As we sat around my house earlier this month celebrating Mother’s Day (my 8th, whoa!) with family, I took a moment to meditate on the blessing of motherhood.  Sometimes I cannot believe that God trusts me to raise these three precious beings whom I have the privilege of calling “mine.”  All three of them are so special and unique, and I love each of them in different ways for the little people they are.  They all bring such joy to my life.  Angel is my little “mama in the making,” exploding with such compassion and love.  Lovebug is my court jester, with a heart of gold that he uses to love and feel so deeply.  And Sunshine is my fierce warrior, so strong and courageous, overflowing with love and hope.  I see Jesus working through their young lives all the time.  I am a better person because of them and my faith has been strengthened because of what they’ve shown me about unconditional love, grace, and life.  I celebrate how much more my children have given me than I could ever possibly give to them.

While thinking about this on Mother’s Day, I couldn’t help but notice something God-breathed and simply beautiful.  It was the way Sunshine was so comfortably a part of everything, as if she had just always been.  She was happily climbing all over my dad as any grandchild would do.  She was interacting with her 93-year-old great-grandma in a way that no one else could.  She ran to each of her grandparents effortlessly, squealing their names with delight.  She played with and chased around her brother and sister as any sibling would.  She wrapped her little arms around her daddy’s neck so sweetly as he carried her around.  And she laid with me on the sofa with such trust and security and love, as if I had always been her mama.  It was the way it’s supposed to be.  It was breathtaking.

Almost two years ago, we brought her home to us forever.  At the six-month mark, I thought things were good.  At the one-year mark, I thought things were great.  But almost two years home, oh my it just keeps getting better and better.  The love that I have in my heart for this precious child has grown so big, it’s overwhelming at times.  It definitely had to grow and be nurtured, but it’s very real and it is fierce.  She is mine and that is amazing.  This plan that God has for Sunshine and for our family is pretty awesome.  And watching it unfold right before my eyes is truly remarkable.

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Nicole is a child of God and a wife to an amazing man.  She is a classical homeschooling mama to three (two homegrown, one who came to them through the beautiful gift of international adoption).  She is also a part-time newborn photographer, founder and adoption photographer at Red Thread Sessions, a contributing blogger at No Hands But Ours and an advocate of orphan care and adoption. She loves to blog and learn new things.  She strives to live her life to glorify our Heavenly Father. With His love, all things are possible.

 

I am so tired of waiting for joy.

I am so tired of saying that life will be great when ______.

When I meet my husband.
When I finish school.
When we have children.
When Amelia gets home.
When our finances change. (not that we lack!)
When my schedule clears.
When my work situation is different.
When this.
When that.
When
when
when
when

THIS is the life I am living. Here and now. And it is a gift from a God who loves me more than my tiny brain can fathom. A gift so big, I can only unwrap it in tiny layers, and I haven’t even begun to see a drop of this Life’s glory. (Because He is the Life.) Do I think I deserve something better than the oceans of grace He has flooded onto my life?

I AM TIRED OF WAITING.
I am DONE waiting for joy.

I remember when we were waiting for Amelia, God began to whisper to my heart that I wasn’t REALLY waiting for Amelia. He whispered this to my heart: “You are waiting to see ME.” Yes. I see now that I was! And wow… how He is now showing Himself to my open, starving, begging-for-more-of-Him heart.

I thought we would see God most in the wait. In the trial. But oh, thank You God! The real miracles in this heart of stone I carry have begun in the days since we got home. God is going to change me. I know He is. He wants to show Himself to me. To us. To whomever is hungry for the Only True Joy.

I will leave you with an incredible quote from the book I am currently obsessed with. I now think this: During the painful darkness of our adoption wait, I was in the cleft of the rock, being shielded from God’s consuming glory by His covering hand. But now… oh chilling miracle… He has lifted His hand so I can look upon the back of a Holy God passing by.

Wasn’t that too His way with Moses? “When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back” (Exodus 33:22-23 NIV)
Is that it? When it gets dark, it’s only because God has tucked me in a cleft of the rock an covered me, protected, with His hand? In the pitch, I feel like I’m falling, sense the bridge giving way, God long absent. In the dark, the bridge and my world shakes, cracking dreams. But maybe this is the true reality: It is in the dark that God is passing by. The bridge and our lives shake not because God has abandoned, but the exact opposite: God is passing by. God is in the tremors. Dark is the holiest ground, the glory passing by. In the blackest, God is closest, at work, forging His perfect and right will. Though it is black and we can’t see and our world seems to be free-falling and we feel utterly alone, Christ is most present to us, I-beam supporting an earthquake. Then He will remove His hand. Then we will look.
Then we will look back and see His back.
Yes, God. Help us look back and see YOU.

