The Single Most Moments

The last two weeks, like the weeks before, have been a rollercoaster.  It seems that just when good news, or any news at all of movement, reaches our ears news of a new possible obstacle comes into the other ear. I told the good man that I feel like mountains are sprouting up all around us. And in the moments of no new obstacles, no new mountains there is silence. I am emailing a brick wall.

But before we get into all the mess and aggravation of this journey…lets rejoice over the wonder and miracle and the beauty and the best week of our lives thus far.

. : The First Visit : .

Two weeks ago, on the late evening of February 17th, we packed up the car and headed south on mostly vacant winter roads. We are forever grateful for Bean and her husband Eric for the great distraction they offered us over the weekend before we made the trek south. Eric and Bean came down for a visit, their first getaway since starting their new life together. We had a wonderful time playing games, eating good food, and being distracted from the impending visit.  I know that without this weekend of fun and family  the good man and I would have been complete wrecks, just waiting with each other and nothing to do.

So there we were, just the two of us, headed into the dark and unknown. We’ve been here on this road before, headed to Colorado, back to school, a new chapter. But this, this was different. This was like nothing else. Driving down to meet our little girl for the first time -- completely herself grown and personality formed away and separate from us! And how many parents can say they've taken this trip? We passed truckers and families traveling, people going to work…and I couldn't help but think, How many times have I traveled this road? Hundreds. And have we ever passed a couple making the same pilgrimage? God forgive me for not seeing them. For not offering them a cup of coffee. If nothing else, this journey has taught me you never know. You never know the story of the person in the car beside you. And to offer grace, shovel grace, to be kind because your everyday could be their life changing day.

As morning broke my heart skipped beats again and again. The sun had never looked so bright. The air had never smelled quite so fresh. Newness. We could feel the change in the air, the very tilting of the earth. We entered the city, her hometown. This was a day to remember. And as we ordered our breakfast, I wondered how the people around me were going about their day like nothing amazing, life changing, magnificent was happening today?? And how many times have I gone about my day like any other while that particular day change the course of life for another? How little we think of those around us. How blind am I?

After a trip to the mall, a drive around town, and lunch, we finally checked into our room with enough time for me to run a brush through my hair, change my shirt, and put on deodorant. If there had been time to be upset, I would have been Momzilla. This was not the plan, to meet our little girl without a shower, fresh makeup, and a clean face. But no, there wasn't time to get ready or to get mad. We were clicking in our seat belts and headed toward

The Single Most Defining Moment of Our Lives.

We found the DHS office where our first visit would take place. We took deep breaths together before walking  up the sidewalk. The good man grabbed my hand tight and grounded me. I was in management mode. Managing my breathing, my walking, my every expression. Just to make sure I didn't fall apart from nerves. He opened the door and the super friendly security guard greeted us, thankful for his smile. And as we stood, shifting our feet together, the good man tapped me on the shoulder and nodded to his right. And there….right there next to me sitting backward on a chair was the most beautiful face I had ever seen. Everything in that room fell away. It sounds cheesy and cliché, but oh-so true. Perfect cuteness. Perfect dark brown hair with bouncing curls and big brown eyes. And that was it. I was undone. I was determined. I was focused. She had me for the rest of my life. With one look. My heart opened wide all the nooks and crannies, corners and hidden places. There was no turning back now. And I knew in that moment that she would be mine for the rest of my life even if this all went sideways and all we got with her was this short week. She would always be mine. i was undone with one look. 

And I had to turn away before the tears started streaming then and there in that DHS lobby. Tears of joy -- for this is the the daughter we have loved and prayed for for nearly two years, her specifically, and she is sitting next to me. Finally. Tears of sorrow and weight -- because she is so close and so far away, I can't hug her, I can't pick her little self up into my arms. She doesn't even know who I am. Yet. He grabbed my hand again and squeezed strength into my soul. And as we sat down to wait the good man whispered our hearts' prayer into my ear. We were crying out to the Father together in that room.

Our names were called and I put face to the voice who called on the phone for weeks and weeks. The social worker and I was shaking. This is the moment. She took us into a room with a window to look into the room with HER. And we will call her Sweet Girl. The social worker talked about her and told us what would happen. And I choked back tears. This moment. The moment we meet our daughter. This only happens once. And finally, FINALLY, we are here. We walked around the corner and walked into the room. The first word I said to her, our little sweet girl, was "Hi." And the first word she said to me was "Two." She was two years old. We read books and the good man made her giggle with monkey noises. She traced my hand with pen and paper and we made it into a turkey. We played with a ball and colored pictures. And it was the most magical two hours of our lives together. And also the most awkward first meeting of our child we could have never imagined. We left for the hotel and were floating.

