Category: Family Stories

Personal family stories

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One Year

One year ago today, our daughters arrived at an orphanage.

Frightened. Having lost everything and everyone they’d known.

Thousands of miles away, Rob and I were waiting with empty arms and hopeful hearts. In prayerful expectation over the children who we believed God had for us.

But today…

Today, those two little girls are four and a half months home with their mommy and daddy who love them like crazy.

Today, two sets of little feet came pitter-pattering down the stairs, and two sleepy, smiling faces peered up at me and said, “Good morning, Mommy. Daddy at work?”

Today, those two little girls snuggled up on the couch with me as we watched Sesame Street.

Today, I painted two sets of miniature fingernails and toenails.

Today, I had two helpers in the kitchen.

Today, I heard “please” and “thank you” and giggles and laughter. And even “You’re so cute, Mommy” and “Awwwww, Daddy – so cute, Daddy.”

Today, many hugs and kisses were exchanged, and many more “I love you’s” were expressed between those two little girls and their mommy and daddy.

Today, we are family.

It is amazing what can happen in a year.

Oh, how I love our little family. These girls could not be more perfect for us. Every part of the road that brought us to our daughters has been worth it. The waiting, the disappointment, the waiting, the heartache, the waiting. All of it is being redeemed. Daily. And, I believe that every part of our daughters’ journey is being redeemed, as well.The Lord has blessed us beyond measure.

…put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption.

Psalm 130:7

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Elya Starek

Elya and her husband, Rob, have been married for 6 years and reside in Cleveland, Ohio. They have recently been blessed with two incredible daughters, ages 3 and 5, who they brought home from Ethiopia this past April. They also have two crazy but lovable dogs. Stop by Elya’s blog to read more about their daughters, their adventures as new parents, and their passion for orphans and the poor.

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Bag of Grace

It was May 6th, just over two weeks after we had found out that our dreams of adoption had been nothing but a delusion. We had been deceived. Defrauded. We had spent thousands of dollars to bring two sweet babies home.

Only those babies had never existed.

The

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Oh, For Grace

I love that old hymn that says, “Oh, for grace to trust Him more.” The chorus says, “Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him. How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er. I’m so glad I learned to trust Him. Oh, for grace to trust Him more.” And, I am living that desire right now.

JT left today for Guatemala for another 2 weeks (he had been home for 6 days after a 2 week stint in New Mexico). He left very early so he kissed us all goodbye while it was still dark. I woke up but sadly, the kids did not. That makes this even harder for Z and E.

So, today was the day when Z decided he would push me to my limits. We spent 3 hours this morning in a boxing match of sorts. He wanted to do anything and everything to push me away. The mentality seems to be that he wants to see how much it will take to make me stop loving him. I don’t give up that easily. He pushed, and I hugged. He hit, and I administered discipline in a loving way. He screamed and I prayed. He screamed louder, and I ran the vacuum cleaner (and prayed too). He threw himself on the floor and I sat him right back up. Over and over again, this boxing match continued.

All I could see over the course of those hours was a spiritual battle for his soul. I would not give up. I knew God was greater. My other kiddos can tell you that I was talking and praying aloud to the Father. “God, you know how much I can take, and I feel like I’m on the cliff and he is kicking me over….” I know that I cannot do this without the grace of our Father. He sustains. And, He won that battle.

Then, the war began to rage this evening. It lasted for at least 18 hours…it felt like 3 days…I think it was 2 hours total. Z started a new technique…laughing at everyone else, taunting me with discipline, and repeating every word that is said (but in a blah-blah-blah way). Nothing was working. Nothing. I was beat down to the core and showing the scars of the battle.

I sat him in my lap and had him face me. As clear as I could see, I recall a picture of my friend Keri holding her little girl Eden when she picked her up in China. What I remember from that picture is that Eden was screaming bloody murder, and Keri was crying for Eden. It broke my heart yet gave me a glimpse into the very heart of our Heavenly Father.

