This time last year, I was sad, lacking hope, worn out from the wait, and my heart was breaking (as shown by the picture to the left). Why? Because on the other side of the world, my daughter was turning 2, and I wasn’t with her. She didn’t even know I existed, and there I was wishing desperately to be with her even if only for that day. I knew I couldn’t just sit and cry as her birthday came and went so I gathered my friends and family and threw a party even though she wasn’t home. It was amazing how my “tribe” surrounded me on that day with such hope toward the future and reminders that HE WHO PROMISED IS FAITHFUL!!
A few months later, we moved from that familiar place into the unknowns. It was then when we got “THE call.” The day had come, we were going to meet our daughter finally!
But today we set up the balloons, prepared the food, iced the cupcakes, and set out plates and napkins just like before except the guest of honor was in our midst. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I was overwhelmed with gratitude that she was with us this time and though I cried again today, it was from joy and not sadness. I looked around at the “tribe” God had placed around us this year, every single one a new face but just as encouraging and loving of our sweet little girl. We even had family in from Texas, Kentucky and my best friend drove up from Alabama. It was a truly memorable day.
The theme? Balloons. To some that may not mean anything since balloons are a birthday staple. But to me it was a symbol of how far she had come. You see, the day she came home and we were greeted at the airport, she was given a balloon. In reaction to it she screamed, cried and tried to run away from that floating colored thing. But as time has gone on, and she has been exposed to much more, she has learned that not only are balloons safe but they are fun. So the balloons were symbolic of how far she has come in so many areas and a reminder that someday Jaydn will see her forever family as not only safe but fun too.
She was quite the ham today and willing to take the 3,000 pictures I made her pose for. She enjoyed pulling the tissue paper out of all the gift bags but I would have to make her remove the actual gift from the boxes since it was a new concept to her. She loved getting to blow out a real candle (instead of the ones from Jovies wooden play cake set) while everyone sang happy birthday to HER! She devoured her cupcake and was glowing from all the attention and laps she got to sit on all day.
I would like to be able to say that we always have a very happy, harmonious family. But that just ain’t the truth. Now, before Caden came along I probably could have gotten away with that statement a little bit easier. My older three kids all get along really well together and there’s very little arguing between them. That relationship does apply to Caden and the oldest two. They have formed the sweetest bonds, and Chloe is like a little Mama to Caden. And Eli is just a wonderful big brother all around.
But Caden and Eva…that’s another story. There has been a rivalry there almost since the beginning. My mother-in-law attributes it to the fact that Caden replaced Eva as the “baby” of the family. I think it’s a whole lot more simple, though. Caden and Eva are both pretty good at dealing out their share of crap, and neither of them has much patience for anyone’s crap but their own. Eli and Chloe are two of the sweetest, most laid back children you will ever meet. Eva and Caden are both impatient and want to call the shots. They are perfectly happy as long as they’re getting their way…but if one of them’s not, then there is a problem. And truth be told, if one of them isn’t getting their way the other is usually to blame. When it was just the older three, Eva could dominate a little bit more and the others just went with it. And Caden always gets his way where the oldest two are concerned. But Eva can’t dominate Caden, and she doesn’t give in to him. 🙂
The relationship between Eva and Caden is the one I worry about the most. For example, awhile back Eva said to Chloe, “You can have Caden and Cora will be mine when she comes home.” Chloe did put her foot down on that one and insist that Cora gets to be her sister too. And Mama explained that a family doesn’t work that way.
Last night, we went to a party thrown by some adoption friends of ours. There was SO much to entertain the kids that Mama could send them on their way and talk adoption with the other ladies. Andrew had to work all day…and into the evening…yesterday doing inventory at work, but I didn’t sweat it. We were on a few acres with hayrides, bounce houses, zip lines, a rock wall, one of those bungee/trampoline things, and all the hotdogs and smores a person could ask for. Our hosts had even hired some people to help manage things.