Over the next few days we would spend a total of 20 hours with our sweet girl and loved every minute. We played at the park, flew a kite, played with bubbles, fed some geese, played at the PlayPlace, went to the hotel to read every book we brought in less than 30 minutes. (The good man finally agrees we need more books, to which I replied, "You can never have too many books!") We played with playdough, colored a birdhouse, read more books, went bowling, played at the park more, took a nap (She cuddled up to me and fell right asleep at the hotel and my heart melted!). We also went to the Science Museum, the library, and ate at the most amazing cupcake shop in the world.

We were told she is a little uneasy about men. So the fact that she runs to the good man, lets him pick her up, giggles with him, and likes to play games with him at the park is a good sign for us.

And how can I explain to you how this has changed me? Changed me, yes, and still not quite. At peace. Brought out something within me that I never knew existed. Finally knowing and understanding what it is to be content. With this girl laughing and smiling and giggling in my arms I have felt . :completely myself: . I did not know it was possible to feel this way. Not to say that this completes me, that she fixes what was broken or hurt, that she makes we whole because that is not her job. She has no job. And also not to say that my life with the good man had been incomplete or less. Just that…I know now that motherhood is my life's calling, this is my purpose. This is what God has made me to do. And to be doing what you were made to do…there is no better feeling. I didn't care that my hair was messy, that I was smiling like a fool. I didn't care what others thought of me, if I was being too goofy or silly. I wasn’t trying or forcing it, I didn't feel awkward or uncertain. And maybe I was just to full of joy to remember those parts. I don't care. And I know that motherhood is not all giggles and smiles. But in these moments, I felt whole, content, at peace, knowing. To be doing what you were called to do, purposed to do, there is no better feeling.

And the single most heartbreaking moment finally, inevitably, came.

We dropped her off with her foster father for the last time that week. She hugged us goodbye and we took the most difficult steps of our lives. We turned away, walked away, and drove away. Drove home without our daughter. My heart was bleeding every mile. We got home to our home, unbelievably empty and impossibly quiet. And it was as if the last week was a dream. We had to talk about her to make it real, real in this world we live in day to day and not just real in her world, in her town. We had to talk about her even though every word tore at my soul. Every word a tear fell and I just could not believe that we had left her, that we came home without her. Home is not home anymore. Not without her. I know we had to but I just can't believe this page of the story.

And now…we are counting the days, the hours, until we see her again. In two short and impossibly long weeks I will see her most beautiful face again. And sadly, the good man will stay home to work. And I will again hold her and smile with her and play with her and read with her and say goodbye to her and drive away home. And my heart will bleed with every mile.

We know that just as God has placed her in our lives almost two years ago, with the first phone call, that he had not kept her in our lives only to have her leave us forever. We know that he will work it all out, in his time and his way. We trust that she will one day be riding home with us. And home will be home again with her. We know and believe this. But we do need your prayers. There are many details that need to be worked out, many people involved -- and not all are helpful. I have not talked to the social worker in the last two weeks, since the visit, which is a little disconcerting. I have basically been emailing into the void about questions and concerns and updates. We're trying to make final plans for the next visit at the end of the month, or at least I am, because no one is responding to me. Maybe this is a lesson in trust and surrender. So I am learning to trust and believe that God is working out all the details behind the scenes, working in hearts and minds, softening hearts, and working out the paperwork, the details. And I may not see it, but I can know he is active and faithful.

And if, IF, bringing her home is not His plan, because I do not know his infinite ways, I know we will see her again. Somewhere, somehow and I will tell her I had loved her from the start, and she had me with one look. 

I can't tell you specifics, but please pray for every step of this process, for everyone involved -- social workers, the foster parents, judges, for this sweet girl, and for us. Pray that the family is blessed and that God would work in their lives, that this little one would be protected and grow stronger each day, that she would remember me and all that we did. That she would adjust well to this new transition and be protected from anything negative from this new situation. Pray for us, that we would have faith, trust in the Father to work out the details, that we would be able to find and see the joy given on this journey.  Pray also that God would work financially. We are cutting into our post-placement money raised to work out these cross country visits. It's a little worrisome, but I know that He will provide more than we need, when we need it, just as He has before. And pray too that the Lord would prepare us and equip us for the chapters that lie ahead. That we would be grateful and praise Him for whatever He brings and gives, knowing all is in His grace. 

A Grand Adventure

In glancing over my most recent posts I find myself a tad unemotional. And perhaps so have you. Maybe I'm being hard on myself. This whole process has taken me through the wringer emotionally and sometimes (okay, maybe a lot of the time) I hold it in. Smiles, tears, anger. I hold it in, tight like it's the last few cents to my name. And it a way it is -- bits myself and I can't afford to lose anymore. 

And it could be that I process everything internally for a good few days before I write about the feel of it. So there is a lag time, which is probably for the better, as I like to use kind words and share joy rather than raw frustration and anger. 

But here's a little more of myself.

