One Giant Step Closer...

An Update on our First Day of the Garage Sale Fundraiser:

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. 

Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, 

for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

Joshua 1:9

Let me just say that the good man and I walked into this fundraiser knowing that this would not raise the bulk of our needed funds. We planned auctions, donation pages, planned to bombard facebook and churches with our story. A "goal" for the week was to be happy at $400. That's $100 a day. Doable. Realistic. Yet, making a difference. 

I need to explain these expectations and assumptions so that you can see, along with me, how God blew them completely OUT OF THE WATER. 

Day One Total Raised: $843

Let me just say that again. Eight. HUNDRED. and Forty. Three. DOLLARS

More than DOUBLE our hopes for the week...in one day.

Our total raised to date: $2533

We are halfway to our first goal of $5000 -- to cover the home study and post placement visits.

.     .     .     .     .

I pull up to the house, the home I was born to, learned to walk in, the yard I played in, skinned my knees in, ventured with Bean and Ro' in. The garage, inside the walls I learned  to hammer nails, learned to love the smell of sawdust and my dad's handiwork, hard work. And how blessed we are to come home to home.

A car crammed with selfless love and encouragement: donations from family and friends spoken over with calls to courage, reminders of His provision, and hopeful expectations. I ran to say hi to Mom and Dad -- and took a breath before getting to the work. Boxes unloaded and sorted and cleaned and priced and organized, rearranged and backs stretched again and again. 


A smile breaks out, wide and bright. Bean arrives and the hot, sticky day, and all the work, seems so much more doable. I love my mom and dad, but there is something so wonderful about my sister walking in, strolling in, on a late August night, because she finally, finally, lives here again. And really, what would I do without her in all this?

More clothes sorted and folded and priced. And as the sun sets, we move into the garage and the boxes of...everything. Sorting, organizing, cleaning and it is late and dark and still the heat is building and we are tired. 

It's almost midnight. The neighborhood quiet and dreaming, snoring. The brother and the dad have long since retreated to their beds. And the three women work on. Bursts of laughter erupt into the night air, down the street and into the wood. Countless boxes and endless things displayed, with loving care. This work is common, the goal is rare. We are working for a baby and we are all silently aware. And doing what we know best -- laughing, goofing, making each moment count.

.     .     .     .     .

The signs are out and the door is open. Vans and trucks and bikes arrive. It's early morning and already the heat is well above 80, soon climbing into the 90s. And still they come, with their friends and sisters and children and alone. Family friends, long time friends, and strangers flock. Some just happened to drive by, others saw ads, and still others walk up and ask, "Is this the adoption sale? We've been waiting all week!"

There's something for everyone and most do find a treasure. $5, $10...the totals are tallied. And on more occasions than I could count, a twenty dollar bill was offered, and change was waved away, "You keep the rest." My heart overflows, overwhelmed and made speechless. I choked back tears and learned the simple art of nodding gratitude. 

A woman searched carefully through every table, every box, every corner, finding nothing. And still she walks my way, opens her wallet and smiles. "Couldn't find anything, so you can have it all." And slips the bills, secretly into our donation jar -- blue mason wrapped in twine borrowed from the wedding with a new sign (old, new, borrowed, blue -- because you're always building, creating family. It never stops at two.) 

A family friend, who walked along side band concerts, graduations, birthday parties, weddings, births, and everything in between, shared meals, stories, jokes, late night laughter and prayers -- an unexpected large sum donation and the sunglasses must go on. Tears are shed in disbelief, humbled and covered in love, and realizing that this community is here -- waiting in joyful anticipation, for these babies, theses little ones they love completely and have yet to meet. 

A little boy running wild while his mom asks the questions I eagerly answer -- about home studies, and future children, and fundraising, and all the exciting goings on. And this little boy finds a penny. And runs, full speed, to my side, "A penny! I found a penny, because every penny counts!" And I gush with honest and sincere gratitude for a penny. And I am so aware that I have never in my life been more thankful for a penny. Because, yes, little running wild boy, every penny is closer to our goal: 500,000 pennies. 