____________________________

 

Rachel has been married to her husband Brad for 5 years. They have a 3 year old named Caroline and a 1 year old named Amelia, whom they recently brought home from Uganda. God has used Amelia and adoption to show His love and glory to the Goode family. You can follow their story on their blog.

It was this week 2 years ago that we learned of major changes in the Ethiopia program. We learned that the process was going to slow down and that there could potentially be a waiting time of “years“. We had already been in the process for 9 months (with paperwork and home study), on the waitlist for 3 of those months, and I can remember the way I felt like it was yesterday. We were devastated  I couldn’t quit crying. I was asking “why?” more than I would like to admit and I was angry. We had already “wasted” so much of our time and money trying to get pregnant again. Then God called us to adopt and guess what? We were excited about it. We gave up our dream of more biological children and accepted God’s plan for us to adopt. So why in the world was He allowing this to happen? This delay, this heartache, this series of unknown events….why? And on top of that, what were we going to do? How could we wait for years? Were we on the wrong path? Was our child somewhere else?

Devastated and confused.

(You can read some of the posts I wrote around that time  HERE)

But you want to know what else I remember about that time? I remember how so many of you rallied around us. You prayed with us and for us. You signed a petition. You wrote me notes of encouragement. You loved us well.

I also remember my God who loved us well. My God who calmed me down and reminded me that He was/is in control. My God who assured us multiple times that we were on the right path and that our child is indeed in Ethiopia. My God who has continually met our needs from day to day and given us the strength to endure. My God who has helped us to find joy and purpose in this wait.

Obviously we are still waiting. 2 years and 9 months since we started this process (2 years and 3 months on the waitlist) and still no baby. And we are still more than ready. And we are still tired. And we are still longing. But there is one thing we are not still doing. We are not asking “why?” anymore.

And not because we fully know the answer to the question “Why?” We may never fully know until we meet our Savior face to face. But that unrest that used to be in my heart is not there.

Oh, I still get frustrated. And I even still get angry sometimes. And every single day I tear up and long for our child. Then there are the times that I wrestle with God over the wait and the time frames, over my desire to be in control.

But when it comes to the overall journey that we are on, in some way, I really think I have peace.

You know in scripture when it talks about “a peace that passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7)? Well, that’s the one. I think I’ve got it.

Not every moment of every day. But it’s there. And in the times when I’m struggling for control, when I’m frustrated over the passing time, the Holy Spirit really and truly fills me with that peace. And He reminds me that there has already been great purpose in this journey, and that the best is yet to come.

And I believe that. I believe that the best is coming. Even if hard is mingled with the good. I believe God has his best in store for us. And I can’t wait to see it!

One day when this child is home and when he/she is old enough to ask me “Why? Why did you wait?”, I know some things that I can tell him/her for sure.

 

Why?

Because God’s will is more powerful than my own.

Because my heart needed work and my Heavenly Father was gracious enough to take the time to do a major work in me.

Because God wanted to open my eyes (and your daddy’s and Hayes’) to the orphan crisis and He wanted us to know that life is not about us.

Because God the Father wanted me to know God the Son in a deeper, more intimate way.

Because there is a power in prayer that I wasn’t experiencing because until YOU I really hadn’t been on my knees, not really.

Because I needed to cling to Jesus and not let go.

Because God wanted us to experience the JOY that comes through pain.

Because God wanted me to learn how to love others and He did that by sending others to love us well.

Because my entire view of life, of others, and of this world needed to change.

Because God wanted us to let go of our plans and embrace His.

Because He had created YOU for our family since the beginning of time and he was weaving our stories together.

Because you are mine.

Because you are worth it.

You were worth every tear, every delay, every minute of the wait. You. Were. Worth. It.

And one day when I am telling our child these things I will know the answer to the biggest question I have right now.

When?

Because, at this moment in time, that is my biggest struggle. That’s what I wrestle with now. Wondering when.

And to tell you the truth, I think it’s time!

Praying that the Lord moves mountains in Ethiopia, that he changes hearts of leaders (all over the world), that he removes bars of iron (Isaiah 45), that he knocks down gates and opens doors, that he provides paperwork and sets our child and many others FREE. And that through it all, the world will see that HE alone is God and that He alone deserves all the glory, honor and praise.

Pray with me??

 

Meg and her husband, Shaun, have been married for almost 10 years and have one biological son, Hayes, who is 5. For the past several years, God has taken Meg and Shaun on a journey through infertility and He has used that journey to open their hearts to adoption. In June of 2010 they began the process to adopt their next child from Ethiopia and to this day they are still waiting expectantly. You can follow their adoption story on Meg’s blog, “Go and Tell“.

 

“Go around and introduce your child and then say I love him or her because ____________.”

