with Rosi and the professionals who had been working with her to make her more comfortable before we visited.
Scott and I were thrilled with the prospect of getting to see our daughter, and again our sails were filled with hope and counting the days until we would meet. Thanksgiving Day we had our call. A lot of prayers must have been said for us that day because other than a few butterflies we weren't too nervous. And Rosi....she was so excited to meet us!! I had prayed that she'd show some interest, that we'd be able to talk for a few minutes and we'd probably have to hold our breath for another week or so to hear back from the case worker.
What a relief and joy it was to see her smiling face. To experience her excitement at meeting us and to have the preconceived notions of each party fall to the wayside as we got to know eachother. The translator was fantastic and had built a great repoire with Rosi already, and soon the basic questions turned into laughter, joking, and showing her her little brothers playing with their new toys. She saw what would be her room and asked if we could go shopping. She told us that Sully was so adorable and confirmed Emerson's biggest concern - yes, she likes science too. She met the pets, and heard her Dad play guitar. She and I decided that there should always be at least a little chocolate in the house. We found out how brave our girl is. She said she is not afraid to get on an airplane for the first time, she wants to try to ride rollercoaster, she wants to go out on the boat, she wants to try pineapple on pizza :) We reassured her that we love her, we think she's so special, so beautiful, so important to us. We promised that if she wanted us to, we'd come to Bulgaria to visit her. By the end of the call we were both holding back tears of joy as we heard Rosi say that she loves us too. To say that the call went well would be a huge understatement!!!!!! Yesterday we welcomed Rosi into our home, and we saw her begin to get comfortable, to connect with each of us, and to surprise us with love in return.
We are feeling so incredibly blessed and thankful for each of the prayers that were said for us and our daughter. There is more big news on the horizon about our Both Hands project, but I will save that for another blog. For now, we're working with our agency to try to get to Bulgaria as quickly as possible, our daughter is waiting on us :)
Friday, November 25, 2016
Thursday, October 20, 2016
One Month Later
Waiting is hard. And this type of waiting is the hardest I've ever experienced. I saw it on the face of another adoptive father at church, when I asked him how things were going with their adoption. He didn't have a bright and cheerful response, step they've checked off their list of to-dos, or update on their son in China. He said, "right now it's tough." I was still basking in the afterglow of our recent accomplishment in sending out the dossier. One major mountain in my book, and although I read the exasperation on his face and tried to meet it with empathy, I wasn't there yet. I still had not come to the end of myself.
Today, I had a hard time getting out of bed. It's been a month of holding my breath and willing and wishing with all of my energy for a phone call or an email saying that we've been given the official referral and are invited to Bulgaria to meet our daughter. I'm on edge and trying to remain calm and keeping my thoughts focused is tough. The phone calls and emails do come in to check on our adoption, and miraculously a lot of the money we've needed has come in too. It is burning a hole in my bank account!
Never in my life did I imagine traveling to Bulgaria, and now it's what I think about most of the time. When I am asked where we are in our adoption, I'm able to state the facts. The fact is that right now we are waiting. What I want to share too is the emotional toll that this waiting takes on a mother (and father). Several more steps must be taken for Rose to officially become our daughter. But in my mind and heart she already is. I find myself in prayer for her all the time that she will not be afraid, give up hope, and that those that are caring for her are doing the best they can. Truth be told, I miss her in this mysterious heartbreaking way even though we have yet to meet.
But in my waiting, I'm carried by the comfort of my loving Father. I'm reminded that His timing is perfect. Not late. Not annoyingly delayed. Not completely out of my control. Perfect. Yes, I am wound up, tense, anxious, and the news cannot come soon enough. But the passage of time is less devastating knowing it's part of a bigger plan. This is what I tell myself while I'm waiting and while I carry the heavy burden right now of not knowing much of anything about my daughter, I am forced to let pieces of it go. To shed the weight of my worry, to pile it onto my graceful Savior so that I can get out of bed each day even when the answer is, "right now it's tough."
