Recently, I had a candid chat with a friend of mine who is parenting former orphans. It was Mother’s Day, which is one of those slightly awkward holidays when you aren’t the only mommy your child has ever had. She has also faced infertility, making it an even harder day. She was overwhelmed by the loss and brokenness that accompanies adoption. Hurting for her children, but also herself, at the years of life she didn’t get to see.

The hard thing about loving someone so much it hurts is that, well, it hurts. When you think about their loss and pain, you just ache and wish you could take it on yourself.

Sometimes the brokenness is overwhelming.

Sometimes it’s maddening to think about all you’ve missed.

Sometimes you just want to tell your child, “YOU are remarkable. Your life has been harder than just about anyone I know and yet you have somehow come through it all with a tender heart.”

Sometimes you actually do tell your child that.

So, what do you do with all of the grief and loss and brokenness?

Gloss over it and pretend it didn’t happen? Sometimes that’s a good option, frankly. It’s sort of hard for kids to heal if they’re reminded all the time of their wounds. But, obviously, that’s slapping a bandaid on a big, big hurt.

Where I’ve noticed the greatest moments of redemption are in the firsts. Which are (ironically) usually the most painful reminders of all that’s been lost. I didn’t get to see my child’s first step. I don’t know how much be weighed at birth. Or when he got his first tooth or said his first word. I grieve all of that, but I cannot focus on it. That wouldn’t help anyone.

So we manufacture firsts. We choose to celebrate the firsts that might seem insignificant to others.

The first unsolicited hug.
The first time he had ice cream and winced at the cold with every bite.
The first time he pushed away a plate of food without pleading for more.
The first time he saw the ocean.
The first “I love you.”
The first time he went to a movie.
The first time he fell asleep without clinging to me for dear life.
The first time he celebrated his birthday.

We make a big, big deal out of these things.

We see the brokenness for what it is, which allows us to stand in awe of the wholeness that comes out of it.

This healing – it doesn’t come from a family, although that certainly helps. It doesn’t come from a book or counselor or therapy method.

It is God Himself who takes these little lives and makes them whole again. He redeems all the lost firsts and shows us that sometimes the manufactured firsts are even better, because they remind us of His goodness.

________________________________________

Lara is a Jesus-loving, book-reading, coffee-drinking, kid-chasing farmer”s wife of 5 years. She and her beloved farmer, Jon, have three kids: Cade, Ambrose, and Ellie. They brought their most recent addition home from Uganda in October 2011. Follow along on their journey at The Farmer”s Wife Tells All.

We joined the “Century Club” today (meaning we have been waiting 100 days to receive our letter of approval/acceptance from China to adopt our daughter). Thankfully, not too many adoptive families achieve this status, but for whatever reason, our adoption journey includes being a part of the “Club.” I know in my heart there is something beautiful and wonderful that will come out of this wait. There is a purpose. And there is an end. Not today, but some day the wait will be over, and our Little One will be home.

When this season ends, I hope I am more like Jesus. Refined. Stronger in my faith and character. More equipped to meet the difficulties and hardships the next season is sure to bring.

God is so faithful in encouraging my heart as I wait, whether it be through a promise in Scripture, the gift of a darling Chinese doll, a phone call from a friend, or the opportunity to send a box of supplies to my daughter”s Healing Home.

So, while I never dreamed we would reach Day 100 without our LOA and I am sad, I decided to celebrate 100 today with the kids.

We counted 100 steps.

We ran  down the road for 100 seconds. (During this 100 seconds, the dog managed to get sprayed by a skunk. Stinky!!)

We dug for treasures in our 100 year old barn.

Ori told me he had 100 treasures. I”m pretty sure he does.

We played in the 100 degree heat (it”s sooo dry!!).

Ori and Calla each strung 50 Cheerios on to a pipe cleaner to make 100 (then they ate 100 cheerios, I”m pretty sure).

I”m thinking ice cream might be necessary tonight. Maybe we can each lick our ice cream cones 100 times?

It”s a good day. Resting in the fact that my God is faithful, all-knowing, and good. Even the heartache of joining the Century Club is for my good.

______________________________

Julie is a former middle school teacher turned stay-at-home mom who is passionate about children. She and her husband, Ian, have been married for 8 years. They have two biological children, both born prematurely. God placed adoption on Julie”s heart as a child and it was something Ian and Julie discussed off and on throughout their marriage. However, when their daughter Calla was born at 26-weeks and faced many challenges, they became interested in special needs adoption. Currently, Ian and Julie are waiting to bring home their precious 17-month old little girl from China. Julie blogs about motherhood, adoption, and toddler activities at Breezy Acres Farm.

I can always tell when we are starting, praying about or in the middle of an adoption.
I know because of the paper work that lies about,
the emails that clutter my inbox,
and the anticipation that seems to linger in the air.

But more tangibly, I know because the whole world seems to go awry.
The axis of the earth seems to tilt,
the Super Moon graces us a bit longer
and our house starts to come alive.

Not like the house in Ammityville,
but alive with activity
and none of it is the good kind either.

On our date night last week, The Hero and I discussed our second adoption.
We made some very direct goals and hard decisions.
Almost immediately, our house responded.

The vacuum cleaner sparked and died on Friday.
Behavioral issues abounded with our children.
The washing machine keeled over Saturday morning.
And Monday we awoke to the air conditioning units refusing to pump cold air.

The repairman told us both units would have to be replaced.
(For those of you who have not replaced one in quite some time,
it’s about the same cost as an international adoption).

The Hero met me at the door on Monday, smiling.
I found nothing to smile about.
But as we sat at the dining room table,
we started talking about our last date night.
And I started laughing.

Our house was under attack.
Literally.
Spiritually.

While The Hero called our insurance,
I called our adoption agency.
And sent them some money.
And just for good measure,
I made some small financial gifts to some of our favorite places.
And prayed over our house.

It’s Thursday morning.
The Hero called me from his car.
The a/c repairman just left.
Units are fixed and pumping.
And it’s covered by our insurance.
His only words “give thanks baby. This was all HIM today.”

The Hero found a part for the washing machine.
And fixed it for less than $30.

Behaviors have been identified and specifically prayed over.

The only total loss was the vacuum cleaner.
But considering it was almost 12years old,
it didn’t seem like too big a loss.

Whatever is keeping you from adoption, remember:
THE DEVIL HATES IT
AND WILL TRY ANYTHING TO STOP IT.

Ephesians 6:12 “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rules, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

________________________________________

We are a family of God’s perfect design. With two adopted angels (2, 5) from Ethiopia in 2010 and more on the way soon. The Andrews family are one of three founding families of LoPa Art, buying Ethiopian art fair-trade and proceeds benefiting an Ethiopian non-profit, currently serving 210 orphans in Korah, a trash dump outside Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Lovers of gardening, advocating for Children’s HopeChest, swimming and traveling to Africa, the Andrews continually seek to connect those they know with the things they love. Mommy is a writer, lawyer, speaker and chief laundry distributor. Daddy “The Hero” is a fireman, handyman and human jungle gym. “The Angel’ is now eight and loves reading, drawing and dreaming about buying a bunk bed. “The Dinosaur” is now four and stomping his way through home, hearts and life. The family is loved by Jesus and protected by a french bulldog, Walter. Mommy blogs at www.africaboundandrews.blogspot.com