I was chatting with another mother of five about Cora’s adoption, when all of a sudden Eva ran up to me in tears. I could tell by her demeanor (and lack of drama) that whatever this was, it was serious. I didn’t even have a chance to ask her what the problem was when she sobbed out, “Caden’s in the bounce house and it’s going down.” I looked up, and sure enough…the bounce house that Eva and Caden had been playing in while Eli was on the zip line and Chloe was doing the bungee thing had TOTALLY collapsed. With my baby trapped inside. The generator providing it with air had run out of gasoline. I took off running, and the woman I was chatting with followed right behind me. We climbed into the bounce house, both of us searching for Caden. There was no sign of him.
I stuck my head outside and asked Eva if she was SURE that Caden was in there. She assured me that he had been playing by the slide. Sure enough, in the back corner there was a huge pile of plastic that had once been the inflatable slide. By this time, the crowd had been alerted and others were trying to help. The “staff” was trying to get the compressor going again so that the bounce house could be aired up, while some men and I were on the outside of the bounce house trying to manually pull up the plastic Caden was trapped under. Finally my new friend (who was still inside the bounce house searching) saw Caden’s foot and grabbed hold of it, pulling him out from the pounds of plastic that were smothering him.
As soon as he was loose, I ran back in the bounce house to get him. There was just enough air inside by that point to remind you of a deflated waterbed or air mattress, but with some of the men holding the top of the bounce house up for us, we were able to get out. And right there…waiting for us when we came out of the bounce house…was a still hysterical Eva, and her slightly less hysterical older siblings.
In that moment, I knew the grafting was complete. My worries had been in vain. There may be rivalry. There may be disagreements and drama. But Eva’s heaving sobs last night communicated something to me…my little BROTHER is in danger, and I’m upset about it. She didn’t want to trade him in for someone else, and she certainly didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. He was a part of her, and she was a part of him.
Until…of course…a little “squall” erupted between them this afternoon. 🙂
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Tara Anderson
Tara Anderson began a journey of grace over 20 years ago when she walked the aisle of a little country church and gave her heart to Jesus. She is a stay-at-home mother of four, the youngest of whom was adopted through the China Waiting Child Program in November 2010, and they are waiting to bring home Cora who is currently at New Day Foster Home. Not too long ago, Tara knew exactly who she was and exactly what she wanted out of life…but now she’s just trying to figure out who God intends her to be, and what He wants from her. You can get better acquainted with Tara on her personal blog, Following Our Leader.
In case heavy blog posts and fear or even the realities of adoption may lead you to question if adoption is worth it…
Consider these pictures as food for thought:
These are the first pictures we received, and a recent picture of each of our precious little ones
The other night, I showed Silas this first picture we received of him and said, “Hey, Silas, do you know who that is?”
“That’s Nicholas” (the name given to him by the orphanage), he replied. “Daddy, is he sad?”
“Not anymore son…not anymore.”
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Jen VanderStoep
The VanderStoep Family lives in Northern, CA in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains. Craig and Jen have been married for 7 years and have four Children: Noah (6), Silas (3), Maela (2), and Naomi (19 mo). The VanderStoeps love Jesus and serve him with their whole heart (though surly it is imperfect). They enjoy, whenever the bigness of family allows, getting out into the outdoors and enjoying the beauty of the Sierras. They are a rag tag bunch but by God’s grace there is love to cover it all.
The first time I met you, you were asleep. It was naptime and all the infants at Hannah’s Hope Ethiopia were swaddled all cozy in their Moses baskets in the common area. Except you. You were too big. So there you were in that miniature crib on the end, sleeping all soundly. I knelt down next to you and touched your face. And I marvelled at those impossibly long eyelashes.
Should I wake you up? I longed to hold you. But I do not believe in waking sleeping babies unless you are saving them from an emergency like a fire or tornado.
So I waited, trying to soak in the moment. (Which was smart because it was the last time you would sleep that soundly for about two years. *wink*) Then I heard it. Here in this place where I was so far from my world… where everything felt so unfamiliar… I heard these familiar words playing softly on a nearby radio.