Today, I had a hard time getting out of bed. It's been a month of holding my breath and willing and wishing with all of my energy for a phone call or an email saying that we've been given the official referral and are invited to Bulgaria to meet our daughter. I'm on edge and trying to remain calm and keeping my thoughts focused is tough. The phone calls and emails do come in to check on our adoption, and miraculously a lot of the money we've needed has come in too. It is burning a hole in my bank account!
Never in my life did I imagine traveling to Bulgaria, and now it's what I think about most of the time. When I am asked where we are in our adoption, I'm able to state the facts. The fact is that right now we are waiting. What I want to share too is the emotional toll that this waiting takes on a mother (and father). Several more steps must be taken for Rose to officially become our daughter. But in my mind and heart she already is. I find myself in prayer for her all the time that she will not be afraid, give up hope, and that those that are caring for her are doing the best they can. Truth be told, I miss her in this mysterious heartbreaking way even though we have yet to meet.
But in my waiting, I'm carried by the comfort of my loving Father. I'm reminded that His timing is perfect. Not late. Not annoyingly delayed. Not completely out of my control. Perfect. Yes, I am wound up, tense, anxious, and the news cannot come soon enough. But the passage of time is less devastating knowing it's part of a bigger plan. This is what I tell myself while I'm waiting and while I carry the heavy burden right now of not knowing much of anything about my daughter, I am forced to let pieces of it go. To shed the weight of my worry, to pile it onto my graceful Savior so that I can get out of bed each day even when the answer is, "right now it's tough."
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
One Way Ticket
A year from now our home and family will look much different. Our kids will be all under one roof and Scott and I will have several months of parenting a teenager under our belts. We will have bought a total of five airline tickets crossing continents to unite our family. Four round trip and one one way.
The imagery of purchasing a one way ticket used to conjure up country song lyrics in my mind, or might have painted a picture of a wanderlust traveler journeying around the world. But now? Now I picture handing a one way ticket to the trembling hands of a girl and asking her to leave the only place she's ever called home. There's no safety net, no return date, and no instruction manual. We don't know what she will have to her name, very possibly nothing but the clothes on her back when she leaves her foster home for the last time. She is not a small child who will cry, tantrum, and sleep on the plane. She'll be very aware of the monumental transition that will take place in her life, and it's my delusional hope that she'll be more excited than terrified.
I hope that we can do small things to prepare her to take that step. The one that we've known about for almost a year now. The one I could not comprehend all at once. Yes, in a year from now she will have learned that we love her, and want to provide the best for her. But the first day....that first flight (maybe of her entire life) will take God's provision. I need Him for the big things. I pray for Him to support Rose in ways I won't know how to. To wrap his arms around her and comfort her if she doesn't want us to. To make a clear path before her so she won't be as afraid. Mostly, to prepare in her heart in that supernatural way He worked in ours for her to know that she was meant to be our daughter.
We still don't know most of Rose's story. I've accepted that it will take a long time to get to know her, and for her to get to know and trust us. But the thing that has kept me going up until this point is to do what I have to do for her to know about us. When we mailed our dossier, along with the largest check I've ever written in my life, it was in the hopes that she will soon be officially referred and match with Scott and I. And after all this work we've done will culminate into the one moment where a case worker speaks to Rose or her foster family, or however they'll relay to her...."You have a family. Here is a picture of them. They live in the United States. You have two younger brothers, and your Mom and Dad will be here in about a month so you can meet them."
When our daughter is "born" into our family we will be on separate timelines, in separate countries, but for the first time we'll each fall asleep that night with the knowledge of each other. We will be literally worlds apart, as our hearts unite us as family.
And my brave daughter, she'll have about a month or so to process what we've digested in 12 months. Before we show up and introduce ourselves, face to face for the first time. Fumble with language and figuring out the personal space that she'll want and how to shower her with the affection she deserves, customs, likes, dislikes, fears, joys, you name it. We have to appreciate that she has had to wait for over 3 years in a foster family, probably wondering if she'll ever be adopted. And from the time that she finds out about us until she's home with us will be a period of less than six months.