I spend a bit of my time each day in the bedroom set up especially for a specific child in mind. I can't believe we've gotten to this point! And I touch the toys, run my fingers over the pages of the books chosen with care over, what seems like, a lifetime, and squeeze the stuffed animals. And I smile a smile I wish I could capture on film. Yes, film. Real, touch with your hands, film. Because this is suddenly becoming real. These toys will be loved. These books will be read. This bed will be slept in. There will be little toes and little hands and wide eyes ready for adventure. My heart jumps!! I can almost smell it. Dreams cracking into reality. 

And I cry. Tears so full. Because some days the wait is just too much to bear. I wonder if we'll ever get there. Some days the emptiness of this room, these arms, weighs too heavy. I work, hard, to count the joy. And maybe each day is made both easier and harder because we know the little one for whom we wait and prepare. She is out there, right now, playing eating smiling laughing crying. And I smile at the thought of her and my heart breaks a little more for the ache and waiting. Yes, that smile with raw joy and sorrow. 

I find it easier to talk about her with family as if the possibility is way off. The pages of the mental calendar are stretched to great distances in my mind. Because if it's far off, and if IF it doesn't happen, it was never within my grasp in the first place. Less loss felt? Maybe not logical, certainly not less loss at all. But this is how I cope. This is how I live both present, and emotionally contained. Because one cannot run errands and bawl without looking like a mad woman. And nothing gets done so well with tears and snot in the way. So I cope. And more than cope. I hunt for joy, count joy, share joy, and hopefully grow a little bit here and there.

If there was only one thing infertility has taught me it is this: There comes a time in any experience with grief and loss that one must get back to the living -- living, real people. living a life. the simple daily tasks of living. How? I have no idea. It doesn't hurt less but we've got to keep moving, simply because...we must. And however you can is good enough for the now. So I'm not too hard on myself for seeming detached or matter of fact. But I do understand it might seem weird to others.  Grace. shovel grace on me. I have learned to heave grace on others -- the hard and heavy, and fluffy light. The hurting, the angry, the misunderstanding, the ill-informed. Just pile on the grace. 

And now to. . .

. : The GRAND ADVENTURE : .

Something magical is happening pretty soon. And when I'm alone and speak it out loud, without the holding it together, without the coping, without restraint or care for the tears, I dance. 

The good man and I are going to visit our little girl!!

In a few weeks we travel to her hometown and will meet her, get to know her, play with her, hold her, hear her laughter, and see her beautiful face!! We can hardly contain our joy and excitement. We are not sure how the visits will go, how much time we will have, or what's going to happen at all. But we are going! And that's all that matters, that's all I can think about. And God help us when we come home. 

We could really use your prayers. We are preparing for a long trip and have virtually no idea what will happen. We're hoping and praying to meet the foster parents, to visit with the social workers and have at least one unsupervised visit. We could use your prayers as we head down and as we come back home again leaving to continue the wait. 

Thank you for your continued support and prayers as we make our way through this adoption journey. We are grateful to have such a wonderful community around us, our village, who love adoption as much as we do. 

We are hoping that our travel costs will be reimbursed. We think it's best to go for at least one visit, but financially, we hope we aren't stretched. We have complete faith that God will provide for this little family spread out so far. But if you do think of us and feel called to help, or if you have been looking for our fundraising website and noticed it completed, I started a new fundraiser. Go to the link listed to the right. And again, as always, we appreciate every bit. Pennies and more. And prayer.  Yes, prayer is always accepted, treasured, and the best.

. : T H A N K : Y O U : . {again and again}

I don't even know how to begin this post. So much love shared and felt...showered on and stood in awe. Undeserved kindness and support, mountains moved and a village made.

When we took the leap onto this path, hand in hand facing unknown and giants, we had no idea the wonderful, beautiful we would encounter, even in the darkest corners and deepest forest.

And amazingly...

HOME STUDY PAID

and what's more?

  

we are

  

 HOME STUDY APPROVED

.     .     .     .     .

Can we just take this moment to scream and cheer and cry and faint because, people, this is HUGE! And I am breathing a lot easier these days...

Family, friends -- new and old, friends of friends I've never met, and complete strangers who stumbled upon us and our story: we could not have done it without you. All of you. From the penny found in the driveway to the first and most mind-blowing donation -- each stops my heart and roots my belief deeper and deeper that adoption is a community event.

We didn't know what we were doing when we started and adoption fundraiser. Really. We wondered if anyone would respond. We wondered if people might think us rude, or at least inappropriate, to air our "private" business and have the audacity to mention money. I was seriously scared, with no idea what might happen.

But as I filled out the application and shared my dreams of fundraising, I felt a sense of urgency and the weight of truth:

We, children of God, have all been adopted. And as believers we all can relate to the orphan, alone and forgotten, the need for family. And the fact of our adoption only brings to light the fact that adoption is God's plan.

