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.

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.

A NEW ADOPTION JOURNEY

Hello Friends!

It has been quite a while. We've had to kind of snuggle in and protect together with this new family. So many things were a little different than I had imagined they would be. And so many things are so much more than I could ever have imagined.

We had to pull back quite a lot on the public aspect of our adoption journey for a few reasons. The biggest reason being that with a three year old who is making crazy amounts of adjustments, along with loss, and the expected attachment building there just was no time to sit and write complete sentences and post them with beautiful pics. Another reason was to protect. To protect this little one, To protect her future. To make sure she was adjusting well, felt secure, and comfortable in this new family. (I'm sure I'll write more on that later at some point.)

I am thrilled beyond measure to tell you that we are thriving here. We are just absolutely in awe and love with our little girl who had suddenly turned into a big girl, practically overnight. We have settled in comfortably into our new life together and I could not, in a million years, ask for anything more.

Except for a bigger family.

And we are excited to announce that we have renewed our home study and are officially WAITING for some brothers and sisters to add to this little tribe soon!!

We are so blessed to be able to stay with our case manager, Anita, on this new adoption journey. We firmly believe we would not have our little Bea home without her hard work, many hours on the phone, and her warrior prayers throughout our journey. I mean, she went WAY above and beyond for our girl and we are so incredibly grateful and blessed by her. It was a God-moment when, two years ago, we walked into the God's Children Adoption Agency informational meeting in just down the road from our apartment and met our "Muh-nita" (as our girl calls her).

We renewed our home study but under a different agency name. We are now working with Legacy of Adoption and so excited!

We are continuing our interest in adopting from foster care and are keeping everything very open as far as special needs and are open to any ethnicity.

So look forward to some more truly amazing miracles and unexpected answers to prayer. Please continue to partner with us in prayer, and giving if you feel so called. We know that God's plan of adoption is nothing short of incredible and He will never let anything get in the way of a child and his or her forever family.

I have also began to write again about daily life and whatnot at a new blog address: our-tiny-tribe.blogspot.com. Please also note the new address of our adoption blog as well. And if you would like to follow us on instagram: @jennaloujellyshoe is our private account, @our.tiny.tribe is our public account.

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.

What's in a Name?

 I scroll the names over and over again, in notebooks and scraps of paper when I'm at my desk, walking through stores, at the coffee shop. I text them to myself for safe keeping. I write them in color and in pencil, permanent and thick, repeatedly until I have memorized every curve and loop. Each twirl of ink a prayer that someday, one day…I will see the face of this name and know them as my own.

 .     .     .     .     .

We're riding in our little car with the little two seats and the loud exhaust so we have to speak boldly, there are no whispers here. Ever. And I must shout the next topic of conversation as we are headed to feast on Chinese food at our favorite place where Trina now knows us by name and writes our "usual" order from memory. I ask looking straight out the window, "What do you think about [insert boyish name]?" And I can see from his shifting weight and the corner smile and the eyes that the good man knows the subject well and is surprised that I have made that move to the forbid places. And by the way his shoulders drop, my love is deeply saddened that these places are so forbidden. We smile big and throw caution to the wind and talk of middle names and first names and write one in secret. Write it in capital letters, dark and bold, on our hearts together. A name as a prayer. And we are quiet again, avoiding eyes and smiling out our side windows, hope stretched out from my heart, around the world and back to his.

 .     .     .     .     .

We are, the four of us, sitting in the car in the parking lot, waiting to get moving, settling in. The good man and my siblings. Some of the most loved people in my life, and of course it is the most cherished that witness another moment of my barren womb effected brain freak out. She, with her wedding planning blissful blushing bride self, with the whole world and her whole new life ahead of her, talks of names for babes. Family names. James. Lydia. Her tongue is rolling over names I have scrolled with my heart...finding joy in the sounds of names I have hidden deep inside and...graffiti-ed on scraps of paper that I saved for almost a decade! And I can see her eyes are picturing these possible future little ones. MY LITTLE ONES. And something violent erupts inside me. I yell through my fake smiling teeth, "Who says I won't use that?" I am red and sweating and trembling. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to be offended. But I can't.

Because really, did I expect that my whole family and all of my friends would stop naming children until I got my names into good use? YES! Yes, kind of sort of in tiny places, yes. I did. And it was stupid and ridiculous and I could just slap myself for putting that expectation out there and yelling at the dreamer for it. And who could hold it against her? I've done it. We've all done it, as we picture wedding vows and the new home and registering or gifts, we also imagine the family life. And we should. She should. And I should let her.

And I realize I am possessive of these names. A link to the dream of the child that will bear this much-loved name. And in my selfishness and possessiveness I am a meanie. A bully. Or just shut down. And I am wrong.

I am sad. And ashamed to become the one, whose dreams have dried out, smashing the dreams of others. I am sorry, dear Bean. Dream on. Pick names and hold them tight. And I will pray that you see their faces one day. Soon. And they will be blessed to have you.  

 .     .     .     .     .