Yes, in a year from now our lives will be different. I hope I'm reminding Rose to pick her towels up off of the floor and asking her to trade one more Bulgarian word with me for an English one before she gets ready for bed. I am full of hopes for my daughter. But the biggest one right now is that when she learns about us, she will be filled with hopes too.
The imagery of purchasing a one way ticket used to conjure up country song lyrics in my mind, or might have painted a picture of a wanderlust traveler journeying around the world. But now? Now I picture handing a one way ticket to the trembling hands of a girl and asking her to leave the only place she's ever called home. There's no safety net, no return date, and no instruction manual. We don't know what she will have to her name, very possibly nothing but the clothes on her back when she leaves her foster home for the last time. She is not a small child who will cry, tantrum, and sleep on the plane. She'll be very aware of the monumental transition that will take place in her life, and it's my delusional hope that she'll be more excited than terrified.
I hope that we can do small things to prepare her to take that step. The one that we've known about for almost a year now. The one I could not comprehend all at once. Yes, in a year from now she will have learned that we love her, and want to provide the best for her. But the first day....that first flight (maybe of her entire life) will take God's provision. I need Him for the big things. I pray for Him to support Rose in ways I won't know how to. To wrap his arms around her and comfort her if she doesn't want us to. To make a clear path before her so she won't be as afraid. Mostly, to prepare in her heart in that supernatural way He worked in ours for her to know that she was meant to be our daughter.
We still don't know most of Rose's story. I've accepted that it will take a long time to get to know her, and for her to get to know and trust us. But the thing that has kept me going up until this point is to do what I have to do for her to know about us. When we mailed our dossier, along with the largest check I've ever written in my life, it was in the hopes that she will soon be officially referred and match with Scott and I. And after all this work we've done will culminate into the one moment where a case worker speaks to Rose or her foster family, or however they'll relay to her...."You have a family. Here is a picture of them. They live in the United States. You have two younger brothers, and your Mom and Dad will be here in about a month so you can meet them."
When our daughter is "born" into our family we will be on separate timelines, in separate countries, but for the first time we'll each fall asleep that night with the knowledge of each other. We will be literally worlds apart, as our hearts unite us as family.
And my brave daughter, she'll have about a month or so to process what we've digested in 12 months. Before we show up and introduce ourselves, face to face for the first time. Fumble with language and figuring out the personal space that she'll want and how to shower her with the affection she deserves, customs, likes, dislikes, fears, joys, you name it. We have to appreciate that she has had to wait for over 3 years in a foster family, probably wondering if she'll ever be adopted. And from the time that she finds out about us until she's home with us will be a period of less than six months.
Yes, in a year from now our lives will be different. I hope I'm reminding Rose to pick her towels up off of the floor and asking her to trade one more Bulgarian word with me for an English one before she gets ready for bed. I am full of hopes for my daughter. But the biggest one right now is that when she learns about us, she will be filled with hopes too.
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
Go Fund Me
Just at precisely the exact moment I needed encouragement, we received a
notice that someone whom we've never met donated $1000 to our campaign.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! We're getting closer to moving this financial mountain!! Will you
consider reading and our story or donating to our cause?
https://www.gofundme.com/hs9nyysa
https://www.gofundme.com/hs9nyysa
Monday, June 27, 2016
Hungry
Thinking back to the times in my life I was pregnant, one thing that really stands out is the lack of sleep. An ever growing belly (occupied by one ninja and later one soccer player), back pain, vivid dreams, and middle of the night potty runs dominated my routine and I often felt TIRED. But the worst was when the baby was going through rapid growth, I'd wake up in the middle of the night starving and shuffle to the kitchen to find something to fulfill whatever craving had woken me. I couldn't always put my finger on just what it was that I wanted. Snacking on crackers or fruit would typically hold me over, but I really did not relish in the nauseating feeling of being so hungry, so empty, along with the feeling of being quite full (large and pregnant) and still longing for something that was no where to be found in my kitchen.