And all this trinkled down to reassure me, bring me hope -- when there is an orphan, a child in need...they will come. The village will surround.

To  simply say that the village did surround is a gross understatement. The village, YOU, did more than surround. You encouraged every day, supported every step, cheered every victory, even the small; groaned with us when we needed to vent, and gave comfort when we were all but defeated. You offered your time, your projects and even opened your homes! And you prayed. You PRAYED. And we are still in disbelief of the miracles seen last fall. 

Together. we + you = completed a home study, raised enough to completely cover the cost of it all, PLUS the post placement visits!

Thank you, those two simple words, seem to be less than enough. I want to hug each of you, bring you a favorite drink, jump up and down with you all! Thank you. THANK YOU!! We are so grateful for you and none of this could have happened without you!!

I wrestled with the idea of sharing the breakdown of raised funds. Is it appropriate? Is it bragging? Is it too personal? But you know what, I don't care about all that. As we said when we started out on this journey, you are all apart of bringing this family together. And we want you to see what you have so generously and selflessly, cheerfully accomplished!

 Funds Raised                                                   Adoption Fees

Online Fundraiser      $1585                       Home Study    $3000

Checks in mail              450                 Background Studies   140

Photography                 265              Post Placement Visits  1400
Bird Bath Sales             225                          Total:        $4540
Garage Sale #1            1751
Garage Sale #2              350
               Total:      $4626

Can I just tell you that, honestly, I thought we might raise...$1000?

We raised 4 times that. I am still spinning. 

So there it is: the majorly-overdue-awesome-news-filled update. With the home study completed and approved, and paid for, we are onto the waiting. People call it the fun part, but as a large portion of my adult life has been spent waiting, I'm not entirely thrilled by it. 

I am thrilled to be onto the next adventure our Good and Great Father has in mind for us. 

If you are still interesting in helping us out as we get closer to bringing our family together, we are continuing to use GiveForward to raise funds for travel expenses, when the time comes. Our new fundraiser page is here. 

Thanks for reading, as always...
and thanks again for all your prayers, support, and encouragement.

Big Little Steps

We packed the cars again and shoved, with great effort, the doors closed. Filled to the brim with items donated by family and friends, new for this next sale, or leftover from the last. With large items loaded into a truck bed, borrowed from a friend. We have been blessed with great friends. This we are learning well and ever grateful. And we, with our loot and stickers and tape and markers and hangers, pull out onto the road. A caravan. Convoy. Train headed to great possibilities.

There is a constant nervousness about me these days. Not really anxiety. Not really worry, not really even nervousness. A kind of tickle...excitement, bubbling joy, trinkling fear of the unknown and unexpected, mixed with worry that somehow it will all be for nothing, and anticipation for the wonderful good adventure ahead...How can all of that be anything but a tickle? Head to long skinny toes.

So we head down the road and with every white dash passing on the black tar, with every breath I take, a prayer: "God, work in this. God, go before us. God, bring out the right people at the right time for the right item for the right reason...just bring them. And remind me this is all for them; for You, and them."

We pull into the driveway of a house I have never seen, belonging to a couple I have never met. And as I walk up the drive to wave to Andrea, my dear friend, her mom wraps me in a warm hug even before we are introduced. Diane and her husband Brian have willingly, graciously, joyfully offered us the use of their garage for our second and final sale. And from that moment on we have been doted upon, humbled, and just showered with love and kindness, not only from this wonderful family, but also their neighbors. Tables offered freely, neighbors helping along the way. Everyone excited and encouraging and just amazingly perfect. I have been amazed and am still in awe!



We, the six of us, dig through box after box, bag after bag -- organized and priced countless items -- into dusk and beyond. And honestly I felt that we were getting no where. It was a serious mess, not their garage, but the things we brought. Just so much in too many piles. So we broke for pizza!

And we shared a great meal together in this warm, welcoming home with these wonderful people who we did not know six months ago, who are now a huge part of our adoption story. I sat back and smiled. God is so good. All the time. And after a bit more work, wouldn't you know it? The garage looked amazing and we closed the door. A communal, grateful sigh. And the good man and I headed home, hand in hand in silent and vocal prayer.

.        .        .        .        .

I stayed up too late and woke up too early and, with great need of coffee, headed out into the chilly autumn air with simple anticipations of seeing God in amazing ways. And I'm not just saying that. I prayed and prayed and sang and talked out loud to myself -- if only I see God work, if only I see Him...I will be more than grateful no matter the outcome of the sale. So I prayed for courage and contentment. And it echoed again, those verses that have been with me since the very first steps of this journey -- in the early inkling of something amazing, and in whispers of adoption: 

{Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid. The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. }

So I did what I do, not best, but what I have learned to do in the most daunting moments: I pulled up my bootstraps and became the determined crazy woman. And oh, yes I did.

