Meeting Our Brave Girl

originally posted on October 26, 2021

Hospital halls are thick with the bittersweetness of this broken world. Life begins and in the next room, a life ends. Healing is witnessed and in the next hour, an illness is taking over. We are intensely aware of how fragile we are, how one visit can change our lives.

It feels heavy.
Sacred.
People take their first or their last breath here.
We walk slow. We speak quietly. We breathe deep walking these halls. Not trying to get too dark but I feel it here today.
Pushing through heavy doors and passed beeping alarms. Rounding the corner in the dim room I see her.

Six weeks old, precious, beautifully perfect. She hasn't even been outside of these walls and she has seen more loss and more challenge than most people in their entire lives. But she is here. She is not giving up. She is a fighter. And if she never meets a milestone, never hits an academic standard, never takes a step, speaks a word, sees the world, hears my voice, or makes anything with her hands...she bears the image of the King and it is my honor and privilege to behold her, to hold her in my arms, to be her voice. And do everything in power to help her fight.

A little soul has entered the world! A little soul is fighting.

Foster care. Adoption. Special needs.

Life and loss, joy and sorrow, hope and challenge are mingled here, woven together. We are familiar with this dance between and back and forth and overlapping.

* * * *

Words scribbles last week when our lives changed forever. Our agency called about a baby who endured a traumatic birth which results in some injuries and needed a foster home. We prayed and prayed and called and talked. And we have so many unknowns but the truth and bottom line is: there is a little soul that needs a home on earth and lots of love.

We are so in love!!!! 💕💕💕💕
We firmly believe God will surprise us with all the many miracles and mountains He will move for this sweet girl of His.

"Take my hands and let them move at the impulse of Thy love. Take my feet and let them be swift and beautiful for Thee, swift and beautiful for Thee."

Losing a child I never really had

Today is hard.

Today I could be meeting my baby boy.

 

But I'm not.

My heart has been a breath away from spilling over and emptying all day. There are things to be done, little people to attend to and that keeps me busy. But in the lulls, and the short moments I'm alone in a room, I mourn this deep loss. The loss of a baby that was never really mine. It's so confusing, and that makes it even harder.

We've all seen the amazing, beautiful, and sometimes miraculous adoption announcement photos. How could you not love them? Heck, we have sent out three different adoption announcements and have walls full of them which I cherish deeply.

But often behind many of those photos are the echoes and shadows of could-have-been children. The birth mom who did not chose the family, the birth mom who decided to parent, the failed match for whatever reason, the baby returned to the birth family after coming home with the adoptive family, so many ways and reasons.

It's heartbreaking. Shattering. Losing a child you never really had. It's not something you prepare for when starting out on this adoption journey, but there it is. We are in the midst of this unexpected match, and unexpected loss.

For me, I remember nearly every phone call or email. I remember the baby from Florida who was born in July. The baby in California born in May. I remember the baby girl in Oklahoma who was perfectly perfect for us, except for the red tape in the way.

But mostly I remember the baby boy in Ohio. We packed. We were ready to book plane tickets. We called everyone to tell them the news. Then...complications, medical bills, too many unknowns that the agency put it all on hold.

And now, I remember today. Or rather, Monday. An unexpected call in the morning that set our usual quiet day into a flurry of crazy and hope and joy and thrill!. A baby boy in Oklahoma. Fresh and new, ready and waiting. I caught my breath.

We don't even have our home study updated. It was through a connection of a friend that our names were specifically mentioned. And that is the power of adoption. Once you are in, you are in. It's as if a banner raised above the adoption offices all over the country “They are ready again!” And our names are whispered, and our phone is ringing.

It was crazy. It was perfect. It was even going to be this amazing, incredible story of how God moves and works through adoption.

And we flew into Update Mode. All the forms, all the paper work, bank statements, medical cards, travel plans, finances ready to go, family medical forms, finger prints and background checks. Papers strewn all over the floor, a pots of coffee drank and another brewing. There was so much to do and we had two days to do it. But it was possible. So we moved. Nonstop. There was no time to breath and soak it in.

Until about 1 am when we sat down in the quiet of the night, kids asleep, and Christmas lights twinkling. We sighed deep and locked eyes. And we knew.

Someone had told me “You will know if this is your baby and then you will do everything you need to.” And the thing is...no matter how great it all looked on paper, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was not my child.

This baby belonged to someone else.

We looked at each other and we both knew. Despite how perfect it seemed God was calling us in a different direction. God had another plan for us, another plan for this baby. And no matter how hard it hurts, how impossible it felt, no matter how shattered my heart would be – we had to say no.

It was perfect, he was perfect, and we had to say no.

I know that there are some people who will think this was the stupidest decision we could have ever made. And I honestly have that same fear deep down too. There was a baby, already born, with placement fees in our ideal range, and we were literally the only possible family in the entire country. A baby placed in our laps and we said no.

And for the next few days I will be living with this sudden ghost of what could have been. A constant daydream of the other. I'm changing a diaper at 9 am We would be getting to the agency office. I'm getting snacks at 10 am. We would be meeting the baby, meeting the birth mom. I'm making lunch. We would be discharged from the hospital and heading to the hotel. I'm kissing my kids goodnight and giving last cuddles.  We would be snuggling one more - a little newborn. It's terrible and I feel defeated in so many ways. And tired. But at the same time there is a peace that hovers above and swirls around all these things and thoughts.

The thing is, when we decided yet again to grow our family through adoption, we surrendered the journey to God's best plan. We might not ever understand it all, but we can trust it is best. It might not look how we want, but we can know He will do far better than we can imagine.

So even though my emotions are being continually tossed between peace at our decision and deep regret wanting to pick up the phone and call all the people and change our minds, to back peddle as fast as light, I trust that God is unchanging and faithful and knows what He is doing. So I don't have to know it all, justify it all, understand it all.

Even though my heart is breaking every minute, and I will mourn the loss of this baby for a long time, I know the Father holds my heart in His hands with love and promise to finish what He began in us.

And to you, dear friend, I'm praying for peace and wisdom for you. Maybe you are exactly where we are -- mourning a could-have-been child. Maybe you are choosing between two perfectly good options. Maybe someone is choosing for you -- a birthmom saying no, a college application denied, worked out plans derailed...Whatever it is, please know we serve and are loved by a God who is bigger. A Father who promises to finish the good work He started in you, and to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or even imagine. We are loved by a God who spoke heaven and earth into existence and cares about every detail. Even though it may look and feel like things are falling apart, we can trust that the Lord is with us. He goes before us, he stands beside us -- in all things: the joyful, the heartbreaking, the unexpected and wearisome. And He has amazing things in store for us if we hold on for the ride, even when we're white-knuckled and confused.