Fortunately those little boys who created new waking hours for me, both turned out to be pretty good sleepers. There are nights, such as this one, where I still have to wake to comfort one or both of them, chase away bad dreams, fetch a pacifier, or clean up something gross. But for the most part, I can count on a decent nights' sleep, and two pretty well-rested children in the morning. I'm so grateful that the "this too shall pass" moments of parenthood where my children or myself slept very little are really actually passing. And while there are other challenges dawning on the horizon of parenthood, I do typically sleep. Can I get a hallelujah?!?!
Looking back, I know it was God who sustained me during those periods of time as a new sleepless mom. When a two and a half hour stretch would somehow give me enough energy to take care of a willful 4 year old and a hungry infant. It took so much grace on His part to get me through those first few months! Yet, all the while, God worked to unraveled my old self, and poured into me a new kind of love. He transformed my heart into a mother's heart, bound by all of the beautiful moments He planned for us as I fell so deeply in love with my boys, and they learned to depend on me to meet their needs.
Of course I know that having Rose join our family as a 15 year old will look different. But processing that reality comes in phases. Recently, I had a moment of so much grief that it overwhelmed me. I grieve to not know Rose in the way I know my boys, I won't have held her in my arms as a tiny baby, nursed her, watch her take her first steps, listen in awe as her coos turn into words. I have missed her mischievous toddler years, her baby teeth, the chance to marvel as her sticky chubby cheeks melt away to leave her looking less like a baby and more like a young lady. Everything I know of my beloved boys, I will have missed for her. And here I am again, awake in the middle of the night with the yearning, the feeling of echoing hollowness missing something, combined with carrying the fullness of love and expectation. God has placed upon us this desire, this hunger to have Rose in our family. And as bizarre as it is to relate her adoption to a pregnancy craving...there is truth there. I so desperately want Rose to be here, although I have no idea what it will be like! I only know that I will but held over, but not be fulfilled until we meet.
During this time of waiting, I am confident that God's grace will be enough to carry us through. He has beautiful moments prepared for us, and His plan for Rose in our family will grow our love in ways I can't even imagine. He created my mother's heart, and I know He hears my prayers for Rose. I pray that all those moments we missed, sadly her entire childhood, she was loved and looked after. I pray that loving eyes met her gaze, and gentle hands cared for her. I pray that her needs were met, that no harm was done. I pray that she has happy memories, and has lived a life so far that is free from as much trauma as possible. I pray for God to sustain us both while we wait separately yet together for our next"this too shall pass".
Fortunately those little boys who created new waking hours for me, both turned out to be pretty good sleepers. There are nights, such as this one, where I still have to wake to comfort one or both of them, chase away bad dreams, fetch a pacifier, or clean up something gross. But for the most part, I can count on a decent nights' sleep, and two pretty well-rested children in the morning. I'm so grateful that the "this too shall pass" moments of parenthood where my children or myself slept very little are really actually passing. And while there are other challenges dawning on the horizon of parenthood, I do typically sleep. Can I get a hallelujah?!?!
Looking back, I know it was God who sustained me during those periods of time as a new sleepless mom. When a two and a half hour stretch would somehow give me enough energy to take care of a willful 4 year old and a hungry infant. It took so much grace on His part to get me through those first few months! Yet, all the while, God worked to unraveled my old self, and poured into me a new kind of love. He transformed my heart into a mother's heart, bound by all of the beautiful moments He planned for us as I fell so deeply in love with my boys, and they learned to depend on me to meet their needs.
Of course I know that having Rose join our family as a 15 year old will look different. But processing that reality comes in phases. Recently, I had a moment of so much grief that it overwhelmed me. I grieve to not know Rose in the way I know my boys, I won't have held her in my arms as a tiny baby, nursed her, watch her take her first steps, listen in awe as her coos turn into words. I have missed her mischievous toddler years, her baby teeth, the chance to marvel as her sticky chubby cheeks melt away to leave her looking less like a baby and more like a young lady. Everything I know of my beloved boys, I will have missed for her. And here I am again, awake in the middle of the night with the yearning, the feeling of echoing hollowness missing something, combined with carrying the fullness of love and expectation. God has placed upon us this desire, this hunger to have Rose in our family. And as bizarre as it is to relate her adoption to a pregnancy craving...there is truth there. I so desperately want Rose to be here, although I have no idea what it will be like! I only know that I will but held over, but not be fulfilled until we meet.