I told Z that my heart was sad for him today. I know that he missed Poppa and that he didn’t like it when Poppa was gone. I told him that I know he doesn’t have the words to explain or share his sadness. I told him that I loved him. And, then my eyes filled up with tears as I just said that I was so sad for him today. I saw a look in his eyes that I haven’t seen before. Tears rolled down my face, and he began to wail. We just cried together. We must have looked like a snotty mess (thank you God that all of the other children were merrily making up beds and cleaning upstairs)….. I held him and we continued to cry.

Then, we prayed that God would heal his heart and be His Heavenly Father. I begged God to show grace and patience to me so that I could give it to Zeke. Oh, Father, I beg you for grace to trust You more!

It’s not always easy…sometimes it is painful….sometimes it is ugly…sometimes it hurts like I cannot explain. But, our Father is good, and He has a plan. I don’t understand it, but I know and trust that He is holy and He is just and He is Sovereign. Oh, for grace to trust Him more.

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Sheryl Turner

We are a family living by faith for the sake of Christ alone. We have 5 children; some are biological, and some are adopted. We forget which ones are which. Our children are 14, 12, 7, 5 and 3. We are living to make His name known among the nations–follow along on our personal blog.

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I Was Minding My Own Business

Well, technically I wasn’t or I wouldn’t have been reading this blog about another person’s life.

However…

I was minding my own business,

strolling through Google reader,

perfectly happy with my life of four little girls,

glad that I had survived thus far in the whole adoption experience,

so satisfied that all of us were alive and thriving,

and I still possessed some sense of my sanity…

and then I saw this picture on a blog I follow…

and I knew.

I knew alot of things in that moment.

I knew that adopting Lily is one of the most wonderful life experiences I have ever had,

(It’s right up there with salvation, meeting, and marrying my Leading Man, giving birth, but different and unique from all of those and one that has changed all of us collectively, as a family.)

that I would be robbing all of us to not take this adoption journey again,

that the issue is really not, “why would we do this again,” but “why not?”

I knew that I WANT another child because I truly love being a mother. And having a child grow in my heart instead of my womb has truly been one of the most powerful things that has ever happened to me.

I knew that this hasn’t been an inconvenience to my family but has only made us stronger, fulfilled us,

and the life of these children is too precious a thing to waste because of my own selfish comforts.

I just want to read this book, can I just take a bath without interruptions, I DO NOT WANT TO DRIVE A VAN!!!

All the arguments, they are really so futile.

I have truly believed I was done until this moment.

I thought I had done what God had wanted me to and now I was finished.

But, this picture has completely revealed to me that we need to adopt again…

heck, that as CRAZY as this sounds to myself,

and literally at this moment I am shocking myself

I WANT to do this again. I believe there is another child out there for us.

And not only that, I am POSITIVE I think we should adopt an older child some where between Girl #2 and Girl #3.

I guess this is the point that I tell the Leading Man…

but wait…

that is going to make it REALLY official!

Am I seriously considering this????

Help me Lord!

This sounds completely ridiculous, but these are my stupid arguments at this moment:

  • I kind of like this even number thing…
  • We just got a new car, and we will be filling our last open seat. Won’t it be too stuffy? We can’t get another car, we just got one…and I am NOT driving a van!
  • I still feel that I am making so many mistakes with Lily why would I subject yet another life to the torture we know as, Anna???
  • That would mean more years I go without being able to read a book, travel with just my husband, take a quiet bath…
  • Isn’t it too soon? Won’t I be robbing Lily?
  • People are going to think we are crazy.
  • Wait a sec, am I doing this for blog love or because I am addicted to the exciting experience???
  • I don’t want to go back to China…maybe we can go get a child from Africa…that would be good, huh???

God: Shhhhhhhh!

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Plan A

Adoption is not Plan B.

Not for us.

We have never looked at it this way, but in conversations with quite a few well-intentioned folks, I realize that the general population often views it that way.

“You know you’ll get pregnant as soon as you finish your adoption.”

“I know a lot of people ‘your age’ who are looking toward adoption because they can’t get pregnant.”

“Do you want to have your own children?”

I’ve learned that adoption is often viewed by many (on the outside looking in) as the consolation prize. Plan A didn’t work. So you’re settling for what is available.