Tiny Tribe of Five

I've had months to write the story of our newest family member and still here I am writing after finalization. Maybe because there were parts of me that couldn't believe it was true; refused to concede to the comfort that this is real and not a dream. Maybe because the whirlwind of it all made me stop and be present, not think about what to write or what others might like to read – but to take in every moment of this beautiful gift we'd been given. Maybe because two two and under plus a six year old is...exhausting. Wonderfully, amazingly, delightfully, truly exhausting. And maybe because it is rather like a dream that I often find difficult to believe myself.

I've discovered that when I say “it feels like a dream” I'm really speaking into the glory of God and His sovereign plan. It feels like a dream because in my finite human mind I never could have guessed this life was ahead for us. But He knew. He's been here and seen it all from the beginning. It's hard for me to believe that He could make beautiful from ashes, bring life into a barren land, but He did and it brings me to my knees to think of His faithfulness and love.

LET'S REWIND

On March 25, 2016 we welcomed home a bubbly 13 month-old baby boy named Bear. And seven months later we finalized his adoption on October 25, 2016. And although we were mainly focused on settling in with Bear and adjusting/attaching/bonding and generally getting used to being a family of four, God had some surprises in store for us!

On May 10, 2016, only six weeks after Bear came home, I got a message from a long time friend from college. It read something like this…

Her: “I know you are just settling in and it is probably far from your mind and timing, but I work with a little boy in respite care and his worker is looking for permanent placement. Might you be interested?”

Me: “BUUUHHHH?!!”

Excited, interested, overwhelmed, in complete disbelief – This could happen?! This would never happen!

Of course we were interested. We had decided at the very beginning we would always say “Yes” until God said “No.” So I immediately got in touch with his worker at which time it was decided that the timing just wouldn't work. We were still months from finalizing Bear's adoption and this little boy needed a family now. I told his worker not to wait for us, find him a family, and we will be praying for him. We kept in touch throughout the summer until a family was found. God had closed the door, said no, and we trusted in His plan. It still felt like, in some ways, we had lost a member of our family, but I knew that God's plan was best. So we mourned the loss of the possibilities, and moved forward – looking excitedly toward finalizing Bear's adoption.

I did secretly dream about the possibility of having two boys only months apart. Like twins. We had always wanted twins. They would be best friends, my life would be crazy, our family would be full, and loud and perfect. I kept it to myself mostly because – a family was found...and our family was complete with Bear at the time, I wanted to focus on him and our new life together.

As Bear's waiting period was winding down and his finalization was approaching Jason and I decided to update our home study as soon as possible so we would be ready and available for any child that might need a family. So I got the home study paper work a couple weeks before the finalization hearing to get started on the basic forms.

We finalized Bear's adoption on October 25, which was wonderful! Huge emotions, huge relief.

THE. NEXT. DAY.

October 26, (I mean, seriously, the very next day) I got an email from Anita, our case manager at Legacy of Adoption, a forwarded email from the little boy's worker…

“The placement fell through, is your family still interested?!”

I remember reading the email over and over on the couch. Jason and the kids were playing in front of me in the living room. Finally I fully grasped the meaning of the words and what was actually happening.

“Jason, you're never going to guess what Anita just sent me.”

“Ha, the little boy's worker is wondering if we are still interested?” as he continued to chuckle to himself.”

“Yes."

“What?! Yes! Yes, we are interested!”

Thus began the flurry of paper work, emails, phone calls…

After what seemed like an eternity we finally got to meet our sweet Jase at a doctor's appointment in Fargo, ND. Even though it was a medical appointment and impersonal, not at all the intimate setting one imagines seeing their child for the first time it was perfect. Yet, also exactly, the same setting most parents meet their children- a hospital with doctors and nurses and all the things while you try to take in and store for eternity every moment and every breath.

It's difficult for me to describe the first time I met our children. Each time, much like every birth, I assume, is so different. But what's so very hard for me is the tug of war between being completely, honestly, and deeply in these precious first moments while at the same time holding back and distancing myself out of respect for the foster family, who loves and protects this child as their own, and our new child who has absolutely no idea who I am. I'm a bumbling mess and I always leave hoping the foster family hasnt changed their mind about me. Was I too friendly? Too distant? Too quiet? Did I talk too much? Did I say the right things? Do they know I love this baby with my whole heart already? Can they tell? Do they know I will do anything for this baby, even if it means its best we part ways? Do they know it will break me, but I'd do it anyway, for him?

By the end of the day of appointments I was holding this little amazing boy in my arms. When we were saying goodbye he didn't me to let him go. And in that moment, my heart soared. It was going to be okay. Whatever happened during that day, he thought I was pretty great.

A couple weeks later we got to have him over for a weekend visit. It was amazing. Life with three kids, two under two, was crazy and loud and everything wonderful.

February 5, 2017: WELCOME HOME!!

We traveled up to Bemidji, MN in the middle of winter. Jason and I had met, married, and spent our first few years together in Bemidji. Full circle and all that. It was kind of magical. We had also spent time last summer camping in Bemidji not even realizing that our soon-to-be youngest son was living just miles away.

As we drove away as a family of five my heart flooded with memories of those familiar roads. We lived in Bemidji during the darker seasons of our infertility journey. I drove down those back roads alone blaring music trying to drown out my fears, singing, praying, begging, screaming. I've pulled over unable to see the road through hot tears, hopeless and afraid our hands would forever be empty. Driving through town with little fingers wrapped around my fingers, remembering the corner where I first whispered “infertility” to myself, our old apartment where I threw countless wasted pregnancy tests into the trash, the place where I was told maybe I can't get pregnant because God doesn't think I would be a good mom, the dead end where I screamed until I had no voice – I was undone. Overcome with gratitude. As I walked through those days in despair, God knew I would return to bring my baby home. God knew there would be a boy born 10 years later and he would be ours. Why did I ever doubt?

I don't know why certain circumstances happened while led our boy to be placed in foster care. I don't know why his other permanency placement fell through. I don't know. But I do know that in this fallen world I am so happy that God is faithful to redeem, shower grace, and has won the victory through Jesus. I don't know why these things happened, but I'm thankful God worked His plan for our lives together in such a way that our life met Jase's just at the perfect moment to merge.

God is good. And His plan is good. And yes, He does have a plan. If you hang on long enough and let Him lead the way, you'll love it. I promise. It will be far different than what you may have chosen, or what you thought was good, but it is perfect, it's yours and it is good.

There are really no words to describe this last year, these last few months. And really, I think you can understand. Literally the day after we finalized with Bear, we get told about our next child? Only God can write that story, and so unexpectedly perfect.

Jase's adjustment has been fairly smooth. He fit in just perfectly with Bear and Arianna. After a few weeks his separation anxiety settled down and he started to get more comfortable at home, his home. Bear and Jase are now behaving like true brothers – fighting and teaming up against us all in their mischievous ways. Arianna is a wonderful helper, and loves her brothers through and through. Life is loud and messy and wild with this tiny tribe, and we love it.