Every blessing you pour out, I’ll turn back to praise
And when the darkness closes in, Lord, still I’m gonna say
‘Blessed be the name of the Lord. Blessed be your name.
Blessed be the name of the Lord. Blessed be your glorious name.’
You give and take away… You give and take away.
My heart will choose to say… ‘Lord, blessed be your name.’
This song, of all songs! This, I knew, was His gift to me. This very song… that was on our lips and in our hearts through every step of your adoption process. When we wanted to worry but sang instead. When we wanted to fear the unknown but worshipped instead. When things we held so dear seemed surely to be lost… and by His grace alone, we learned how to praise His name in the storm.
It was one of two moments that week that I felt God’s presence in a way that I simply cannot explain in words.
Then because Daddy and I could wait no longer, I picked you up and held you close. Slowly, those big brown eyes opened… wider… and wider… and wider. And for about six months or so, that was your signature ‘look’. Eyes, wide as saucers, taking in the world around you, all the while clinging tightly to Daddy and me. And, us clinging, too… clinging so tightly to Abba Father. (Eyes mostly drooping from lack of sleep and delirium.)
As I sit here today in this quiet place and remember these things I have ‘treasured in my heart’, truly all I can think to say is this… Blessed be your name, Jesus.
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Haley Long
I am a recipient of amazing grace. I’ve been married 11 years to my husband, Scott. We had 2 children, Isaac and Zoe. Then one day God met us both in the same moment and broke our hearts and filled them with love for orphan children. In 2008, we brought our son Beniam, now 3, home from Ethiopia. We are currently in the process to adopt a little girl named Mei from China. I am a Florida girl who loves sunshine, water, and sand. I enjoy almost anything you can do outdoors, especially in the mountains. When forced to stay inside, I love to read and write.
Three years ago, Kevin and I began pouring every last second into thinking, researching, and praying about adoption. We became more and more certain that God was calling us to adopt a child from Ethiopia. As the journey progressed, we found out He intended not one but two sweet boys to be our sons and a certain verse became my theme:
With this in mind, we constantly pray for you, that our God may count you worthy of His calling, and that by His power He may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by faith.
2 Thessalonians 1:11
As our adoption journey drug on, I became more and more aware of how necessary God’s power would be to bring our boys home. We knew He had prompted us by faith to adopt these children and so, in faith, we continued to trust that His power would prevail and the boys would one day be our children. On July 21, 2011, we stood in a family court here in Louisville, Kentucky to finalize our adoptions, and we saw God’s good work fulfilled. The proceeding was more of a formality than anything else, but for me, it was a moment to worship. My amazing God, the God of the universe, called little ole me to travel across an ocean and make two boys who were not my own my beloved sons. He purposed, He called, and He fulfilled. Oh, how I love Him and how I praise Him for His power and His beautiful ways.
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Laura
Most importantly, I am a Christian, saved by God’s grace through faith in His Son, Jesus Christ. I am also happily married to a truly great guy, Kevin, and we have four adorable kiddos, Mikias (7 years), Molly Kate (4 years), Miles (3 years), and Madden (15 months). I”m a home school mom but in my spare time, I love reading, running, cooking, and interior design. In the year 2010, we went from one to four children in a matter of four months. While we would have never planned it that way, I am so thankful that God”s ways are higher and better than mine. Everyday, I can see how God designed each one of us (biological and adopted) to fit together in the most wonderful way. My prayer is that our family will always be a sweet aroma of the love of Jesus to those around us. Come on by and visit us here.
When I was waiting all through 2010 to begin our adoption there was one friend in particular who always had time to mentor me.
Her name is Debbie. She is a Mama, too. She has 4 kids. 3 were born in China. And, Debbie always said the one thing that prospective adoptive parents all want to hear: my day would come.
Debbie would send me emails long before we knew Rissa existed that ended with: “Just think! You are one day closer to Rissa!”
Debbie is exceedingly special to me. Debbie made me believe in my own dream.
When Debbie and I would talk, I would be listening for hope and she would hand it over generously.