A lifelong friend swings by, again, having already shopped and bought and donated, to take orders for iced coffee because, lo and behold, Caribou just happens to be having a coupon day. So in the heat of the afternoon when we are at our last bit of sanity, our friend, who decorated at my wedding, who prayed with me in college, who is one of the most selfless people I have ever known, again, comes to the rescue. And we are oh, so grateful. My heart overflows again and I wonder how many times this can happen in one day?

.     .     .     .     .

After the sale, after tallying all the proceeds of the day, I rush to meet a dear friend, longtime friend, practically family. I am still in shock. I counted and recounted and counted again. And told myself, "Count again, correctly! You went to college! You have a degree!" And after the fifth time, it finally occurs to this girl of little faith that the numbers are correct and God has just stopped by to show off. Because, after all, it was never our sale, it was His. My heart overflows with love, joy, gratitude, humility. And I have an answer: a heart can never overflow enough. 

She asks how it went and I melt into tears. Unbelievable. Unimaginable. And He whispers, there in the cafe, "...Him, who is able to do immeasurably more than you can ask or imagine..." And we talk of adoption, and infertility, and babies, and life, and God and everything under the sun and whatever parts of me were worried or doubting or afraid or scared or anxious...are gone and what is left is overflowing with love. 

.     .     .     .     .

This was the first day of a simple sale to raise money to finish one step. 

One step closer. And I feel like I am running now, to my kids, our babies. And we are finally close. 

Thank you. To everyone who donated, brought a table, came, shared, liked, spread the word, bought, gave beyond the price, and gave simple words of encouragement and love. To those who are just as excited as us, who celebrate along with us. 

Thank you for joining us on this truly, amazing journey. I hope you see, just like me, how God is moving. 

And when asked why we are fundraising, making this usually private process so public, so out there, I will answer: "How could we not?"

How could we keep these adventures, answers to prayer, lavishing of love and care and community to ourselves? We'd later wonder, how selfish are we? And now you can see, adoption is not just an answer to infertility, a means to an end. Adoption is an adventure in trusting God, letting Him show off...because NOTHING can stand between Him and is kids. 

To those who are waiting with us, we ARE one step closer. thanks to you.

Adoption and Infertility: Not the Last Option

We're sitting in the overcrowded coffee shop, huddled together in the corner, moving our overstuffed chairs together so we can hear. She's leaning over her hot cup of chocolaty coffee goodness and we have passed with ease into the serious meat of conversation: marriage, family, children, faith...infertility. And she asks, "Have you ever thought about adoption?" And I know this is one of those moments. Careful words can change a life. I lean in close, "Yes, but...have you? Because adoption is not just for infertiles like me."

.     .     .     .     .

If you know anything about me, you will know that the Good Man and I have been trying and waiting and longing for children just as long as we have been married. And if you don't know much about me, you'll figure out rather quickly that I am not too shy about those pages in our story.

But what many people have not been made aware of, until recently, is our strong desire to adopt. It has been carried with us all along, an undercurrent, known and felt but rarely seen. Unlike the crashing waves and whitecaps of infertility. And although it seems that this "adoption thing" is a new idea or a new pursuit, we have been planning and preparing from the start.

What is new and surprising for us is the idea that adoption may be our only road to growing a family. This doesn't scare us, not much now anyway. Much like driving with your googled directions and coming across a detour sign. You are surprised and a little taken aback, but adjust accordingly and continue the journey. And maybe see a little something special that you wouldn't have had detour been avoided -- a random act of kindness, a perfect climbing tree, the most beautiful sunset you've ever laid eyes on.

And what is also surprising to me is the response I have gotten from several people in various places and walks of life when announcing our plans to adopt. Most are excited and know the long road we've traveled. Many are concerned, and rightly so, about the stress of the process and possible let downs we might face. And some...

It is the some that I find myself thinking about most often. Those few who, for whatever reason, have it in their mind that adoption is our last ditch effort, the end of the line, the way in which we settle, plan z, the forced choice after exhausting all other options. That adoption is an almost undesirable fate in life. If I do nothing else throughout this whole pursuit of adoption, including never growing our family, I hope to change perspectives about adoption and inspire others to consider if adoption is for them as well.

.     .     .     .     .

"we're  A D O P T I N G !"

"How many rounds of treatment have you gone through then? You must have tried everything..."