During this time of waiting, I am confident that God's grace will be enough to carry us through. He has beautiful moments prepared for us, and His plan for Rose in our family will grow our love in ways I can't even imagine. He created my mother's heart, and I know He hears my prayers for Rose. I pray that all those moments we missed, sadly her entire childhood, she was loved and looked after. I pray that loving eyes met her gaze, and gentle hands cared for her. I pray that her needs were met, that no harm was done. I pray that she has happy memories, and has lived a life so far that is free from as much trauma as possible. I pray for God to sustain us both while we wait separately yet together for our next"this too shall pass".
Monday, May 2, 2016
Leftovers
Lately I've been thinking a lot about my daughter. We are once again in the midst of paperwork and forward progress now that our home study is complete and the reality that she will be in our home soon is setting in. This is both exciting and in some ways unsettling. Similar to the way I felt when our second son was on his way, I knew that life was about to change, and in a way I was so excited to meet him, but bracing myself too for bumps in the road that I knew we might face with another child under our roof.
As I packed away the leftovers from tonight's dinner, an entire serving of everything I had cooked, I was reminded again of Rose and the little that I know of her continued to replay in my head. She is 14. Her favorite subject is math. Her favorite food is pizza. When she is sad, she writes in her journal. She dreams of living in a big house with her own room painted pink. I bring up the picture of her in my mind. The sweet smile she gives when talking about her little foster brother on the minute of so we've seen of her on video. The way she thoughtfully cocks her head when asked a question. Her back straight and hands folded neatly but nervously in front of her. This is my daughter and I'm able to look at her with love already, but there is so much more under the surface of her brief report, a short video or even the feelings I can already express for her.
Since I don't know my daughter very well yet, (and I don't know myself as the mother of a daughter yet either) I spend time daydreaming scenarios that we might have together and how I can reassure her that she is loved and belongs with us. It will be scary in some ways just like having a newborn for the first time. I will desperately want to make sure I'm meeting her needs, but will have to train myself to look for cues that she's fulfilled and comforted, especially if she's not eager or able to tell me right away. But I'm hoping that our initial bonds, no matter how late they are arriving, are deep and lasting for Rose and every other member of our family.
Our boys came to know us in such a different way. My story as a Mom started biologically and my mindset still grasps that familiarity of being introduced to my children at their births. I have no idea how it will feel the first time I see Rose in person. I know I will want to wrap my arms around her and shed tears of joy like I did with my boys, but I'm not certain if she will be ready for that. She knows nothing of us now, but will soon see our picture, find out the things that we like and don't like and will be able to form an idea of who we are before we ever come in contact with her. But like me trying to figure out how to bond with a "newborn teenager", the idea she has of parents might be very vague. I don't know if she's ever been held by her biological mother, or if affection from a very new person would startle her. We will surely both be outside of our comfort zones and forming attachment in a very different way than each of us is used to.
Ultimately, I know in my heart why Rose is going to share our family and why we will be part of her story. The simplest answer is that she is a gift from God. But like most of what God does, I still cannot completely comprehend why he chose us to be the parents of this child in Bulgaria with nearly a decade and a half of history that we know nothing about. It is not the sum of the parts that we can offer Rose her own pink room, a lot of journals to write in, little brothers to play with, a family to sit and have dinner with....It's deeper and much more raw than that. Rose belongs with us, but I feel it so succinctly in very small actions. Like putting away a plate of food, I feel like it should have, no, must be, shared with this dark haired, whispy daughter of mine who lives thousands of miles away. God reminds me each day, like a brilliant ray of sunshine breaking through a cloudy overcast sky, He has a life planned for Rose and we are in it. He will help us to become the family that she needs.