That was the ice breaker, and I had about 30 seconds until I was up.

This is David, and I love him because he’s really smart.

This is Emily, and I love her because she’s so kind and caring.

I’m up. And, I played along.

This is Drew, and I love him because he’s so silly and funny. And, this is Ashlyn, and I love her because she’s so helpful all the time. And, this is Lydia, and I love her because she is mine.

Isn’t that how I should have answered it for all of them?

I recognize my children need to be affirmed—probably because I recognize my own need to be affirmed. Words of affirmation are my love language.

But, what we were asked to do by filling in the blank had a fundamental flaw.

I don’t love Drew because he’s silly and funny. I don’t love Ashlyn because she’s helpful. I don’t love Evan because he’s sensitive and gentle. I don’t love Lydia because of how she lights up a room. I don’t.

I love them because they’re mine, and I’m called to love them. God has given them to me; and, in so doing, He has given me the very significant calling to love them. Sometimes my calling as a mother is easy, and love overflows. Other times aren’t as easy and I feel the internal resistance to continually pour myself out. Regardless, I’m still called to love—not because he’s gentle, not because she’s smart, not because he’s funny, not because she’s creative. It is really more about me than about them. I love; they are simply the receivers of that love.

If God humored us with joining our ice breaker, how would He fill in the blank?

This is Kelly, and I love her because she is mine.

If a million words of affirmation were spoken over me, 999,997 would be unneeded. She is mine. They’re the only 3 words I really need.

But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. Titus 3:4-5a

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Forever changed by our experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly is a stay-at-home mom/manager to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (editing and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed, and what life for them looks like on their personal blog, My Overthinking (where she’s going to have some super sweet giveaways this month, by the way).

All day long I have little voices constantly asking me questions. “Mommy, why can’t I have another piece of candy? When are we going roller skating? Can my friend come over and play? Why do I have to clean my room EVERY day? Where’s my planner? What’s for dinner? When can I get a brother? And WHEN IS DADDY COMING HOME????”

Don’t you ever wonder if God doesn’t just feel as exasperated as I do when the questions come firing at me one after the other? I know that there are many days I must sound just like my children, asking God why and when and how over and over again. Man, do we ever want answers!!

In the book “Glorious Ruin”, Tullian Tchividjian says “Our hope is not ‘Jesus plus an explanation of why suffering happens’ or ‘Jesus plus an explanation about why you have this job, that spouse, those circumstances or this pain’. Our hope is that God is especially present in our suffering.” Our hope is Jesus. Not Jesus plus an explanation.

Ouch. I confess, sometimes I just want the explanation.

And if I can just be frank, the Church in general (myself included) stinks at not wanting to give an explanation for everything. We think that life should be neat and tidy, just like God. But guess what? I don’t think God is neat and tidy. I think God is a beautiful mystery who is often experienced most closely and intimately in times of suffering and anguish. I believe strongly that our inability to simply sit alongside a suffering brother or sister, in love, without offering explanations is hurting us. It perpetuates the feeling that those who are in a “dark night of the soul” so to speak, simply need to believe more for answers so that they can get out of the darkness and fast. There is no room for struggle or sorrow or pain. And that is so unfortunate, because it can be precisely through that darkness that God ushers in the deepest revelations of who He is.

“There’s a tempting notion that if we only grasped God’s will more clearly; if we only knew something we don’t know now, our wounds would hurt less. But the Gospel is not ultimately a defense from pain and suffering; rather, it is the message of God’s rescue through pain. It allows us to drop our defenses, to escape not from pain, but from the prison of how and why to the freedom of Who.”

I think when we see “Who”, that ultimately every other question we have either gets answered or fades away in the light of God. We find Him to be sufficient.

And let’s not mistake darkness or the wilderness times for things to be hurried through. As much as we may very well want to get the heck out of there, God has something for us in that space that we might not otherwise find. I think about the stupid, beautiful Israelites in the book of Exodus, who were rescued from slavery, then wandered in the desert for forty years, wavering in unbelief despite the miraculous hand of God and His presence with them. When they entered the Promised Land finally, they were a people marked by suffering AND rescue. I have to believe that God was shaping them during those years – that they walked into the Promised Land a people of deeper faith and character. And so shall we, friends. So shall we.

It’s not answers we need. It’s Presence. So, may we seek the “Who” and not the how or why. And may we be faithful to point each other to the One who rescues through pain and reveals Himself even in the darkness.

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Amy is a business owner and adoptive mommy whose heart has been broken and expanded by loving orphans in Ethiopia.  She blogs at Love the Least of These because there is power and transformation in sharing our stories with each other.  She and her husband, Ben, and their three children make their home in Colorado Springs where Ben works in orphan advocacy for Children’s HopeChest.