"That's great. You know, my best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with a girl whose mom adopted and got pregnant right way. So you never know..." (Hope you 80s kids enjoyed my adapted version of Simone's quote from Ferris Bueller's Day Off)

And there have been others. But these are the most common, I guess. I've been working hard to not be surprised and choose wise words that might ignite change.

The problem with the first is that it assumes we had to have exhausted all medical treatments in order to arrive at the detour dubbed "not our kids." It's the only conclusion, because, "why on earth would someone choose that?" Long ago the Good Man and I had The Conversation. We sat down and the heaviness of the next few moments and words loomed above us. I think all couples need to have The Conversation. But for the most part only the barren slip into the rest stops named "Questions You Never Want To Have To Answer." We drew lines in the sand. We would go this far, no further, in our pursuit of children of our own. Not even when it was free or welcomed or encouraged. We had our reasons, and I can tell you if you wish. We made lines. And we decided definitively that adoption would be part of our story. We haven't bumped up against those lines yet. Adoption is not our last ditch effort. The timing seems perfect now and we can see God moving in it so we are moving forward with Him. Yes, Lord. And obey.

My response: No we haven't tried everything under the sun. There are several medieval and ancient eastern treatments we haven't tried. But we're opting out of those. We haven't gone as far as we could or spent as much as we could. But this is the journey we are choosing and I am so very grateful to be here.

The second, Oh! The second! Sadly, it assumes that adoption could be a means to an end. You "give up" and settle for someone else's kids then surprise you get to have your "real" children! Yes, it happens. It happened to a friend of mine. She is That One. But it happens very rarely. And no one should go into the adoption process thinking that it will get them biological children. Every child is special. Every child is valued. And in our family, every child will be loved and treated the same. I stopped myself there. I was going to write "will be treated as if they were our own." But that's not true. No, they are our own, no matter where they are from. Our children are our children. They might take different roads to get to our arms but they have been in our hearts all along.

My response: Yes, that happens. But I'm not even thinking about that. I'm just going to be glad to have our babies home, wherever they come from.


THOUGH INFERTILITY AND ADOPTION DO FREQUENTLY BUMP TOGETHER, MIX AND MINGLE, EACH IS ITS OWN AMAZING JOURNEY -- BOTH FILLED WITH DEEP VALLEYS AND SOARING PEAKS. 

ADOPTION IS NOT AN ANSWER TO INFERTILITY. BUT IT CAN BE, FOR THOSE WHO ARE CALLED.  


And the third. Not so much a response to our adoption announcement, but an honest question while struggling with infertility:

"Have you ever thought about adoption?"

And this is my question for you. Have Y O U ever thought about adoption? Because it is not just an option for infertiles. It is a choice that deserves consideration by every one of us. The question is not "Could you take in a child that is not your own?" The question is this: "Are you willing to love and care for the fatherless, the orphan, the oppressed, the weary, and the unloved?"

Actually adopting a child may not be an option for you right now. But mentoring could be, volunteering, helping a family raise money for an adoption, donating to an adoption organization, praying for children needing a home, helping out a single mother, walking with a pregnant young woman who has chosen to give her child in adoption.

Not all people who ask this question carry with them the perspective that adoption is mainly for people who cannot have children of their own, but many do. And my hope is that if you are one of the few, you will make time to rethink your ideas about adoption. That you might be encouraged to wonder if adoption might be part of your story too.

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: 

to look after orphans and widows in their distress 

James 1:27

Dear Baby Brother...

Little man, baby boy, you changed everything.

Do you know that? Do you know that your life, your very being here, has rippled into the lives of countless others? I hope you know that.

I was that awkward teenager with braces, and glasses, and freckles. Yes, that trifecta. Ready to work and drive and looking forward to everything to come. Everything expected, just…the way life moves.  And then you came. And changed it all, made it all, blew the expected away and I am forever grateful. Do you know that, Little Brother? Let me tell you. Because you ought to know, you need to know. It's my story shaped by yours.

To be honest, I don't remember much of waiting for you. I remember the sit down. Mom and Dad telling Bean and I about you. That you might be part of our family. And I was excited. Scared, because I knew it would change us. But excited because I knew you would be great. And just like that, in what seemed like a heartbeat, you were here!