Thank you for all your support, encouragement, love and prayers. We are so thankful to be surrounded by such a wonderful community and village.

Hope in the Wait: Preaching to myself

We haven't heard anything new as we wait to travel to meet our little boy. The waiting can be excruciating, especially after enduring a history of disastrous waiting periods. Old doubts and fears creep in, the joy of celebration is met with memories of sorrow. Slowly the excitement wears off as daily tasks need to be completed, and you wonder if it was a dream, maybe you are mistaken. Because nothing has changed. It all looks the same. Because you are. STILL. WAITING.


Here's what I've come to know about the wait, and what I hold to every day, particularly today when it feels like dreams are slipping. Maybe you aren't waiting right now in this moment. I've been there and looooooooved it. It's nice. There's a peaceful stillness in the air. Enjoy it friend, revel in it, because following this season of contentment is waiting. Waiting is waiting for you.


The wait can be isolating. It can be lonely and scary, a time in which you are an easy target for the enemy -- as you are ready to scream to the heavens, feeling you are yelling into vast empty universe. Friends and family may not understand, recognize, or acknowledge the depths of the valleys in the wait.


The wait is dark. You are blind. The end, and much of the path toward the end, is unknown. We forget life moves in seasons, and everyone else seems to have hit their BEST, perfect season their whole entire lives. Jealousy and even envy slip in. You feel isolated and maybe you begin to isolate yourself, not wanting to see how great everyone else has it. A hermit binge-watching Downton Abbey (oh, wait, is that just me???)


The wait is exhausting. You're always ON. Watching. Preparing. Ready to go. For us, with infertility it was the constant hope and defeat cycle that killed me. Maybe I'm pregnant. No I'm not. I just wanted to get off that crazy train, but getting off means no chance of getting pregnant. So we stayed the course and fought the defeat. Month after month. Years blended together. Tiring. Exhausting. I was beat. For us, with adoption, it was the constant paper work. Application. Home study forms. Papers to the notary. Grant applications. Never ending calls about possible placements. Hope soars. Hope is dashed. Over and over and over. Again, wanted to get off the train, or at least pull into a station for a breather!!! But taking a break meant pulling our profile, putting our case on hold, and we might miss our future child, so we stayed the course. Buckled in tight for the ride. We held on tight. Waiting is tiring. It saps your energy. Sometimes all you want to do is bury yourself in the covers and stay until it's over. But life continues so you keep moving. Drained. Sleep deprived. Exhausted. Yeah, I've been there. I'm there right now again. Let's pray for His strength to keep us going. Let's pray for rest. Let's pray for opportunities of spiritual and physical refreshing. And for comfort, for energy -- His supernatural strength to give us a boost to get through our day.
 
The wait can be painful. Dreams dashed, hope deferred, well-meaning comments hitting just where it hurts. Unsolicited advice, platitudes, clichés, well-intended assurances ("I'm sure it will work out.") leaving bitterness, How do you know? Comments dismissing your grief, belittling your longing. Self-esteem and value may waver. Confidence is shattered. Faith falters. Tiny bits of yourself are lost along the way. One day you wake up and wonder who you have become, how did you get here, whose life is this...because it surely can't be yours!


Yes, the wait is isolating, dark, and painful. It's true. Be forewarned. But there is HOPE.


The wait is not a mistake. You are not forgotten. You are not missed or ignored. Yes, you may feel that way. Others may indeed pass you over, you may be forgotten. But God. God sees you, knows you, remembers you, hears you. If He knit you together, formed you in the darkness, knows the number of your days and the hairs on your head -- you are not forgotten dear one. So pray for reminders of His love, and how truly dear you are.


The wait is part of His plan. Our gracious, sovereign Lord and Father is orchestrating something truly incredible. There are many moving parts. Although you may not be able to see beyond yourself in this moment (and sometimes that is okay), there is a bigger picture and plan. God is moving and working. God is present in this season of waiting. This wait, it may be a time of building, tearing down, washing clean, preparing...elsewhere. Pray that He reminds you of His faithfulness in tangible ways while you wait. Pray that your heart is being prepared for HIS plan, rather than your wants/desires/expectations.


The wait is seasonal. It will end. This too shall pass. This wait, this high-alert, anxious anticipation, will end. Just as the time before the wait ended, this too will end. Our good Father holds all seasons in His hands. He's present now in the wait, just as He has already worked out the future. This season may seem unending and eternal. Rest assured, it's not. But remember, dear one, it might not end how you had hoped, so use this waiting season well...


There is purpose in the wait. God is preparing you. This is a season of pause. Use your time in it well. Learn, grow, prepare, thrive, soak it up. In my wait for a child I wasted so much time wishing and hoping instead of preparing. It was only in the last few months that I decided to read parenting books, figure out how we would discipline and teach our children. And good thing, because we did not bring a baby home but a sweet and sassy three year old in the middle of her tantrum phase! How could He be using this waiting time to prepare you? How better could you use your time? What is He teaching you? Maybe it's as simple as spending your wishing moments in prayer and pouring over the Word. Pray for guidance, wisdom, and strength during this wait time. Pray that the Lord would use you, speak through you, bring others along side you to help you and offer support.


There is JOY in the wait. Joy is new every morning. Not just on mornings when we get what we want. Every morning. Even mornings that make for seemingly dark days. God doesn't promise happiness, but lavishes joy. Be still and enjoy the sunrise. Take a walk and sing. Paint. Cut out s paper snowflake in July. Rearrange your furniture. Dance in the driveway. Splurge on a coffee and drink it with the windows rolled down. There is joy. New friends will find their way to you if only you open your eyes and heart. New passions and loves will awaken within you. And you may find, if you are willing to spend this waiting time well, that what you once wanted is no longer your heart's desire...or that He has given it in a different way than you imagine...or has blessed you far greater than you could have imagined. Pray that He brings you joy and you are not too focused on the frustration of wait to see it.


Waiting is for praying. He knows your heart's desire. Be vulnerable with your Heavenly Father. Speak it to Him. Tell Him your longing. Tell Him your fears in not getting what you hope for. Tell Him your frustrations. Pray for comfort and peace. I don't believe in the power of spoken word, in the sense that what you say out loud carries some weight to directly affect the path of your life. Such as, saying "I'll bet I have cancer." means you will indeed get cancer. No, I don't believe that. But I do believe in the power of prayer and that our God is a God who loves deep and wide. Speak your fears and He will calm your heart. Speak your desires and He will realign your priorities, tell you NO, YES, or wait. Your prayers may not *poof* magically make anything happen, but you'll be surprised how easy it gets to talk with Him and how He speaks to your heart. And your heart is the thing that matters here.