We have been entrusted with a daughter to love and protect, and I know God will provide a way to do exactly as He's asked. Already our beautiful daughter has offered us the opportunity to be good and faithful servants. To take a leap of faith and be carried by our Father. She has shown us that it is no cliche, these blessings we've been given are meant to be shared. And the way God provides and multiplies His gifts is truly an amazing process to witness. Yes, there is sorrow and loss at the heart of adoption, but each one of these orphans was so carefully made and is so deeply loved, their potential to blossom in a family waits at the thresholds of the hearts of people like you and I. The blessing is ours to receive if we open the door.
"From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked." Luke 12:48
As I packed away the leftovers from tonight's dinner, an entire serving of everything I had cooked, I was reminded again of Rose and the little that I know of her continued to replay in my head. She is 14. Her favorite subject is math. Her favorite food is pizza. When she is sad, she writes in her journal. She dreams of living in a big house with her own room painted pink. I bring up the picture of her in my mind. The sweet smile she gives when talking about her little foster brother on the minute of so we've seen of her on video. The way she thoughtfully cocks her head when asked a question. Her back straight and hands folded neatly but nervously in front of her. This is my daughter and I'm able to look at her with love already, but there is so much more under the surface of her brief report, a short video or even the feelings I can already express for her.
Since I don't know my daughter very well yet, (and I don't know myself as the mother of a daughter yet either) I spend time daydreaming scenarios that we might have together and how I can reassure her that she is loved and belongs with us. It will be scary in some ways just like having a newborn for the first time. I will desperately want to make sure I'm meeting her needs, but will have to train myself to look for cues that she's fulfilled and comforted, especially if she's not eager or able to tell me right away. But I'm hoping that our initial bonds, no matter how late they are arriving, are deep and lasting for Rose and every other member of our family.
Our boys came to know us in such a different way. My story as a Mom started biologically and my mindset still grasps that familiarity of being introduced to my children at their births. I have no idea how it will feel the first time I see Rose in person. I know I will want to wrap my arms around her and shed tears of joy like I did with my boys, but I'm not certain if she will be ready for that. She knows nothing of us now, but will soon see our picture, find out the things that we like and don't like and will be able to form an idea of who we are before we ever come in contact with her. But like me trying to figure out how to bond with a "newborn teenager", the idea she has of parents might be very vague. I don't know if she's ever been held by her biological mother, or if affection from a very new person would startle her. We will surely both be outside of our comfort zones and forming attachment in a very different way than each of us is used to.
Ultimately, I know in my heart why Rose is going to share our family and why we will be part of her story. The simplest answer is that she is a gift from God. But like most of what God does, I still cannot completely comprehend why he chose us to be the parents of this child in Bulgaria with nearly a decade and a half of history that we know nothing about. It is not the sum of the parts that we can offer Rose her own pink room, a lot of journals to write in, little brothers to play with, a family to sit and have dinner with....It's deeper and much more raw than that. Rose belongs with us, but I feel it so succinctly in very small actions. Like putting away a plate of food, I feel like it should have, no, must be, shared with this dark haired, whispy daughter of mine who lives thousands of miles away. God reminds me each day, like a brilliant ray of sunshine breaking through a cloudy overcast sky, He has a life planned for Rose and we are in it. He will help us to become the family that she needs.
We have been entrusted with a daughter to love and protect, and I know God will provide a way to do exactly as He's asked. Already our beautiful daughter has offered us the opportunity to be good and faithful servants. To take a leap of faith and be carried by our Father. She has shown us that it is no cliche, these blessings we've been given are meant to be shared. And the way God provides and multiplies His gifts is truly an amazing process to witness. Yes, there is sorrow and loss at the heart of adoption, but each one of these orphans was so carefully made and is so deeply loved, their potential to blossom in a family waits at the thresholds of the hearts of people like you and I. The blessing is ours to receive if we open the door.