Eight pounds of wiggling, rolly, brown skin baby. Stark black hair and all perfection. I remember when you came home and I could not believe it. This little baby who we had not seen before was now ours. You were ours and I could hardly contain myself. My too-cool-teenage ways would not let me gasp and shed tears of overwhelming, unbelievable joy. But now, my embracing-my-emotions older self is bawling as I think of your way too cute face and your perfect cries.

 And I know that the age difference is hard sometimes. But I am grateful. Thankful. Because I remember the little things, with the big. You in your onesie, you in the sink -- a first bath at home. You in your feety pajamas. You with your bottle -- you couldn't get enough. The little fuzzy hairs that grew all up your brand new ears. Tiptoeing in to wake you up only to find your smiley self already bright eyed and ready to go. Your wrinkly face and sleepy sounds. You in the hallway with the unplugged iron you'd sneak off with -- ironing your socks and mine. You with the vacuum, your fave of all faves.

The little hands that would sneak their way under the bathroom door early in the morning. The squeaking of the doorknob as I washed my hair, you creeping in to lay with your blankie and fall asleep to the sounds of the water. Little barely walking one. Waking up to collect army worms and baby frogs. Running and chasing and laughing and tickling. And I carried you. Everywhere. My baby. I know I'm your sister. I know Mom is your mom, but you were always my baby.

How could I have known how much you would change my life? I sit here in disbelief. And in wonder. How great is our God? How faithful and amazing. And you, Bubba Lou, are the biggest evidence of His love. Your story, I am in awe.

And now you tower over me. You carry me. Still a teenager, I am beyond proud. The things you do, the things you say -- smart and wise and funny and amazing. My tough tackling, fast swimming, grand slam hitting, karate chopping, dubstepping, unicycling, magic marker fighting, fishing, silly, witty, gentle, sweet, wonderful brother. How would I live without you? What would our lives be without you? You complete our family. Do you know that? I hope you do.

We sat down, you and I, on a warm afternoon. You were all of 6 and sad that I was getting married and leaving. Do you remember? And I said I would visit. And you nodded your head, in that way you do. My heart broke for you. And you asked if we were going to have kids. I said, probably. And you said, I'll never forget it. "Well, you probly won't have some until next year and then I won't be able to play with them until they're about 4. So I will be at least 10 when I finally have some kids to play with!" Words of a little boy, smaller than all the rest.

And I laughed and laughed. Later I asked you who Jason would be to you after the wedding. You whispered quiet into the dark, "My bruver." And I asked, who is Dad going to be? And you, hilarious you, said, "My uncle."

You called 911 from Walmart on the day of the wedding and were scared that they would arrest you and you wouldn't be the "ring bear." And you asked so perfectly during our pictures, with your little hand on my belly, if I was pregnant yet. Still wanting someone closer to your age to play with. And you visited and I burned the garlic bread and set off the smoke detector. I'll never live that down.  Would you have believed you would grow up so fast?

And Jason knew all about you. About your story and how you came to be with us. And he loved you right away, like a brother. I hope you know how much you mean to him. His first brother. And we talked about adoption, even at the beginning. Because of you. And I told him, without a doubt, we would adopt. We would, eventually. Because I can't imagine life without you. Because you are such a blessing. Because there are others like you who need a family to take them in, even in a heartbeat and love them no matter what.

I want to be careful here. Because in some ways you are like the others. Adopted and loved and a story unlike all the rest. In someone else's tummy, always in our hearts. 

But in other ways, you are not like the others. Your story is not one of a mistake, neglect, abuse, or  unwantedness. You were valued and loved and wanted, even before you were born, before we knew about you.  You know your family. You visit your family, because, wonderfully, your family is part of our family. And you are loved by your family. And your birth mother, bless her heart, loved you so much that she chose to do the most impossible, difficult thing. And I'm not sure what was going through her mind, could she have done it all on her own? Probably, other women have. But she didn't. And for whatever reason, not for lack of love, she chose to give us the most amazing, incredible gift. You. I think about this all the time. How you came to us and how God worked it all out. I think about all of this and am just so thankful, grateful, in awe. You didn't have to come to us, but you did and I am so glad you did.