While still dark, I walked with signs and hammer in hand to the prime sign locations and pounded them in. And when the first set of signs was securely placed, I began to run back across the overpass...in the dark...by myself...with a hammer...and laughed out loud! Because I really did become that determined crazy woman, wild hair, hammer and all! And I was no longer afraid, because really, who's going to mess with a wild woman wielding a hammer before sunrise?

So after that little show, I decided that, YES, I was in extreme need of coffee. I pulled into Dunn Bros and realized I pulled in the wrong way. *sigh* I drove around the building and waited in the now existing line. Ordered. Prayed. And pulled to the window. The chipper barista handed me my drink with a huge smile. I offered my card and she waved it away, "The person in front of you paid for your drink!" And I wanted to cry. I just wanted to melt and cry. Early morning kindness on another day I'm pulling up the straps. Oh, yes. I was going to see good things.

.        .        .        .        .

And...a couple hours later the good things were coming in the form of cloudy skies, sprinkling rain, biting wind, and fallen signs. It was 50 degrees and I was freezing. My hot coffee long gone and no one to send to fix the signs, I walked down the street and hoped to make it right. Again, the crazy lady with the hammer. And in those small moments of, "what the heck am I doing? We're never going to get anywhere with this," I remember that each freezing, tiring moment is for them. And if someone actually told me I would have to endure this cold, wet day a thousand times to have my babies, I would. In a heartbeat. And I remember He will show up. And to have courage.

.        .        .        .        .

As the day warmed up, slightly, shoppers arrived and most found at least one thing to purchase. Andrea stopped by and brought me lunch. Love. I went to get ones and some more coffee and returned to find Adele, my newest adoption friend! And she stayed to chat for a long while. More love. A friend of a friend stopped by. Small world. The good man came from work and brought warm hugs. True love and best friend. He fixed the signs and made me smile.

I did see God working in amazing and unexpected ways: early morning breakfast with Diane and a great chat about adoption. The excited smiles of strangers when listening to our story. Lunch with a new friend. A visit with a new friend. And really, just knowing that all this -- the rain, the sun, the big bills, the small change, the cold, the warmth -- is for them, our babies. And they are so worth it.

And with $176 added to our adoption fund, we closed shop. 

At home, I rested deep wrapped in His love, and his. 

.        .        .        .        .

The next morning, with the good man by my side, I opened the sale again. Signs up and sturdy, friends showing up early. The sun started to peek out bright and warm. It was looking like the beginning of something good, great even. 

Diane offered waffles and coffee, naturally, because she is just wonderful like that. And I have to get better at letting others care of me, be kind to me, love on me through wonderful kind acts and generosity. My stubbornness gets in the way, as does my fear of being in the way.

We spent the morning chatting with our friends, Andrea and Ryan. I passed on my love of knitting to my new friend and we counted time in purls and knits. We laughed loud and often and I find my joy overflowing. 

More new friends stopped by. Another couple adopting we met at our amazing adoption group. We have been showered in friends and supporters and I can hardly believe it. Friends in small group. Friends from long ago. Friends newly found on a shared road to parenthood. And I have to be better at showing these friends how truly important, vital, and cherished they are. 

At the end of the day we gathered up the things unbought and brought them to Goodwill. We kept some goodies that might do well at a silent auction. We hugged our friends and headed home. 

God works in amazing ways. In the very beginning of this journey I attended a MOPS meeting with some friends. Yes, me, that's right. And at the meeting an adoptive mom said something to the effect of "You will never see God working so vividly and evidently as when you are in the middle of an adoption journey." And I completely believe that. He shows up in the most bold and amazing ways, and gentle, quiet ease. The first sale was an explosion of people and funds. Like nothing I have ever seen before. The second sale was an explosion of love and friends and a constant flow of the Father's steadfast love, strength and courage. As if to say, "Even when the numbers are not overflowing, I've got it." 

And please do not misunderstand. I am equally excited and grateful and overjoyed by each individual sale. Each was perfect and amazing, by their own right. And God worked amazingly through each. Diane said it perfectly: Each big little step. 

And each is a wonderful part of this unexpected journey. 

.        .        .        .        .

GARAGE SALE: Metro Edition Total: $340

Total Raised To Date: $4071

.        .        .        .        .

We are less than $1000 away from meeting our first goal of $5000!! 

I know that God will push us through to the finish line and all it takes is a few willing hearts -- people who are passionate about children finding homes, people who desire to be involved in an adoption, or just people wanting to help out any way they can! I know our Heavenly Father has them marked and knows their purpose. I just can't wait to see how it all comes together!

I am still in shock! We officially started our fundraising adventure in August and not even two months later we are already so close! This little writer is fighting for the right words. We are overwhelmed, feeling so loved, and truly to believe that each one of you is just as excited to see our little ones come home. What an amazing day that will be!! 