Once during a marathon-length-talk, Debbie said: “Esty, don’t despise the timing being ‘off.’ There’s a reason you are meant to go whenever you go.”
Now, I knew why Debbie had said this. When she brought home their #4 from China, they were denied travel and had to wait another 6 weeks to travel with an entirely different group of adoptive families to China. It had been over Christmas that year, and she had been sorely disappointed. But, during that trip to China in January, they met another adoptive family…and in time, Debbie was instrumental in a miracle for this family.
I knew Debbie was right. But, really, I believed that she was right about her situation. Maybe not so much about mine.
When things fell outside of my perfect timeline, I was frustrated and blinded by consuming desperation.
MY TIMELINE MUST WORK. Or so I behaved.
When all was said and done The. Timeline. worked beautifully,
This adoption has been a long journey for us with lots of unexpected turns. To be sure, other families have endured much longer, much worse. Different countries have programs that run upwards of 10 years. Other parents have lost savings accounts, friends, years, referrals, children. We’ve read stories that absolutely drained the blood from our faces.
So ours is certainly not the worst story; but, it is ours. And, it’s the only one we have to tell.
As I look back over the last year and a half, I see a rhythm between God, our leader, and us, His clueless followers. The tune changed as the story unfolded, but the rhythm stayed the same.
It started after God made it *crystal clear* that we were to adopt two children. We applied for two kids. We got approved for two kids. We planned for two kids. We prepared our bio children for two kids. We told everyone we were adopting two kids.
And then we got our referral. For one girl.
Our referral call. This is not how parents’ faces are supposed to look on this happy day.
Yes, this girl was beautiful. Yes, she was the perfect age for our family. Yes, we died over her shy smile (that was a clear fake out). Yes, her story broke our hearts and reminded us why we decided to adopt older children in the first place.
But where was our second child?? We were positive about this one. We couldn’t have missed God’s leadership on the two-kid agenda; it was one of those ridiculously clear moments where you either respond obediently or prepare to be immediately struck with cholera.
So this rhythm emerged:
“God, we’re confused.”
And he answered, “I’m not done yet.”
As we begged for clarity and tried to decide if we should reject this referral out of sheer blind obedience, God nudged us toward the same darling boy we’d been eyeing on the Waiting Children’s List, the one with the 1000-watt smile, on a waiting list for his crime of being 7 years-old.
God reminded us, “Yes I said two, but I never said they’d be related. Go fight for that boy.” Fight? Oh, I’ll fight alright. And, we got our boy.
This was Ben’s picture. Please note the Run DMC shirt. Destiny brought us together.
So three cheers! God really had a plan; an unconventional plan that required a half-crazed Mama who would enter the ring and use words and persuasion to win a referral. We had not one but two kids after all! And they happened to be the two cutest kids in the whole country, which we considered our prize for actually completing the 700,000 page dossier.
Fast forward to March 10th, that blessed court date. Now understand that I had already informed God that I didn’t want to be “one of those families.” The sad, sorry folks who didn’t pass and had all the troubles and waded through messy bureaucratic drivel and watched as everyone else passed them like they were going in reverse. The ones that clogged up the Facebook feed with bad news and had to answer the same questions twenty times a day about any movement? and who seemed like they had lost the will to live.
I mean, I thought I had made that clear.
So when Remy passed that very day like she was just taking a leisurely stroll through Central Park on holiday – exactly how I told God to work it out – we were devastated when Ben didn’t pass. Devastated. And the rhythm repeated:
“God, we’re confused.”
“I’m not done yet.”
We’d seen other families who didn’t pass court get their clearance within a week or two, so we naturally assumed our happy phone call was coming any day now. Remy was submitted for Embassy. Any day now. One month. Any day now. The court asked for additional documents on Ben. Any day now. Remy was cleared for travel in April. Any day now. We turned in some other official decrees. Any day now. Two months. Any day now. Three months. Please, God. Please. Any day now. “It doesn’t look good for this case.” Any day now. Crying, begging, pleading, cursing. Any day now. Four months. No. No.