So yes, you are like the others, adopted or waiting. But in many other ways, you are not. And I breathe deep, thankful.

Yes. Oh, yes. We talked about adoption. And I was settled on this. And I found it strange to have to articulate this because it was such a normal, natural, regular part of my life. I know you are adopted, as a fact. But forever you have been my brother in my heart. From first sight. So it is strange, to talk about it so factually. "Jason, we are adopting." It feels like a decision rather than a way of life. And this is just our life, isn't it? 

And we didn’t think about it for a long time. Dear brother, I don’t know how much you know about our story. About our trying to having babies on our own, our struggle to grow our family, and make little nieces and nephews for you. And I was so sad, still sad, that quite possibly we will never experience children of our own...

And I would watch you. Learning and growing and becoming an amazing young man, loving God and others. I am proud. And think of you, with my broken heart and worn out spirit. And it hit me, clicked, and sparked a fire. There must be others, others like you and not like you. And I thought this most awful, painful thought -- what if there was a little Alex somewhere waiting for a home? A little boy, much like you, who didn't have anyone to care for him, love him, spoil him, teach him…

I imagined Little AJ and your love for all things Toy Story or Cars, imagined that little boy sitting alone and waiting. I remember scooping you up so easily when you were little. Oh, how I long to do that for my own children -- scoop them up, love on them, teach them about Jesus and Nebuchadnezzar, and see their wisdom grow. So how could I just sit here and whine when there were other little ones just waiting and wishing?

I watched you and I thought of how little I am reminded that you are adopted. I don't think of you any different than Bean, my sibling, a part of our family, and I love you just as much. And I knew in that moment, for sure and for certain, that any child coming into our family would be loved just as if they came from us, and they would be loved just as much by others -- you, Bean, Mom, Dad…so I didn't worry or wonder anymore. Because of you. Because of your story. Because of how easily you swept through our lives, changed everything, and just...fit. Perfectly.

We're adopting. Did you know that? And did you know you are a big part of that? If you and your surprise bursting of my expected life, the wonderful gift of you and all you are, was not part of my journey through life I might not be here, in this moment. I might not have let the idea of my children go in order to take in others. And just as I believe you were always meant to be a part of our family, just taking a different road to get here, I do believe, with all my heart, that our children, wherever they are, will always be meant to be a part of our family. They're just taking a special road to us. And this revelation is because of you.

Do you know how important you will be to these little ones? You may not have our noses or our toes, but you do have our love. And you can walk alongside them as they try to figure out this crazy family we all love so much. And when they are wondering about adoption and family and what all that means to them, you are the only one of us who can tell them from experience how it all works and how this family doesn't care about flesh and blood. But only sees the amazing gift and potential in everyone.

And because of you, young man towering over me, growing up so fast and so wise, becoming a wonderful young man after God's own heart, who knows how many lives you will change? One is worth it all, but I'm thinking there will be more. And I am honored to be a part of your amazing story. I'm honored to have been changed by you. Honored to call you my brother. 

A D O PT I N G ! ! !

I know, you're probably thinking, I thought they were already adopting!

And that was the plan. We were hoping to work towards adoption through the foster care system in our county but as time continued to move without a single placement, with a lot of thought and a lot of prayer we decided to move forward on our own.

We've been busy! We've been researching and praying and learning and trying to fill out MORE paper work. And we finally feel ready to announce this NEW development to you all. We are beyond excited and so grateful for everything God has been doing these past six months. Even in the crazy and weary and faint, God is good.

Here's a summary of the journey so far:

Last December we decided to pursue an adoption through an adoption agency. I met with a few friends and friends of friends about possible agencies in our area and asked TONS of questions about their process.

In March we started meeting with an adoption group through our church, Eagle Brook Church. We met some wonderful people and learned about more possible agencies. It was so amazing to connect with other couples who are in the EXACT same place as us in the process as well as those who have gone before us -- to share doubts, concerns, questions, excitement and hear amazing stories of families brought together at last!

In April we had it narrowed down to two different Christian Adoption Agencies in our area!