Our funds have been raised, not only through garage sales, but also through...

     - generous gifts on our fundraising websites: giveforward, youcaring

     - through our friends at Chastanet Photography

     - sweat, blood and tears of my mom as she makes and sells birdbaths

     - and simple donations from friends and friends of friends through the mail! 

.        .        .        .        .

THANK YOU to everyone who donated, visited, gave extra, shared on facebook, told your friends, and supported us in spirit, prayed, helped and rooted for us from the beginning. 

A very special THANK YOU to our new friends, Andrea & Ryan Chastanet and Brian & Diane Wheeler, for whom we are forever grateful. Thank you for letting us use your garage, for welcoming us into your home, for supporting us as complete strangers and now friends, and for helping us haul our massive loads all over town! 

A few more wonderful friends who have helped us along the way...

Laura & Joel Boyd

Alex Boyd

Kristin Boyd

Lindsey Brimmer
Sue & Dan Skalicky
Liza & Aaron Skalicky

Robin Gunnerson & Girls

Audrey 

Olivemae Gebhart

Leslie Beckrich

Cindy Stapleton

Tammy Ranso

Marilyn Isaac

Linda Hagen

Nancy Grossman

Carry Hopkins

Tom & Barb Adams

Joyce Sjostrand

Shelly Lambert

Amanda Butterfield

Sandy Hubbart

Naomi Hoard
Gina Batchellor
Bree Fellows
Adele Yong Schultz
Carey & Michael Granica
Jamie Street
.     .     .     .     .

There are many others who have helped in the background by quietly sharing and spreading the word, and those who have helped anonymously. If I forgot to mention you, please forgive me. In this whirlwind of a week it has been hard to keep track of my laundry let alone the details of this experience. 

Waiting for You and...Nesting?

Before you read on...

Some prayer requests:

 - the mountain of paperwork to climb and complete for the home study (post about this coming your way soon)

 - the mountain of paperwork to complete for the mortgage approval

 - two more home study visits

 -for our future children and their birth families. For whatever reason, circumstance, or situation they will come into our lives and home forever. Pray for protection, comfort, adjustments, and that the Father may use this difficult time for good and His glory.

.     .     .     .     .

There have been some changes taking place and I'm not entirely sure how to explain them. A change of reference? A change in perspective? A change in heart? All of these and something more.

The good man and I filled the forms and licked the seals, dropped the package in the slot with a prayer. For a child, a family, a little one waiting. A nerve-wracking task -- lay it all bare before another to be weighed and measured as parents, when teen moms are on primetime and daytime talk shows. And I wondered, how could this be fair? And it's not.

Last bits of hope for more in our nest packed neatly and crisply in manila and love. It echoes a thud as it hits, and the heaviness is more than apparent to us. This is it. The moment. It's all come to this, the beginning of an adventure or the beginning of the end. Hands held together, linked and clasped with fingers intertwined -- a most natural movement now carries so much more -- comfort, unity, strength and courage and we hold tight to each other, hold up the other, and nod together. It's done. And it's all up to them, to Him.

.     .     .     .     .

Days later and I am deep in the valley. Aching and longing and hoping again, useless hopes of two blue lines, a plus sign or a happy face on that stupid stick. And again, I am disappointed. Yes, we chose adoption. Yes, we chose it long ago, but the realization that this is it, our trying is over, is hitting hard and it won't quit. I've battled it over and over again. We could keep it up, this charting and trying and taking temps and eating all the right things (can't there just be one fertility diet plan? No, there are hundreds, of course) and struggling and working so hard for that perfect moment when the heavens open and the time is right and the earth is spinning at just the right speed and the air is just the right temperature….and finally…

We could keep doing it, again and again, but we decided enough was enough. Enough stress and worry and regret and blaming and shame and tiredness. Enough. Besides, we're buying a house and completing an adoption, isn't that enough to juggle already? And I'm tired. It would be nice to just hang out and not count days and let a stupid piece of graph paper rule our time together!

So we stop. And focus on adoption. And I am mourning, because it is a loss. For the time being I give up hopes and dreams of that coveted swollen belly and maternity pics, the family all gathered in the waiting room and ultrasound pics, baby showers without awkward encounters because I am normal, just like one of the others. I'm giving up the life we expected, the story we expected.

And I am saying goodbye to what could have been. These children who would be created out of us, our love, our stories, our selves -- our eyes and noses and toes and smiles and ears and everything parents look for when they first unwrap the wriggling new life set in their hands. We're giving that up. And will I always wonder, "Who would they have been? What would they look like?" I am relieved the pressure of perfection is gone, but grieving the loss of the expected, the could have been, the what if of our children. Will I always wonder, "Could we have tried harder?" I wrap my arms around my empty womb, flat stomach that I hate so much, and try to imagine a life inside. Feet pushing and kicking and turning. Hiccups bouncing and making us all giggle. And it is sad. Sad to think that something so natural, so easy and normal, so ingrained in the circle of life, this something I will only ever watch before me, and never experience. And I mourn that. I cry until the heaves stop and the tears are dry. And I am done crying. There is a new path to forge, a new adventure waiting and I don't want to wish it any different.