“God, we’re confused.”
“I’m not done yet.”
Let me be fair: When I recount our line as “God, we’re confused,” that sounds tame, almost like a little old grandma who got lost at the corner of 5th and Lamar until a kindly police officer asked if he could help her and she chuckled and shook her head and said, “Well I guess I got a little confused!” and they shared a knowing laugh about who can figure out all these confounded streets down here? and he pointed her west and she made it to her destination just in time for the quilting guild.
When we said “we’re confused”, it involved crying and wailing and days when I couldn’t get out of bed. It included a string of months where, I swear to you, time stood still. I sobbed over other people’s happy adoption news as I typed nice words on their Facebook pages. It included a phone call from my mother-in-law after my daughter told her, “I’m worried about my mom.” My hair started falling out in clumps and my fingernails peeled off in layers. I lashed out at Brandon and my kids and Jesus on bad days; on worse days, I wondered aloud if God had any control at all over this chaotic, broken world. I doubted his invervention and questioned his sovereignty.
So yeah, that’s what I mean by “confused.”
And then we got this: “We’re getting a rejection letter for Beniam’s adoption, and we think you should consider coming to get Remy.” No. No. How could this possibly be our situation? How? We were the compassionate mother who refused to split the baby in half even if it meant separation from us. How could we go back to Ethiopia and fly away with just one of them? How could we break our son’s heart like that? How could God possibly be in this? Is he just mean? Has he forgotten us? Has he forgotten Ben? This is not the story we signed on for. This chapter stinks. I’m starting to hate this book.
“God, we’re confused.”
“I’m not done yet.”
In the dead of night as I sobbed into my pillow, begging God to comfort our son as we prepared to travel for Remy, he delivered “Love Ben” fully developed into my mind. And if you’re the believing type who buys the “God works all things for good for those who love him and are called according to his purpose” stuff, then you might not be surprised to hear that we witnessed hundreds of moments of glory through Love Ben.
Hundreds.
Like the 80-year-old outspoken racist who set his alarm for 1:00am to pray for Beniam at the start of the Ethiopian work day.
Like the multiple emails I got from adopted adults who were prompted to reconcile with birth parents, deal with decades-old wounds, and find peace.
Like the birth mother whose heart God healed after giving up her son 17 years ago.
Like the entire church who highlighted Ben’s story and set up a Love Ben Photo Booth after both services.
Like the college friend who told me she was praying again for the first time in 20 years.
Like the bundles of you who emailed to say you’ve decided to adopt.
Like the mamas and daddies who taught their children about orphans and God’s mercy and used Ben’s little face as a tangible tool.
Please believe me, these could go on and on. Rays of God’s light kept bursting through the dark. Just when I though my heart would expire, I’d get an email that said, “I told Ben’s story at the camp we’re running for foster kids, and they broke out in spontaneous prayer and singing for God to rescue him.”
Evidently God can wrestle glory out of the hard parts of the story.
Ben passed court the week before we traveled to get Remy, but our agency prepared us for egregious delays and possible litigation at the Embassy stage because of his rejection letter (I assure you, this had nothing to do with his orphan status). So, Brandon and I prepared for a fight.
Then we flew to Ethiopia. And held our son while he threw up and sobbed in our laps and clung to our necks, as we drove away with Remy, his only family on the same continent. And all the bravado disappeared into sorrow. I cried for 24 hours without stopping.
“We’re so confused, God.”
“I’m not done yet.”
Are you sure, God? Because I’m pretty convinced all our hearts are broken. Is there work left to be done? Is there something we can’t see? Would you please just assure us that you haven’t forgotten Ben and our family? Can we trust you to make this beautiful? Because it doesn’t feel beautiful. It feels aching and devastating and horribly unjust. We believe you but we can’t see.