If you are waiting, let me pray for you right now. Father God, we wait. We know You are so good. Your plan is good. We trust and believe in this, and if we waver speak Your love to our hearts and in our ears. You have created Heaven and Earth with a simple word. You have written the story of Your love for us throughout history, through Your Word. You have brought us to this very moment. Lord, we don't know why we wait. We can't see the end but we trust you are already there. You hold our future in Your hands, and Your plans for us are good. Give us strength in the wait, peace and courage. Lord, give us comfort and calm our fears. Speak to us, use others to give comfort and speak your truth. Help us to use this time of waiting well.  Surround us with your love, and a village who loves you, as this can be an isolating time.  Open our eyes and ears to old and new friends, to ways to help others who also wait, to the joy you have for us as we wait patiently for your plan to unfold in your time. Help us to recognize ways we need to adjust our expectations and priorities. Make us brave. Father God, you love us so well. Help us to not let our waiting and deferred hope block our vision of how truly amazing your love for us is. Help us to speak love, give grace, be generous and kind in our waiting and frustration. Thank You for the wait. Thank You for working in the wait. We know You are preparing something good for us, and though we know we might never see our dreams come to fruition in our life time, You are always good and have already won the victory. We are finite. Thank you for being infinite. You can do immeasurably more than we could ask or imagine and we trust you in this. We ask all these things in Jesus' name.


I am also reminded again and again that while our wait is life changing, for others their wait is literally LIFE GIVING. Waiting for a heart, or other organ, blood transfusion, a cure. If this is you, waiting for something life giving...I'm praying for you as I write this. I'm thinking about you. I see you. And our awesome, great Father in Heaven sees you too.


So as much as I loathe this wait, I recognize how truly blessed we are that this is our wait. Blessed that our boy really is out there, real, and waiting for us right now. And I am certain that, for whatever reason, there is purpose in this wait too. Maybe we'll never know and I'll have words with Jesus later, but I am confident there is a purpose behind this. Lord, give me peace and patience. Bring me joy and hope in my darkest moments. Thank you for the wait, and what it means to me. Amen.

While we wait...

In case you missed it, our family is growing! You can read about it here. And we are merely waiting for the ICPC to be cleared so we can travel to meet him! The last five days have been insanely surreal. Processing the quick decision of the adoption conference, the reality that we will have another child in our family, gathering all the things. Basically...


N E S T I N G


I have become a cleaning machine, an organizing goddess, a KonMari queen. Our trash can was nearly overflowing onto the curb the 24 hours after garbage day. I know myself. I'm going to want to come home to a spotless home, a breath of fresh air from travel and an extended say. I know, I'm crazy. My husband would agree with you. I've made peace with this part of myself. I'm also a packer. We will undoubtedly be packed for a week long stay by midnight tonight. I get it. There is something wrong with me. I also know I'm not going to want to do or be doing anything but chasing kids and snuggling.


Really, though, I think I just need something semi-productive to do while I wait. This time of waiting is my favorite. We didn't have this time with our first adoption. There is certainty and joyful hope in this wait. We wait, not knowing at all when we will leave, but we do know soon. And he is out there. He is real. He is breathing the air. He is laughing and crying and sleeping. And soon, so very soon, we will hold him. It's excruciating! And amazing and overwhelming, and dripping with joy.


So aside from the crazed cleaning lady I've become, life is pretty normal. We wake up, read, play, clean, go out and about...dinner. Except it's completely not normal. I'll find myself doing new weird things -- like registering at Target or Babies'R'Us. I'm literally holding the scanner and just stare at it then laugh out loud. Like, What am I doing here? I have no business here. And the excitement return, butterflies in my stomach just thinking about what we could be doing in a just a couple of days!


There is a buzz in the air. We are waiting, it is coming, and we feel it every second. I CAN'T WAIT!!


We would love your continued prayers. Pray for us as we prepare for this new adventure with all it's joy and adjustment. Pray for our girl -- she is so excited, yet has really no idea how much life will change. Pray for our little guy who is waiting, that this process is kind to him, that the Lord would prepare his heart for the things to come. Pray for the foster family, his birth family, and also the other families weren't chosen, and are still waiting. Pray too for anyone who is coming in contact with the ICPC -- that they feel inexplicably completed to push it through immediately. The offices are open tomorrow and I am praying for an answer by the end of the day!


Thank you so much for your love and support. It is felt, needed, appreciated, treasured, and such a blessing to us as we continue to grow this tiny tribe. We are so grateful for you. Truly we are.

Our Tiny Tribe is G R O W I N G !!!

I'll get to the pertinent info immediately because I know it's all you can think about right now!

IT'S A BOY!!

12 months old

Healthy, Handsome, Absolutely Gorgeous! 

Out of state

(We have not chosen a name yet, we cannot share his current name)

Here's the full story:

As always with this tiny tribe, the story is long with many twists and turns, so settle in if you want all the details! (Or scroll to the bottom to read about our next steps!)

We had been waiting since May 2015 to be matched. Being open to adoption out of foster care as well as domestic infant adoption, the possibilities were almost endless...and so were the potential match calls. Some weeks we'd get information on 4 cases, say yes to 3 cases, and for various reasons out of our control, none of the cases we were matched too. Then there was the failed match in January.

But God is good. So faithful. And His plan is always best. I don't say this lightly, like slapping on a smile and a bumper sticker. No, I say it from the depths of struggle and despair, and hope deferred, and would still shout it even if this post ended very differently. God is so good.

October 2015 || For the past 5 years I've been perusing adoptuskids.org. It's an online database of profiles of waiting children in the United States – with resources, articles, stats. SO much. Anyway...every once in while I check it out to see if any matches come up. I was up at midnight and searched, just to see. And this little sweet face with big brown eyes was staring at me. *swoon* He had my heart and I was in love. I just knew we were supposed to be together. I immediately completed an application and profile form...and at 3 am I submitted them! I began to pray for him daily, multiple times during the day. I prayed for his workers, his birth family, his foster family, and everyone who saw or touched his file. I prayed for the judges. I prayed.

The next day the social worker messaged me and asked for our home study. I did a dance in the dining room with praise hands all the way.

And we waited...and waited...and waited.

And prayed...

At the end of October his file was updated and put on hold – meaning they were done taking submissions and reviewing home studies. Pretty soon they would make a decision. We waited again. Any day now...

November || At the beginning of November I did another search on adoptuskids.org and found a sibling group of 2. So I submitted our profile for them as well. And heard back almost right away asking for our home study to be submitted for review. In two months we had two cases in the works. My prayer has been since that day that we wouldn't have to make a choice. I never wanted to get chosen for both cases and have to make the most impossible decision of my life. Nor did I want to get matched with a baby and be chosen for one of these cases. We committed to saying Yes when we could and prayed that God would figure out the rest.