I disagree and so would all the other adoptive parents I’ve ever met.

There is no Plan B.

The journey to adoption is NOT a surprise to God. He’s wasn’t caught off guard by the reasons or the path. For some it’s infertility or health reasons. For others it is how God calls them to add to their family.

For us, it’s because God is made it ABUNDANTLY clear that we are to adopt. Now.

Many people assume because we are adopting first that biological children are not an option for us. At this point, we have not heard otherwise, so we hope to welcome a freckled, type-A, northern/southern hybrid into our lives one day.

But whatever happens, it will be Plan A.

We are adopting now because there is a need, and we have a call. In the DRC alone, there are 5 million orphaned children.

We could not get that figure out of our minds and hearts. There was no reason good enough to hold off on adopting until we had biological children. We couldn’t stop talking about adoption. We needed to start the process.

We know it doesn’t make sense to most of the world. God made it clear, so we’re just following.

Any child brought into our home, biological or adopted, will be real and be our own. We pray that others will come to understand that as well, but we also know that we have the privilege of telling the story of redemption and grace each time someone questions our family dynamic.

The story of Plan A for our family.

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Leslie Word

Leslie has been married to her husband Brian for a little over 2 years. They live in Montgomery, Alabama where Leslie works for a nonprofit agency and Brian is a student pastor. They are passionate about caring for the orphan and have helped start ONEfamily, an adoption, foster care, and orphan care ministry in their church. Their free time is made up of watching football, eating Mexican food, and spending time with their rambunctious puppy, Knox. They have chosen to adopt first and are currently awaiting a referral of one or two children from the Democratic Republic of Congo. You can read more about their adventures here.
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Get ready.

As part of celebrating one year of WAGI, this next week will feature encore postings from a few of the most popular posts from WAGI to date. Whether you are new around here or have been reading since August of last year, you won’t want to miss these.

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Good Grief

We could not believe that we had been so deceived.

After months of preparation for adoption, first through foster care, and then from a birth mother who had approached us at church, we were within days of our twins being born. Only there were no twins. There were no babies at all. The birth mother was not even pregnant. We had been robbed, deceived, heartbroken.

Grief. The dark hole of the soul that seems to have no limits to its depth. My plans, my dreams, my joys, were ripped out from under me and my heart tumbled in a free fall into the murky pit of grief.

I mourned the children that never were. Though they had names, they had never existed. How do you grieve someone who never existed?

I grieved motherhood. For years, I had prayed that God would make me a mother, and I had believed that I was at last realizing that dream, only to have that dream snatched away.

I mourned my plans. My plans were to spend the first half of the summer devoted to being home. Though I knew the crazy schedules and sleeplessness would be exhausting, those disruptions were desired and loved. Now, I would have to take on a tremendous load of work

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Wondering

I pray for you often. I wonder when I walk the streets if you are the one. Are you the one I sat by at lunch today or passed at the market? I wonder if you are the shadow outside my window peeking in or the noise I hear in the bushes at night? I wonder if I haven

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Hearts Connected

As we walked along the paths to the play yard, in search of our daughter, it was never far from our minds that this was our last day with her. Her groupa was already headed outside, but once we caught up with them and called her name, a moment unfolded that I hope to never forget.

We called her name, she turned, spotted us and her face lit up like the sun itself. Her whole entire countenance changed as she began running toward us. As soon as I saw her face shining, I got down on her level and received her into my embrace. My heart was full.

Our play time together was just like any other day, but we were treasuring every moment. I felt like Mary in Luke 2:19:

But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.

As we played, it was clear she had learned over the days to anticipate our every move. She would get to the top of the slide and wait, slightly lifting her arms, expecting one of us to come up behind her, slipping our arms under hers, enfold her into our embrace, count to three in Russian and then slide down in glee.

When we would begin to climb the stairs, one of her hands used the rail, the other stuck out in anticipation of the filling with our bigger, stronger one to help her up.

She would sit on the swing sideways and quietly listened as I told her of her new family and sung to her. Sometimes she

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