Last month we attended an information meeting given by God's Children Adoption Agency at a local church and instantly we felt called to work with them. (I'll tell you all about that later, because that is a story in itself,)

Last month we also decided to open our parameters to waiting children. Initially, when we walked into the meeting with the agency we were settled on private infant adoption, but were soon feeling God nudging us further. We are currently open to sibling groups of up to three, ages ranging from 0 to 6. And we continue to be open to a private infant adoption as well.

We also met privately with a case manager from GCAA to discuss in greater detail our adoption options. We are so exited to continue working with God's Children.

.     .     .     .     .

So why, after keeping this all to ourselves for so long, are we sharing now?

We don't know the timing of all of this. We haven't even sent in our application yet. There's a few more things to take care of before we jump in. But I did want to share it all now for a few reasons:

1. I just can't keep it to myself anymore!

2. We want you ALL to be a part of this journey too.

3. We need your support.

It has taken a long time and a lot of work to see how blessed we are to be on this journey. The view from here is pretty wonderful. To know and love that this is the plan that God has for our family is...indescribable. Finally, finally, we can see how everything has come together, how everything is working together, and how God just put all the pieces in the right places.

For us, adoption is so much more than getting "our children." Adoption is a calling. Adoption is part of living out our faith. Adoption is not about getting, but really, it's about giving. It's about gifts -- giving the gift of a family, a home, love. And receiving gifts -- children in our home, laughter, and so much more -- gifts we haven't even begun to imagine.

We are also completely at God's mercy here. We have no retirement to borrow from, we can't take out a loan. We are completely trusting and believing that God will provide everything we need -- one way or another. And please know, I'm saying this only because I want you to see how wonderful this adventure will be. We have nothing. So God must provide everything. And we have no way of knowing how he will do that! Surprises all along the way. And how amazing to say, years later (with or without children) "God did that. God did that, so we have to know that God is real, God is good and God is working."

And I want to share that with you. This road is not the norm for growing a family. It's full of impersonal paper work, personal questions, state requirements...but it is our road. And I'm going to share with you from now on every crazy, terrifying, exciting step. Because we need prayer support and friends. Because it could be your once in a lifetime opportunity to be a vital part of helping a family come together. I'm serious. YOU could be a part of making a family. How? Praying. Donating. Learning. Advocating. Adopting in the future? Because maybe our experience is the push that someone else needs to take the first steps themselves toward adoption or foster care. Because this is all just too good to keep to myself! You could be witnesses to miracles!

My desire is to allow you to see glimpses of the adoption process, opportunities to be involved, and gain a better understanding of adoption and orphan care as a whole. We're only one family. One story. But I truly believe, with all of my heart, that God is calling us to allow Him to use this experience and story and share with others. I hope you are ready for an incredible ride.

.     .     .     .     .

So how can you get involved?

PRAY! We are in need of your prayers. Prayers for the right timing, the funding, paperwork filled out and filed correctly, prayers for strength and wisdom as we wait and are matched with children. Prayers for the children who will be coming into our home. Prayers for their families and mothers -- for whatever the circumstance. Prayers that God will be working in every step.

DONATE! No, I'm not asking for your money. (Although it would help.) There will be several opportunities in the next months to donate unwanted items for garage sales, handmade items for auction, and whatever else we can come up with! A check is nice, but I don't want to take your money. And I do know that there are at least a few of you who need to spring clean. So do it, clean closets and garages and I will gladly take your unwanted things -- it could be someone else's treasure. Any little bit will help.

READ! I have opened a new page which links to our adoption blog, Not Under My Heart. Because our babies are growing, not under my heart, but in it.

FOLLOW IT so you can be updated on every step. This is also where I will share more about our adoption agency, our decisions about adoption, and information about garage sales and auctions.

I would so prefer to sit with you over a cup of coffee and share our journey, my heart, with you, but it's not always possible. And I so wish that you all could be a part of this adventure, if you are willing, so please stay connected and keep reading. This isn't going to be merely a monthly update on our progress. I'm also going to be taking about specific concerns, issues, scripture, and pretty much all things adoption and orphans.

And to all of you who have supported us along this bumpy adventure: Thank you. Where would we be without you? And you will be blessed for all you have done and given, even if simply a quiet hug.

Thanks for sharing in our adventure,

Jenna & The Good Man, Jason

Adoption: A Way of Life, A Leap of Faith

Why did we choose to adopt?