In mid-November I got an email for the little boy's case worker saying she had been transferred to another office and new social worker would take over his case...she would start the whole process over. My instant reaction was “Of course!! Of course this would happen to us! Nothing with this family is ever simple or easy or a straight line.” But I was reminded in so many amazing ways – chance encounters, messages from friends, sermons (thank you Jason Strand) from people who had no idea what was happening at this point – that God doesn't do His best work in the simple, easy, straight line. God works in the mess, the impossible, the mountains and valleys so we can't say we had anything to do with it. So I trusted that He would figure it out, because I obviously could do nothing but wait.

Thanksgiving…

Christmas…

New Years…

Silence.

We heard absolutely nothing from either worker. I tried to be patient during the holidays because everything basically shuts down. A new year begins and no one wants to start something and have it unfinished at year end. But I kept thinking of these kids who are spending one more holiday season without their forever family.

It was agonizing. We felt more like a “normal” family as we were one year post finalization but through all the celebrations and gatherings I felt like we were so incomplete.

January 2016 || I sent emails to both workers stating our continued strong interest and asked if they needed any more information. And I heard next to nothing. Then on January 11th we were sent into our whirlwind failed match experience which left me completely drained, empty, heartbroken. I was a zombie. A mombie with empty hands.

My mother-in-law asked if I wanted to go to a retreat and said I could be a vendor to sell my hats. When she asked all I wanted to do was crawl into a hole and cry. I must have looked just plain pitiful. But I gave a tired yes. And a fire was set ablaze somehow. I was a knitting machine. I made three hats in one day. I made tags, created a logo, started an etsy shop, and made soap. Of all things. I just made and made and made. I have no other reason than that God was working in me, preparing me, restoring me, healing me. Giving my hands something to do while He worked on my heart. And I was back into fundraising mode, for the first time this journey. I couldn't explain it then, but looking back now I knew in my soul something was brewing.

AND THEN...|| On January 20th, two days before the event, one week after our failed match, I got a call from this little boy's social worker. After four months we got a call. Sixteen home studies had been submitted. They narrowed it down to three families. Us and two others. I started crying on the phone, and answered her questions like a babbling idiot, praying all the while God would somehow take the nonsensical words I was speaking and make something good.

In 19 days, on February 9th, there would be an adoption conference and they would make a decision. All his workers, advocates, foster parents, supervisors would gather together, look over the home studies and choose his forever family. I fell to my knees and pleaded with God. “You know the best for him. Open their eyes to the best. Even if it's not us. If not us, YOU are still good. Give us peace.”

I sold soap like a boss before the retreat. I sold soap and hats at the retreat. Looking back I don't know how I did either with all this going on, but hey, God is bigger than me and my frazzled brain.

We kept the information about the meeting close to our chest. My mind was telling me that we had a 33% chance. My soul was screaming HE IS OURS! But I knew it was in God's hands and His plan, though beautiful and perfect, could look starkly different from my desires. About 5 days before the meeting I told our small village to pray. Pray for him, pray for the workers, pray for the foster family, pray for us.

It is no accident I had watched War Room a few months before. No accident I had bought the book Fervent. No accident we watched War Room at the retreat. Prayer. Specific, strategic prayers. I posted them on my mirror. I carried them in my purse. I wrote them on small sheets of paper everywhere. In the past I would have probably binge-watched my way through Grey's Anatomy, again, or Downton Abbey, again. Not that my prayers, by any means, wafted their way up to the heavens and changed the course of the future. No, or, maybe yes? I dont know. But what I do know is that I felt peace. I was held by my faithful, good Father instead of leaning on myself, wanting to take control, or pout. I let go and it was so much better.

THE MEETING || At 10:30 am I got an email from the worker of the sibling group. My heart skipped a beat and dropped at the same time. I prayed, Oh, please don't make us choose!! I opened the email and it said a different family had been chosen within the state. I cried a bit, sad that we lost them too. But I kept thinking, maybe I got the email today, of all days, for a reason. This is part of a bigger plan. A prayer was answered. We don't have to choose.

At 1:00 pm I got a few messages that friends were praying, which is the most amazing thing in the world. I sent the Bea to rest time and played some music. I prayed. I didn't really know what to pray for – just that we'd have peace, this boy would be in the best home, and that God would be glorified no matter what.

At 2:00 our case manager told me her part of the meeting went well. She said she'd let us know if she heard anything. I assumed from our first experience with meetings like this it could be a few days before we heard their decision. Then, if we were chosen I expected another agonizing wait to make it official in court. (With our first we waited two months)

I resigned myself fully to the wait and resolved to be done adulting for the day. I settled our girl in the big bed with a movie and made a little nest for myself at the foot of the bed. I was going to sleep and dream and wait. But first, I had to run into the garage to get the meat for dinner. And then the phone rang...and I missed it!

“...You were picked...” I listened to the voicemail again and again “...YOU were picked...YOU WERE PICKED!!! Before that moment I have never in my life been full on laughing and ugly sobbing at the same time! I danced, I cried, I said a lot of, “WHUUUT”s.

Then I called Jason. He was sitting in his office at work and praying too. I had been updating him all day – the meeting started, Anita said it was good. And I told him the news. “Really? Are you serious?!” I could hear him choking up as tears streamed down my face.

Yes. We have a son and he is waiting for us.

.    .    .    .     .

This is what I learned when I was able to talk to his worker: Right now we have been chosen as his intended adoptive family and will soon take placement as his adoptive placement. There is NO court hearing that needs to take place. Praise Jesus! Only the ICPC (Interstate Compact on Placement of Children), basically the agreement between the two states stating we will take placement and Minnesota will supervise the rest of his placement until finalization. Red Tape. I had to ask her three times – ONLY the ICPC??? Yes. Once the ICPC has cleared we will be traveling to meet our little boy.

Let me just say that again…

Once this piece of paper is signed,

WE WILL MEET OUR SON AND TAKE HIM HOME!

So we wait. Again, but with so much excitement and anticipation I can barely contain myself.  We don't know when we will leave. Could be a week, could be two weeks. We are praying sooner than later!!

Please join us in prayer for this ICPC to get passed lightening fast, that all the workers who come in contact with it will be filled with an unexplainable sense of urgency to get it through. Pray that we prepare ourselves for the travels, as well as the enormous adjustments that will take place, especially our little girl. And pray for this sweet, little, gorgeous little boy who is waiting for us.

We will be in his state for about a week – with all the travel expenses and keeping a preschooler slightly entertained. So please also pray that the Lord will provide everything we need to meet our boy, get to know him, bring him home without a financial burden hanging over our heads. We trust He will provide, He always does. We just don't know how all the time.

Our Failed Match Story

It was a Monday morning. The day we were swept onto the fastest, craziest emotional rollercoaster of this second adoption journey.

Let me just back up a bit here.