But it does occurs to me off and on, completely and deeply, and simply in passing, that we may not be able to name our children. And even if your story is far different than mine, for the next few minutes, imagine with me...Imagine you cannot name the child growing within you, or the child you hold in your arms, or the child you dream of. Imagine your child comes to you already named... 

.     .     .     .     .

Those names I have written and hidden and scrolled and prayed and saved and listed over and over and over again…those hopes and dreams and prayers and wishes…they may never come true. I have held so tightly to them for so long that it is the most impossible thing to do -- to let them go.

Finally we are so close. We are moving steadily to a house of toys and mess and noise and kids. And I realize here too that even when the dream of being Mom is reality, the names locked away as treasure still might have to go.

 .     .     .     .     .

Heartbreaking. This thing that we do as little girls, and boys I suppose, like tiny treasures along the road through life. A name here and there, stumbled upon, thought up, memorial to a friend or family member, histories and new beginnings listed and held and cherished, and each one important, special, and we find hope in the future.

This little thing others do, that I have done, and I worry that I have to open my fist and watch them float away. And I know a person is more than their name, my children will be my babies whether or not I name them, but it is the dreams formed or attached to the names that makes it so difficult to let go.

And the names the little ones do have…I'll tell you a secret. Lean in close, because I'll whisper it to you. I'm afraid I will strongly dislike the name. Not the child, but the name. You know that once-friend or acquaintance arch-nemesis  that you could have just done without, so much so that you hear their name and you are instantly annoyed or bothered or transported to a hurtful moment? What about those names? Will I remember that person forever as I call her to the table? Call him to bed? It's silly, I know, but something few must face and we who are called to adopt must. And I'll bet some of you have never even thought about this dilemma.

Names carry important meaning to the giver. A gift from parent to child, and even nicknames -- friend to bestie...Selfishly I want to bestow the meaning. I want to bring family history alive again. I want to chose the sounds and meanings of their first identity. I want to know where this name is from and how it was decided and tell the story and look into the eyes of the one whose name I had scrolled on scraps and saved in my box forever years ago. I want this. And later when their friends talk about where their names came from -- important moments, silly stories, last minute choices -- what will I say? "Your birth mom gave you that name and I have no idea why"? Of course I wouldn't say that, and I would hope that I could have somewhat of an open relationship with the birth mom to call or write and ask, lest you think little of me and my selfishness. But really, what do I say?

.     .     .     .     .

I have a soul friend whose children are named after Middle Earth characters. And I LOVE that. Their lives are full of adventure with costumes, and color, and wooden swords made by their father, and hand-knit hats and sweaters by their mother, and they love food fresh from the garden. I love this. I want this. And their names, however curious to others, are absolutely perfect for these burly boys.

I have a friend whose girls have short, lilty girly names that just flow of your tongue and make you melt, just like their cute faces. With curly blonde hair and joyful smiles and sweetness all about them.

My dad comes from a family where all the children's names start with the letter 'J'. And I have loved this since the preacher man said, "Jenna, do you take Jason..." J & J and j...j...j...j...j... All the names have special meaning and what a wonderful way to join siblings. 

I know that children are more than their name. I know a name does not define a person. I know that a name does not change a person's personality, demeanor, or family tie. I know this. But I know that there is something deep and rich about names with cherished meaning, names with family history, names handpicked, for which parents spend many nights discussing in whispers covered in shadows, together. And I know that cute names with meaning do not create the perfect, picturesque family.

And I just thought...I just assumed...that my grieving would end at the baby bump. But now this too I must grieve? Hasn't it all been enough? And does the grieving ever end? No, I think all mothers, no matter the journey, must grieve too as time keeps ticking and the earth spins on. 

.     .     .     .     .

How do we tread lightly with these names? How do we decide when a child is too old to change a name? Do we change the middle name? Or the first name? Or both? Do we make the first name the middle name? If we adopt an infant, do we let the birth mother pick the middle name? 

Do we keep a name even when if does not fit us or them whatsoever? I'm thinking of those names we hear on TV or the radio, those lists that come out ever year of the top worst names, (Yes, there are terrible names.) So what do we do if we welcome Apple into our home? Or La-ah(La DASH ah)? Or Melvin? (Sorry Melvins of the world).

 .     .     .     .     .

The Question: So what does the person who loves names, treasures names, finds personal connection with names do with the names of her newly adopted children?

The Answer: I don't know. I guess we'll get to it when we get to it. And we'll remember that these children, along with their names, are the children God had chosen for us right from the beginning. Just as He had in mind for us This Barren Land and this adoption adventure. And He knows what He's doing. Always. Even when we can't see.

And I am learning my part in This Barren Land is to learn the art of letting go and finding joy in the unexpected life. And that every life is unexpected. There is joy and grieve in all.

My part in the Adoption Adventure is to learn to trust the Father in His unfailing love. He's got it and I'm to hold on for the ride. 

And God, give me grace all along the way. The grieving never stops, neither does the labor, though I may never experience a contraction. Give me grace. And help me to give grace to others. 

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.