But let it be said that God is still in the miracle business. As our agency prepared to submit Ben for Embassy, they were asked to try to secure his approval letter one last time, attempting to avoid the cluster ahead of us without it. Just as a courtesy, our agency went back to the government office, the same one who refused to write the letter for five months, in an effort I dubbed “the biggest waste of time on planet earth.” They’d made their position clear on Ben’s case, and had already died on this hill if you will.
They wrote it.
They wrote it on a Thursday, and Ben was submitted for Embassy the very next day. With all his paperwork intact. Every last piece of paper. They cleared him for travel 4 business days later on Thursday, and Brandon got on a plane 3 days later.
This is what God does.
When God said He wasn’t done yet, He just wasn’t done yet. He wasn’t speaking in code. It wasn’t a trick. The story was still in the middle, but I wanted to flip ahead to the end, past the conflict and struggle and straight to the happy ending. As Keeper of the Story, God knew the whole plot. He promised us way back that He planned on seeing these two children all they way from brokenness and abandonment to our home in Texas, an unlikely journey if ever there was one. And at the risk of whitewashing the difficult middle, we now have them here. He was faithful.
God doesn’t promise us a clean middle part of the story. He never said we wouldn’t encounter antagonists and drama and surprise twists and heartbreak. We weren’t assured a G-rated plot where good feelings are peddled and no one dies or leaves or fails or waits. God promised things like healing and restoration and redemption. Which implies there will be injuries and broken relationships and losses. When He speaks of beauty from ashes, He seems to know there will be actual ashes to resurrect beauty from.
If you are confused right now, if your story isn’t going the way you thought, or if you’re tangled up in the messy middle where hope is deferred, dear reader, it could just be that God isn’t done yet. Your story is not finished. Every hero and heroine must wade through the conflict to get to the end, and you can trust God because he is good. If you have nothing else to cling to, remember this: God is good. He loves goodness and justice. He heals and redeems. He is on the side of love and beauty. He is for you. He is never against you. You may be against you, other people may be against you, but God is not against you.
It is okay to be confused; I’m afraid that is our lot as finite creatures dealing with an infinite God. Some of God’s best heros were confused in their subplots. But I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on. Because God is good and he is for goodness.
And He just isn’t done yet.
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Jennifer Hatmaker
Jen Hatmaker has partnered with her husband Brandon in full-time ministry for 15 years, and they pastor Austin New Church in Texas. After a nauseating stint as an entitled, bored Christian, Jen and her family joined the battle for those on the margins. They pioneered Restore Austin, connecting churches to local and global non-profits for the individual, collective, and social renewal of Austin. Jen is a popular speaker at retreats, conferences, and seminars all around the country. She is the author of nine books and Bible studies, including Interrupted: An Adventure in Relearning the Essentials of Faith
This time last year, I was sad, lacking hope, worn out from the wait, and my heart was breaking (as shown by the picture to the left). Why? Because on the other side of the world, my daughter was turning 2, and I wasn’t with her. She didn’t even know I existed, and there I was wishing desperately to be with her even if only for that day. I knew I couldn’t just sit and cry as her birthday came and went so I gathered my friends and family and threw a party even though she wasn’t home. It was amazing how my “tribe” surrounded me on that day with such hope toward the future and reminders that HE WHO PROMISED IS FAITHFUL!!
She was quite the ham today and willing to take the 3,000 pictures I made her pose for. She enjoyed pulling the tissue paper out of all the gift bags but I would have to make her remove the actual gift from the boxes since it was a new concept to her. She loved getting to blow out a real candle (instead of the ones from Jovies wooden play cake set) while everyone sang happy birthday to HER! She devoured her cupcake and was glowing from all the attention and laps she got to sit on all day.
I remember the joy that I felt when I first learned that I would have a little sister.
The first time I met you, you were asleep. It was naptime and all the infants at Hannah’s Hope Ethiopia were swaddled all cozy in their Moses baskets in the common area. Except you. You were too big. So there you were in that miniature crib on the end, sleeping all soundly. I knelt down next to you and touched your face. And I marvelled at those impossibly long eyelashes.
It was one of two moments that week that I felt God’s presence in a way that I simply cannot explain in words.