.     .     .     .     .

Weeks later, the process officially begun. Application accepted. We are both not surprised and surprised. I guess hopes soar with elation as if surprised when the first of many mountain tops has been reached and survived. You knew you could do the work and make the climb and take the time to breathe and rest and make the trek, but knowing these things change little the fact that you celebrate with honest, unashamed, unabashed excitement when it's complete. Celebrate like a fool. And you just don't care. So we celebrated good and long with dinner and some of the best, and most hopeful conversation we've ever had -- finally relaxing and allowing a little talk of dreams of the future with children. Sheer joy to dig out and dust off the long lost hopes and expectations from years past, from different lives. Finally.

I am doing the simple, the ordinary -- picking up the well worn clothes of the week and counting quarters, two loads in -- and it crashes over. Mighty and quick and strong and I am taken aback. Tidal wave, earthquake, tsunami all at once. And I am not quite sure what it is or what to make of it. All I know is for the first time, and how do I explain this to you?: These babies are MY babies.

These little ones we wait for and long for I now know are mine. Does that make since? Haven't even laid eyes on or heard a name, yet I know in my heart they are mine. And I burst into tears.

For so long I cried one cry -- of despair and hopelessness mingled with weary and tired. And now…I don't know what this is! I cry and it is lit, this flame blazing, unstoppable. Suddenly I will move mountains, I will fill out a million papers, I will be the fool, stark raving mad if it helps this process along. I will jump through hoops of burning flames and land into a pit of lions. I am that woman who lifts a car. I am that woman who takes a bullet.

I pick up a sock and think simply to myself with a guarded smile, one of these days his socks won't be the only socks I gather up. I think this simple thought, this dream and it is at that very moment, steps closer to reality, and my heart overflows. I mean, how silly and simple and common is that? "There will be more socks." But it is in the imagining of little feet that fill the socks, and where those little feet wander, and what adventures they wander into…the little toes I will kiss goodnight and tickle good morning. The little feet.

.     .     .     .     .

When does one become a mother? A father? Is it in that moment of fists gripping and teeth clenched tight, when the wriggling new life comes into the light and the joy is on everyone's faces? Is it in that moment when two blue lines appear and what has been created in secret is finally known? Is it in those first few days of sleeplessness, sacrifice and baby cries? Is it with the first kissed boo-boo or the first time out?

I became a mother in that moment of socks and dreams and hoping and praying.  And woe to anyone who gets in my way. And I wonder, as tears puddle and spill over my cheeks, Where are my babies? What is happening to them? How did they get where they are? Where are those little feet wandering?Are they hungry? Warm? Do they know love? And I am angry for what may happen to them for them to be brought to me. Because, if they are in foster care and waiting for a forever home…we know something happened. I am scared for them. And I want to know what and beat someone up! 

The process is now no longer about approval or weighs and measures. It's about bringing my babies home. My babies.  No longer is this about applying for a child, but rather a step to getting our child. No longer are we adopting another's children, we are finally bringing home our little ones. Because if God planned this all out and made the things Satan meant for evil into good, if God was really here all along, these little ones we adopt were always the ones we were meant to have. These are our little ones. There are our babies! (Birth mothers and birth families are important and I will address my thoughts this later, just in case you are wondering. Yes, they are extremely important.)

And suddenly the paperwork is not daunting. The process is not tiring. The finances are not towering. I will do anything to bring my babies home. I will do more than climb mountains, I will move them. And if God had this all planned out, and He does, He's with me. He's with them. And because the future is His, He's already there too.

Suddenly this entire journey and adventure takes on a new urgency and I am lit up with love and passion and fierce commitment. Is this my nesting? I can't plan a room or buy the clothes...so I become this protective, brave, fierce mama bird? Well, alright I guess. I'll take it.

 .     .     .     .     .

The good man and I sit down and pray for these little ones, for their families and their circumstances. We pray for protection and comfort, healing and hope, we pray that they will find a home with us and make smooth adjustments. We pray that His hand would be upon them and keep them safe, whispering love to them. And I feel they are already mine, wherever they are, whoever they are, whatever they look like, and wherever they come from. I love them strongly, fiercely, deeply.

And I want more than anything to write them a note, a message in a bottle, or tied to a bird or, can I scroll it on a billboard?:

 "We are waiting for you. We love you already, loved you for a thousand years! We are bringing you home...

