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. 

. : 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.

Beyond Names...the Other Firsts

Before you continue on...

Some Prayer Requests:

{1} A fast and smooth closing on our house. We have signed the purchase agreement and have everything into the lender. We're just waiting on paper work. Waiting is our life's work...

{2} Our home study process. That all the paper work will be completed and given to the correct offices on the first try. That we will be approved shortly.

{3} For the children and families whose lives have changed, and with whom we will forever be connected. 

. : UPDATE : .

...at the bottom of the post

.     .     .     .     .

He has learned to ride a bike, this once-little burly babe, and I can hardly believe how time does fly even when we feel it dragging slow. This child I have loved across the miles and through all life's moments these past few years. This child handed off to me between classes by grateful parents -- he with chubby cheeks and colicky ways and me astonished that someone would trust a broken barren woman to care for their boy. This child I cried with -- he when new to the world and missing mom's heartbeat, and I when mad at the world and longing to be that soothing heartbeat for another. 

And somehow she new, my friend, my Anam Cara, she knew I needed to hold new life, to know there is good, to just smell new baby and smile. And there he is, in all his awesomeness and excitement, riding a bike. My heart swells with love and pride -- for him and her. For she is growing amazing children.

.     .     .     .     .

I wrote about names before. The names we have treasured and whispered. Hopeful secrets. And now these names we hold so tightly we may have to let go. And there is more.

First words. First bath. First food. First roll. First steps. First tooth. First birthday. First day at the zoo. First  winter and snow. First bike ride. First day of school.

A mother's grief is never ending. We grieve the dreams for a boy and we must let go when we have a girl. We grieve the dreams for a girl and we must let go when we have a boy. We grieve the simple, easy baby we had envisioned when they are sickly and colicky. We grieve the cuddling and hugs when they become independent. We grieve the independent life when we discover we have a clingy toddler. We send them to school, and watch them grow. And we grieve. Where did the baby we so desperately longed for go? He up and turned into a young man.

So maybe I'm just ahead of the curve here? Maybe I'm learning early what all moms must be skilled to do -- grieve well and carry on. But that's not at all how it feels.

.     .     .     .     .

He hates it.

Well, maybe not really hates it, but he definitely wants it to stop, to be the growing up teenager, if we would let him. But here we are, again, retelling and reliving every single story from his most adorable years, of which there are many! We throw our heads back in full body laughter. He rolls his eyes and sighs loud. We gasp in surprise at how easily we have forgotten. We smile proud and look long at this young man towering over us all who somehow was, once, the littlest. 

That time he knocked down the Christmas tree in the middle of the night.

That time he climbed into the fish tank…in the middle of the night.

That time Mom became the overenthusiastic sports parent.

That time he licked Jason's chicken dinner.

The things he said, the things he did. The way he changed our everything.

How he made our world exciting, surprising, everyday an adventure.

And I remember the first word. I remember the first bath, the first tooth, the first step, the first bike ride. I remember all of these things. Not because I kept meticulous journals and records.

I remember because I love him.

I remember because these moments are important. Because they are milestones, funny stories we would die to relive, crazy stories we believe only because we were there. Because we watch in amazement as this little strange baby ambles around and suddenly becomes his own person.

    

I know he wants us to see the young man he is, the man he is growing into. He wants to be the star football player, the championship marcher, the student driver. Not the little boy who got carried all day by his big sister. And definitely not the baby who said "Booka booka" when he wanted juice.

But we sit around the kitchen table, around the fire, in the car and talk about all these moments and memories because we love him.

And later, when he is all grown up and out in the world on his own, has children of his own he will treasure the wellspring of memories we all have. And he will know always that he is loved.

…Or maybe he will still hate it. Well, too bad, Bro. Too bad.

.     .     .     .     .

I think about the firsts, the milestones and cute stories that I might never be able to tell. And it's true, there are always firsts. But all are not the same. The first word is much more cute and amazing than the first brain freeze from a slushy.

I struggle intensely with this, not that I would change anything. This road to adoption and adopting waiting children has been an amazing adventure and, quite honestly, it's our calling. BUT…I do struggle. I struggle to grieve what I must without feeling guilty for grieving. The counselor in me says "I am a real, honest, self-aware person who recognizes the need for and process of grieving in order to move forward in a healthy manner." But the others parts of me wonder, Am I an ungrateful person, a critical person, for allowing this to bother me so? Shouldn't I just be happy?

I guess the truth is -- we all grieve. And although we might not like it or think it unnecessary, we grieve and we move forward. Not forgetting, but learning and growing. We all live in the unexpected life. We all experience the now differently than we thought it would be 5 years ago. And that's part of the beauty of the adventure.

Oh, I'm babbling…

And really, though I would do nearly anything to see all of their firsts, it's not about me.

They deserve their firsts. They deserve the silly, crazy, funny, embarrassing stories of firsts and adventures. They deserve pictures and albums and retelling. They deserve to have these minor and monumental moments treasured, recorded. They deserve to know how they too made our world exciting, surprising, everyday an adventure.

They deserve to know that someone loved them from the first breath.

A child adopted out of foster care at 2 years old does not come with a photo album describing firsts. There is no file detailing the silly misadventures of this child, my child, learning to walk or eating first foods. We have the memories of the foster parents, if they were the foster parents at the time.

And no matter how much I long to bring the chronicles of firsts to them, no matter how much I believe they deserve it, how much they do truly deserve it…I might not be able to. And it breaks my heart.

I can come to terms with my unexpected life. But I would give anything to give them something them a normal beginning.  

And maybe it won't matter to them later on.

Maybe we'll find the stories and moments.

Or maybe we'll be that crazy odd couple running around creating firsts everyday

.     .     .     .     .

. : UPDATE : .

This afternoon the good man and I are scheduled to complete our second home study visit. 

We have also paid for and sent in our background studies and handed over much of the paper work. We're hoping to have our home study completed and approved before December. But in order to do so, we need to have all of our house stuff figured out too! So much going on! 

Thanks for reading, for learning about adoption, and for your support! 

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. 

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.