We have been actively waiting, meaning our home study is updated and our profile is being shown to potential birthmoms and social workers in the foster care system, for almost 9 months. In those 9 months we have been contacted about 15-20 cases. Of those cases we have said yes to about 10. Sometimes we have to say no because the placement fees are too high, or there are needs that are beyond our capacities, or there are risks that we can't take on. We have to be honest. Brutally honest with ourselves and our worker about our fears, abilities, finances. Completely honest despite our incredible longing for more children, despite the time that has been ticking by, despite our knowledge of our calling to adopt. We have to be honest about every situation. Talk about self-awareness! My goodness.

This "ready and waiting stage" is also hard because it is so unpredictable and the waves are intense. One week we could get emails about 3 different cases, and have to wait a week to hear back about their decision. Sometimes a birthmom changes her mind about the adoption plan. Sometimes DHS has to step in and the baby/child is placed into foster care, for whatever reason. (There really are so many different situations.) And sometimes we could wait an entire month before we are contacted about a new case.  

Every time we say "no" our hearts break a little because we wish we had more finances available, or that we had a wheelchair accessible home, or hundred million things. We so wish we could say yes every time. And I cry and pray over those little ones.

Every time we say "yes" and it doesn't work out, for whatever reason -- another family is chosen, the birthmom chooses to parent, extra fees are calculated and much too high -- we are crushed. I cry and pray over these as well. I remember their due dates, their birth dates. And I will probably carry them with me forever.

And maybe you're wondering why you haven't heard about the 10 cases we have had said yes to? Honestly, sometimes we don't even tell our parents. It's hard enough looking at each other each morning we wait to hear about a birthmother's decision, and to tell him that she chose another family? Heartbreaking. Defeating. (Not that it's a contest by any means and anyone "wins." But defeat. despair, sorrow? I don't know what to call getting some hope knock out of you.) Maybe it's selfish. Maybe it's self-preservation. But sometimes I can only handle one other person knowing our hope and hurt. I don't want to answer the hard questions over and over again. I don't want to get the well-meaning, extra-long comfort hugs at every family event. I would cry. At every hug. At every event. And be the crazy cousin that never stops crying!! Really. And I cry ugly so...we keep it all close and keep moving forward.

And I know God has the best in mind for every one of those little babies, which is probably the one and only thing that keeps my head up and from spiraling into some sort of depression, so we trust Him and know He also is holding our family in His hands. And one day, one day, OUR child will come home to us.

Okay, so we've been waiting for 9 months. And then the email. Our case manager at Legacy of Adoption emailed about a birthmom out of state who had had her baby in December and they needed immediate placement. A stork drop, we in the adoption world call it. A baby boy already born, three weeks old, waiting for his forever family. We said Yes! And waited to hear back from Anita about the birthmom's decision. We didn't tell anyone. Because, I mean, we've been here so many times. Three stork drops before. Three emails exactly like this one -- baby already born, waiting. And three times we've been crushed. So the good man and I talked about what we might do in the off chance (ha) we were chosen (giggle giggle).

And I don't mean to make light of this wait time or being chosen. We were excited. We were thrilled. We were mentally and emotionally preparing to go see this baby. But we were cautious. We were hesitant to throw ourselves with reckless abandon in love with this baby. Because, chances are, as history had taught us, we wouldn't be chosen. And sometimes the only thing you have left to do is laugh at the craziness of the situation. All night we prayed and held our breath. But what if we ARE?

Tuesday morning my phone died. And I had small group so the Bea and I were rushing around the house getting ready. I jumped in the shower and yelled, "Eat your food!" over the sounds of the water. And looked for my comfy pants as I yelled, "Go potty!" across the house. And charged my phone a little while I brushed massive tangles out of beautiful, curly hair. I mean, you know how it goes...

And we ran to the van. In the garage I got a text from Anita that said, "CALL ME!" So I called her while I buckled in the squirmy, cranky, just had my nest of hair brushed and I hate everything kid. With phone pinned between my ear and shoulder Anita says, "It's you!" And I was speechless. Dumbfounded. And the tears were already escaping and running. All I could muster was, "Whuuuuuut?!" And she says, laughing, "that's not the response I was expecting!" Then I gathered myself and said, "Yes! Yes!"

So I got in the van and started to back out, because we were running late to small group. Then I said, "What am I doing?!" And thought, we've got to get our baby boy! And called the good man to tell him the news. And he was just as flabbergasted as me.

Not the expected response. || This is hard. Because everyone expects that we are giddy and joyful and have been waiting sooooooo long we've got to be stupid happy. But really, we hold back. Much like the pregnant-again woman who recently endured a miscarriage. Excited, yet...we know. Life has been ugly and we are no longer ignorant of loss. Every minute I am on the verge of tears. Even right this morning I brushed my teeth and nearly sobbed because of it all. The waiting. The paper work. The calls of hope. The calls of hope shattered. Let's face it, buckling a cranky girl in her car seat was not the moment I expected to learn I would be a mother again. And when we say "Yes!" we do wholeheartedly, but in the back of our minds we know the truth. We know nothing is guaranteed. We know this all could turn on its head in an instant.

And it does.

We made a game plan, as I sat in the van half backed out of the garage while the Bea whined in the back about having to be in a car seat when the car isn't moving. (and bless her little heart, she had no idea why everything changed in that moment) The good man and I planned our next moves. The rest of the day involved rushing to the bank to take out a loan for the placement fees. Packing all the things I could think that we might need for a hotel stay for a week (while the ICPC cleared). And calls to family because we need people ready to care for our little girl when we travel for a week!

I had a quick phone call with the out-of-state adoption agency and they said they were expecting placement to take place on Friday. FRIDAY. Three whole days of waiting to meet and hold our little boy. I gave myself a pep talk. "You can do this!"

The packing. Rather, the unpacking. Years of baby things bought, collected, prayed over, cried over. Things I had bought giddy and blissfully ignorant of a silly thing called "infertility." Things packed away some 9 years. Things I had forgotten about. Things I had thought about every. single. day. In the rush and hurry of the day, the crazy levels of anticipation and scurry, time stood still as I opened the lid of this special blue tote and dug inside. And for the first time in almost a decade there was actual hope pulsing through my veins.

The next two days flew by in a slow-motion frenzy. Holding my breath every second, remembering I'm traveling to meet our son and having a giddy/anxiety attack every time, packing, coordinating with family, looking at hotels flights, picking up baby things from friends...It sounds so simple and carefree typing it here. But every moment was bathed in anticipation. Every second counting down. I actually had the hours marked and was waiting for the call to travel. We have a son. He is in a different state. And we can't go meet him for the first time yet. I mean, time. is. frozen.