I'm not sure how to answer that. But let me start at the beginning. Adoption was not so much a choice as it was a way of life.

Most of my adventure stories are about my sister, Bean (Kristin Jean Jelly Bean), and I when we were growing up. We're really close in age so it was like having a twin -- but not. (A little red-headed twin with monster bangs and a stubborn loathing for lima beans.) And we were always together, because we had no friends. Not really. We had loads of friends. Parents PAID to have their kids play with us, at our house. So what if my mom ran a daycare? The kids were really there to see us! We were just…always together and finding trouble. So the adventures pretty much tell themselves.

I have a sister.

 And I have a brother. Alex Bro Jelly Roll. Ro'. This adventure is about him. The best adventure yet because one day turned into a lifetime and this little man changed…everything.

.     .     .     

A Leap of Faith

It was a normal day. So normal that I cannot recall anything specific that we were doing. Most likely, I was in my room reading or listening to music. Bean was probably in her room, studying, or in the kitchen chatting with my mom. My dad could have been at work. I'm not sure. But that normal, nothing special day turned into the day that changed all the rest. The day that my life shifted, our lives shifted, and moved and become something completely...else. How does one describe that fork in the road that marked a new life, a different life, an adventure and journey so amazing that we just cannot imagine living any other way, cannot fathom returning to the old usual, normal, nothing-special day?

My parents received a call. A ring. Is that the sound that life-change makes?

A most important call, dripping heavy with big decisions, tough choices, unimaginable circumstances and a whispered question: Will you take the baby?

A family member had discovered that she was unexpectedly expecting. And after what must have been the most agonizing few weeks, decided that the best decision would be to place this little life, still unborn, in an adoptive family. And one family came to mind. Our family.

Yes.

Yes. Of course, yes!

I now know the ins and outs of this decision. The late night conversations and discussions whispered between my parents as my sister and I continued our days. There was a lot to consider. Would they be able to take in another person, a little person? Could they feed another belly? What about the age difference? My sister was twelve and I, thirteen. Were they too old for a newborn? This was not just babysitting, but a baby that would grow into a toddler, a child, a teenager...were they ready to start all over with another one?

I now know the ins and outs of this decision but then, from my young eyes, there appeared to be a heartbeat's time between question and confident answer. Yes. All the reasons to say no could not have been outweighed by all the reasons to say yes. Most important, how in the world could they say no to this little innocent life who needed a home and a family?

My parents weren't looking to adopt, only opened their eyes to the idea, raised their palms in surrender and God dropped my brother into their hands. And in the face of questioning eyes and doubts and fears, they packed their bags when the time came and returned with a little, wriggly, beautiful baby boy.

Alex.

We brought him home and it was as if finally our little family was complete. A completeness we never knew we needed. But once filled, we can't even begin to imagine life before him. How quiet and boring and bland and empty. He rounded us out and filled the spaces we didn't know we had. From that first day on, I cannot imagine life without this little silly person all boy and wild and burly and tall and snappy and fun. How did we not notice the huge chunk of us missing? And all I can think is that it was made right before we started looking to fix it ourselves.

And most amazingly, my parents were able to finalize the adoption without a homestudy, placement fees, post placement visits...It wasn't like my parents set out to avoid these things. They gladly provided everything required. They would have paid fees and done studies. Ro' is worth it. He's worth everything. But these things were simply not required in this case. And as I listen to my mom telling me every detail of this story, I am in awe.

Ro' is adopted. It's not something we avoid talking about. My family is pretty open about it. He's known this small detail from the very beginning, because one's story is important. Because his story is so amazing, how could we not tell it?

My brother has always known two things. One: He is loved and our brother. Never thought of as less of a sibling or son. He is 100% ours and always meant to be. Two: His birth story is different from ours, only because he took a different road to get here, where he belongs. It doesn't mean his story, his birth story, is somehow tragic or tinged with intrigue. If anything, his story is more wonderful, beautiful, amazing, and miraculous than ours.

How God must have planned this out, perfectly. How it all came together -- like he was meant to be with us from the beginning. Maybe because he WAS! God knew this. I am certain. He knew this little one would be in our family, just taking a different road than my sister and I.
  

and more to come...