And others are waiting too! A whole community and family, who love you already for you. Uncles and Aunts and Meemaws and Pop-Pops. You are loved deeply, through and through." 

And I know when I see them, I won't be grieving the loss of the children we could have had. No, I will be thinking, Look! Those are our little ones, the ones He always had in mind. Aren't they the most beautiful sight you've ever seen? And, yes, I will count fingers and toes and marvel at eyes and noses, and never stop. 

Leaps & Bounds Closer

How, really how can I explain to you the amazing things we have seen this week? We have seen long lost missed friends show up to give, to encourage and reconnect. We have seen lifelong friends give generously and unexpectedly, to our shock and pure excitement and gratitude. We have seen complete strangers excitedly run up to the garage, "Is this the sale I heard about on facebook?!" And buy a few things and give a few dollars, or just give! We have seen our expectations blown out of the water, completely exceeded. 

Most of all, we have seen God moving in our hearts, holding and molding and changing and softening, and in the hearts of others. We have seen with our own eyes the amazing things that happen when a community comes together with a common goal, covered in prayers, when God is faithfully working. He fiercely loves those in need, especially our little ones who are waiting to come home, and we have seen how powerful that love truly is. 

I have repeated a simple mantra to myself at times throughout our marriage -- in school, in unemployment, when bills arrive in the mail -- "God is bigger than numbers. God is bigger than money. God is bigger than circumstances." 

And this week I believe and know this with all my heart. Like the Israelites waiting in Egypt, wanting to believe that God was faithful, to the Israelites who live in the promised land who have seen with their own eyes the faithfulness of the Father, we can now say to each other, just as Moses did: "Remember when God arrived, and lead, and saved, and provided, and blew our minds away? Yeah, he's going to do that again, so why don't we trust Him now?!" 

This week we braved an unexpected heat wave with temps rising to the high 90s, something of legend in the north woods. We braved a fierce and mighty storm that nearly drenched all of the clothes for sale (had it not been for my wonderful bro's awesome help!) and did succeed in taking down the screen tent (which I held up as potential shoppers watched in their cars while Mom pulled up to help and later commented, "You looked like a drown rat! Ha. ha. ha.") 

And I survived a chaotic morning during which I did not have sale signs and had to drive around town to locate the vehicle that stored said signs, and forgot my cash box at my sister's apartment and needed to run to the bank and McD's to get cash and change -- all between 7:30 and 8:15! We also survived an injured and sick sister for whom I ran to get a bucket before the third day of the sale. And if you remember my previous comments about Bean's nonexistent experience in puking, you'll understand how dire the hour was. 

So all in all it was an adventure like no other, in both crazy fun stories to share for years to come, and the amazing ways in which God showed up and provided immeasurably more than we had asked or imagined.

.     .     .     .     . 

Drum roll please...

GARAGE SALE FUNDRAISER TOTAL: $1751
(my sister paid her bill of $3 after we made the sign!)

More than triple what we had hoped to raise!!!

Total Raised To Date: $3401

Which means...we have raised enough money to pay for and complete our home study!! Once the home study has been approved, we can officially apply for grants! 

We will continue fundraising as grants will cover some but not all of our adoption fees. 

We are only $1599 away from our first goal of $5000! 

I am in shock. Complete shock. I took the money to the bank to make it more manageable as a pile on ones is difficult to contain, and it hits me, like a ton of bricks, that we are within walking distance to our completed adoption. We are steps away, and I have to catch my breath every time it hits me. I get chills and am now bursting into tears at random moments. But unlike my puddles of tears left in baby aisles at Target and the mall, these tears are of pure joy, excited anticipation, and incredible unbelief as to how amazing the Lord has been, others have been, and my community has just loved on us throughout this entire process. 

Our home study will be completed when we move, between October and November, so anytime after that we could get a placement -- we could potentially have a child in our home before the end of the year!! Can you hear my screams and squeals?!?!

THANK YOU to everyone who donated, visited, gave extra, shared on facebook, told your friends, and supported us in spirit. We would like to thank a few special people that wet above and beyond to make this fundraiser possible, to whom we are forever grateful and joyful. 

To our special friends, we love you and truly appreciate your generosity and support:

Laura & Joel Boyd

Alex Boyd

Kristin Boyd

Lindsey Brimmer

Robin Gunnerson & Girls

Audrey 

Olivemae Gebhart

Leslie Beckrich

Cindy Stapleton

Tammy Ranso

Marilyn Isaac

Linda Hagen

Nancy Grossman

Carry Hopkins

Tom & Barb Adams

Joyce Sjostrand

Shelly Lambert

Amanda Butterfield

Sandy Hubbart

Naomi Hoard

There are many others who have helped in the background by quietly sharing and spreading the word, and those who have helped anonymously. If I forgot to mention you, please forgive me. In this whirlwind of a week it has been hard to keep track of my laundry let alone the details of this experience.