Thursday afternoon I sat in a pile of baby clothes and swaddles and I was stupid happy. I let go. I let myself go there. Stupid happy. Imagined the weight of his little body in the onesie I had bought 10 years ago. Imagined life in the hotel with him -- sleeping, cuddles, changing, bathing. And nursing. A friend gave me a Lact-aid, a nursing supplimenter system, and I just stared at it in disbelief. I'm really going to get to do this?!

I got up from my pile of baby treasures and called the case worker. Hoping for a good word.

Good news! The birth mom had signed the papers! I danced in the dining room.

But there was another glitch. Medical bills. The birth mom had been in the ICU before and after the birth, and it is agency policy that adoptive families pay the cost of the birth not covered by insurance. She didn't have insurance. And might not get Medicaid. And we won't know for sure for months. Could we pay her medical bills?

I stood in the kitchen and scolded myself for even opening that stupid box of baby things. For getting to my stupid happy place. And I thought, Jesus, why? What on this god-forsaken earth are you doing?! I could feel the rug being ripped out from under us. We couldn't pay. We could barely pay the placement fees, let alone the travel expenses. And the case manager said something to the effect of, "I hate to say no. I hate to let families down, especially when we get so far into it, but if I'm honest, I'm not sure I would be comfortable moving this forward with anyone at this point, just because we don't have a clear view of what the medical bills actually are." And it was comforting. Not comforting to the fact that we were losing this baby, but that it wasn't simply our lack of finances, just the overall unknown. Then I felt so guilty and sad. That little boy is still waiting and how long will he have to wait to go to his forever home? And I wanted to say, "Screw it!! We'll leave now." But I know that would be impossible. And we didn't feel any peace with the medical bills. Once that was an obstacle, we knew it wasn't right for our family. It wouldn't be fair to Bea, it wouldn't be fair to him.

[pause] Let's talk blame. Some people might read this and get mad. "Why would they get your hopes up?!" "How could they do that?" "Why didn't she have insurance if she knew she was pregnant?!" And my response to all those questions and comments is this:

It's not about us. It's not about me. It's about the baby who needs a family and the birthmom who is making the most selfless, self-aware decision of her life -- she is not able to give proper care. They, adoption agencies, don't mean to get our hopes up. It just happens. It's part of what we sign on for because we are parents at heart. They need to find families who can take placement now. This second. Who are willing to step up even without all the details. Because that baby is waiting and every second counts. As far as the insurance or the choices the birthmom makes -- I think it's safe to say that if she had made the all perfect decisions for all of her life she would not be in this situation. And we would not be getting this call. And we pour out grace and mercy and love, rather than anger and judgement. Because none of us is perfect. It's not my place to judge whether or not she has done the responsible thing in the past. It's not about me or what I think or my convenience. We don't know her story or the reasons she has for choosing adoption, or why she waited until the birth. She already has more courage and strength than I could ever hope to gain. No one is to blame, least of all the birthmom. So please, choose grace. Grace. Grace. Abundant grace. [unpause]

So we said our goodbyes. She had our profile on file and would call if anything came up. And I made my way to the bathroom because, in that crushing minute, I just got my period. Thirteen days late and of all days, at the moment I lost my baby boy, it shows up. How...fitting. And I packed up all the baby boxes and shoved them in the spare room.

I called Jason and told him. I put in a movie for the Bea. I made coffee. I did laundry. I fixed my bed. Like a homemaker zombie. I called my mom. She had scrambled at work to get some time off for when we traveled. She said she was still coming down the next day, just because.

For the next two days I was living in a shadow. I would think, I need to pack my diffuser. I need to ask Mom for her luggage, I need to get a new pack of contacts. Then I would remember, No. No, I don't. Because I'm not going anywhere. 

Friday...the day we were supposed to meet our boy.

My mom. Thank the Lord for my mom. She played and played with the Bea. All day Thursday and all day Friday. And I did laundry, ran the dishwasher, cleaned my room...and wept, sobbed, threw things without worry my little girl would see and wonder what Mama was sad-mad about. I lived as an emotionally and physically exhausted, crampy, weepy, shadowy zombie and it was okay.

Saturday we planned to go to an outdoorsman event downtown with Jason's family. And I was happy for the distraction, although being able to go to the event meant we weren't holding our baby. And it was hard to live with that hovering over every moment for the first few days. The future of us had looked different and now it was back to the same, which, don't get wrong, is amazing. I love our little family. I love our life. But man, we were so close. An almost mama zombie walking through the crowds and booths of fishing and hunting equipment.

Jason went that night to visit his grandma and I went to church with the Bea. Probably the most restorative worship I have ever experienced. Is that even a thing? I think so. It should be if it isn't. God sweeping down from heaven and healing part of my heart that felt dead, giving me just enough strength to feel less like a zombie. Reminding me of the purpose I have now, in this little beautiful life we have, not in the shadow of what would have been. God seeing me -- the woman who had a baby she never held, and bleeding. Sometimes we feel forgotten. Okay, a lot of the times. We grieving ones feel forgotten, unseen. And although no one talked to me that evening, and I'm kind of glad for a big church in that way, I felt seen by the Father.

And Sunday...Sunday was good.

ADOPTION IS SO MUCH MORE (part 2)

When we step out in bold faith, when we say YES to God's movement and NO to fear, when we believe in His plan and provision, amazing things can happen.

Adoption is so much more...than bringing a baby home. That in itself is beautiful, amazing, breathtakingly awesome. But there is so much more. The community that surrounds and rallies. The family that grows close. The church that supports. The birth family and foster families being loved on, cherished, encouraged. The moving of our very Lord and Savior through the hearts and minds of family, friends, coworkers, church members, total strangers...to bring this child home, grow this family together!! There is so much more than we could ever dream to see.

 .     .     .     .     .

I wrote this ridiculously long message to a couple in my church who had recently brought home a baby through adoption. And their story is truly beautiful. Believing God when He urged me to reach out, for whatever reason, I prayed and pressed SEND.

In all honesty I was expected and waiting for a polite brush off. This couple was busy. They were settling in with their new baby. They had other children. Careers. Church positions. Would they really have time for us and our story?

After a few minutes I got a response…then another…and a question: Do you have a video to add to your fundraiser?

We didn't. I would have loved to have one. I'm not techy. We don’t have equipment. And the time to edit? Yeah, right. And I'm a perfectionist so some grainy video from our phones wouldn't do. So I had settled on the realization that we weren't going to have a video and I was okay with that.

So our new friend says, "That's exactly what I was hoping you would say. I have my our production company and I would love to make a video for your fundraiser."

Instantly tears are streaming.

I could barely make out the words to the good man. God had answered so many prayers in that one little sentence, some I hadn't even prayed yet. And did this new friend know that behind the screen across town he had changed our life, our journey, strengthened our faith, with this string of words?

There are simple moments in the adoption journey, or any journey of calling by God, where He reaches through heaven and the sky right into the very air you are breathing and you FEEL Him. You know, without a doubt, total certainty, He is here. And He is real. And HE is making this happen. God just stepped down out of heaven and dumped this amazing, unbelievable miracle on us and I was undone.