"From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked." Luke 12:48
Monday, April 11, 2016
Track and Field
There was a time in my life when running was important to me. I was never a distance runner, endurance is not my strong suit, but for a time I was fast. I felt quick, competitive and strong when I was on the track. I didn't win a ton of races, but I ran them the best that I could. I improved my personal best running against those who were better than me. I typically competed in the 100, 200 meter dashes, and also ran relays. Occasionally I'd be put in to run the 400 which was tough for me. Some sprinters I ran with also competed in the hurdles. This was something I could never make myself do, a few times I attempted running full speed at a hurdle and instead of preparing and jumping, I would panic and slow down. I couldn't picture my short legs carrying me over that wooden obstacle before me, all I envisioned was getting tangled midair and crashing onto my face. Some girls made it look easy, they gracefully cleared each hurdle with room to spare and landed full tilt ready to approach the next one and the one after that. I'm sure by their confident strides, they weren't picturing themselves landing in a bloody embarrassing heap like I did, they knew they'd get over each hurdle.
When we first started this experience of adoption I had prepared myself for the long run. We'd have waiting to do. And since we are adopting an older child that wait time is cut short, still I've been told that a year is quick for international adoption. As I mentioned, sprinting is my forte, and even metaphorically I can get through just about any challenge with a decent amount of patience as long as I can see the finish line. Heeding the warnings that this adoption would be a "marathon" due to the time it takes to add a child to your family when everything has to be on paper, paid for and approved by two separate governments, I have been trying to mentally prepare myself to wait.
There is not just waiting though. There is certainly some hurrying involved as well. Like when it's Veteran's Day and our documents have to be notarized and I rush them into a tax prep law office since all the banks are closed. We hurry when there's signatures needed, training to sign up for, and when we're rushing to respond to each agency to make every second count so Rose doesn't have to wait in vain.
A year may be a long time to wait, but I don't agree that this experience is like a marathon. Yes, we're still near the beginning, but I'm not digging down deep to keep going or maintain a winning pace. We are still waiting on our home study to be finalized ( we are approved though, yay!! ). But until we pass that barrier, there is nothing we can do to move this forward. Like the home study approval, we are going to face numerous obstacles in adoption. It's a process with steps we still aren't 100% clear on, but we can see the finish line. We have to keep pushing on and before the next challenge comes we will undoubtedly have to work our hardest to clear it. Yes, this process takes courage, just like running hurdles. But more importantly, adoption takes faith, because before you can make yourself leap you have to trust God that He will help you land so you're not worried the entire time about falling on your face :)
Pam
When we first started this experience of adoption I had prepared myself for the long run. We'd have waiting to do. And since we are adopting an older child that wait time is cut short, still I've been told that a year is quick for international adoption. As I mentioned, sprinting is my forte, and even metaphorically I can get through just about any challenge with a decent amount of patience as long as I can see the finish line. Heeding the warnings that this adoption would be a "marathon" due to the time it takes to add a child to your family when everything has to be on paper, paid for and approved by two separate governments, I have been trying to mentally prepare myself to wait.
There is not just waiting though. There is certainly some hurrying involved as well. Like when it's Veteran's Day and our documents have to be notarized and I rush them into a tax prep law office since all the banks are closed. We hurry when there's signatures needed, training to sign up for, and when we're rushing to respond to each agency to make every second count so Rose doesn't have to wait in vain.
A year may be a long time to wait, but I don't agree that this experience is like a marathon. Yes, we're still near the beginning, but I'm not digging down deep to keep going or maintain a winning pace. We are still waiting on our home study to be finalized ( we are approved though, yay!! ). But until we pass that barrier, there is nothing we can do to move this forward. Like the home study approval, we are going to face numerous obstacles in adoption. It's a process with steps we still aren't 100% clear on, but we can see the finish line. We have to keep pushing on and before the next challenge comes we will undoubtedly have to work our hardest to clear it. Yes, this process takes courage, just like running hurdles. But more importantly, adoption takes faith, because before you can make yourself leap you have to trust God that He will help you land so you're not worried the entire time about falling on your face :)
Pam
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