Within a few short days our new friend entered our little home with his camera equipment and recorded our story. He encouraged us, worked with us, comforted and gave guidance. It was the most wonderful experience. Another simple moment when God brings people together for His purposes, especially for the adoption of a child, who would maybe never have sat together at the same table. Never am I more aware of His working around us than I am in the middle of an adoption journey. I seriously had to keep myself from thinking these very things as we worked…because really I would have been bawling the entire time! I'm crying right now as I type this!

And what have I learned through this amazing experience?

1. Step out with courageous faith. My fears were unfounded. They seemed real. And that's exactly what the enemy wanted me to think. Step out in courageous faith in God, in others, and in His working in their lives. It seems scary and awkward and silly and weird. But in our weakest moments, the most awkward encounters, if we move when He asks He will honor that.  

2. God is working, let Him work. I can't know the end, sometimes not even the middle, but I do know when God urges me to move and I ought to do so boldly, with courage, knowing that He is the one who spoke the universe into motion, He will work in my efforts. My only job here is to follow His lead. It's not to know the ins and outs of the calling I have been given, or the urge I receive. But to follow. And try to follow bravely. There is no shame in weakness or doubt. Those are opportunities for Him to surprise us and bless us immensely.

3. Assumption is robbery. My fears of rejection or brush off assume the worst in another person. I have essentially written them off, not allowing them the opportunity to show their kindness and be used by God.  I know nothing about them yet, because of my fear I I assume the worst. I need to see people as God sees them -- vessels of blessing, comfort, encouragement, wisdom, and loved by Him -- a middle man for His working in my life. Had I caved and deleted my message we would not have made new friends in our adoption journey…and I would have robbed our new friends of the opportunity to bless us as they have. When God tells you to move…MOVE. And I would have said NO to this amazing and beautiful chapter in our adoption story. And oh my goodness…I would have been completely WRONG! Dave and Sarah are the most caring and kind people in the world!! I am not letting fear get the best of me ever again…er, I'm going to try my darnedest! 

4. The Church is His jam. I am in awe of this church family we have. It's difficult in a large church sometimes, most of the time. And I was scared to death when I walked in the big doors to this big tidal wave of people. And it's been nothing but blessing after blessing. I am so proud to say I belong to a church that rallies for adoption, that supports adoption, that cherishes children who have been adopted and their forever families. More and more I firmly believe that God is using His church, this church, to speak His love and power in their lives, our lives. On occasion He has used strangers, community members, family, old friends...but more often than not He is using this church community, this village of Christ-followers to love on us, support us, and encourage us.

.     .     .     .     .

We are incredibly grateful for our friends Dave and Sarah who have so generously and graciously blessed us with this amazing video. It is truly beyond all we could ask or imagine. What a beautiful way to be used as His hands and feet. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts. Truly.

ADOPTION IS SO MUCH MORE

I don't like asking for help. It is completely against my nature to put myself out there. I'd much rather never ask than face rejection. And I'm pretty small in stature so I spent my younger years hiding behind others. In elementary, even in high school, when my teacher would ask a question I would hunch down low behind the person in front of me and never had to answer, even when I almost always knew the answer. In gym class I would find a taller classmate and be their shadow until dodgeball was over. The only situations in which this well-practiced method of hiding would back fire are when my front row friend was home sick...or the person I picked for dodging dodgeball was unexpectedly good and...I ended up being the LAST person on my team. Eight foam balls flung at me and I lost us the game. Figures.

I think adoption is so much bigger than bringing a child into a family. It is so much more. I think God uses adoption to speak to hearts, show His power, faithfulness, provision. God changes people and works miracles -- all behind the scenes. We see a baby or child welcomed home, and that is incredibly amazing in itself! But we don't see all that happened in the background to get this family to this moment. The most surprising thing about adoption and the entire journey through the adoption process, is how it changed and continues to change me. All the bending, breaking, mending, learning, healing, leaning, courage, boldness, bravery, strength, the moments of defeat that made joy more complete. Adoption is so much more.

Through my struggle of infertility I discovered I had a voice. In the most isolating, excruciating struggle of my life, I found I had something to say and I didn't care if it wasn't fluffy or shiny. Through our adoption journeys I've discovered I can be brave. There's a boldness and courage that I honestly didn't know existed. In a few short months I went from meekly leaving polite messages and waiting for phone calls to demanding updates, I've faced the feelings of judgment in the home study phase, the asking and waiting in fundraising,  stood tall before judges and pleaded our case. It doesn't seem like much. And honestly as I type this I'm thinking it's a little ridiculous that I take some ounce of pride over these things. But I flashback to ten years ago, even two years ago, and remember that this person is a far cry from the professional hider in school.

And in this newest adoption journey God is not done bringing out the courage and brave and strength and might, I guess. Challenging me, changing me, shaping and molding and bending and breaking. Mending. I wrestle against it, but I want to be the mom my kids will need. And if He is saying I need to be bolder, braver, stronger, louder…then I will be. I can be a fighter.

With this newfound resolve God is stretching me...

Last week, while trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep, a simple idea came to mind. A wild thought crept out of the fog and it would not let up. This, half-asleep/half-awake place, is where He speaks to me most. Not in audible voices with direct messages, but in inclinations, seemingly crazy ideas, sleeplessness leading to prayer. Not every night. Not all the time. Mostly I think about rearranging the furniture, but sometimes God likes to use these quiet, restful moments to get my attention.

All day long I'm thinking this crazy thing and pushing it aside, only to have it creep back in. Come on! And then I had another wild thought, maybe this idea isn't mine, but His?

So I took a deep breath, prayed for courage, pleaded for bravery, the right words, boldness, humility, and that He would work in this crazy wild idea.

And you know, the reason this seemed so out there, farfetched, it's ridiculous. I know this. I have kicked myself for even thinking it crazy. But I couldn't help it. I was afraid of rejection, of the brush off, of annoying, or even being misunderstood.

Fear makes us irrational. And when we bend to fear we can miss out on some amazing awesome things God had planned for us. When the thing I fear seems more daunting than God's power is awesome, I tend to buckle and back down.

What I've learned from this adoption journey is to dig in, stand tall, and trust that God will open doors, soften hearts, and provide. Sometimes it's a little baby step, sometimes it feels like a freefalling off a cliff backwards. Fully believing, because we have no reason to doubt -- God is all about adoption and will not let anything stand between a child and his or her forever family.

So I scribbled an awkward message and sent it late at night to this pretty sweet couple that I have never met who had their our adoption fundraising to worry about and who happened to be well connected...and had recently gone viral.

Basically, "You don't know me but we're adopting. Would you please share our story?"

And then the most incredible thing happened...

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