While we were at the beach, Anthony and I took Hailee and Harper out of the water for a little break before they totally turned into raisins. We were lying in the shade giving them a snack. Haven was with us too. Anthony looked at the three kids and casually said, “So, these are the three who will more than likely stay with us forever.” I nodded yes. Perhaps they will be with us until God takes us home.

The “empty nest” question is one that tends to come up frequently. People ask us how we feel about knowing that we may never be empty nesters. I know that it is something that every family considering adopting a child who may be unable to live alone as an adult needs to think about before committing to bring them home.

For us, it is not something we think about or talk about very often these days. The topic obviously came up when we were considering bringing Haven home. We knew there would be a strong possibility that Haven would never be able to live alone, and we needed to seriously consider how we felt about that. And so we did.

These days things are different for us. The empty nest thing is not something we ever really think about. I don’t know, maybe it’s because our lives are so busy and crazy that we never have much time to sit and ponder what our future may or may not look like. Or, perhaps, it’s because God has given us such peace that an empty home is something we may possibly never have.

How do we truly feel about the possibility of never being alone without kids in the house? Well, we’re so perfectly fine with it. We believe that God calls us all differently. I will never become a lawyer or an orthodontist (heck, I really should though with the amount of money they charge to put a piece of wire in someone’s mouth!), and I would absolutely make the worst accountant ever because even my son’s fifth grade math confuses the dickens out of me. I don’t even know if God will ever call me back to working full time outside of my home. Our calling is different than others. He calls us all individually–and when He does He equips us with everything we need to accomplish the mission and gives us absolute peace on the journey. This is our mission. And, with this mission comes a future where Anthony and I may never be alone. For us, it is just part of the journey to be faithful to fulfill what God has told us to do.

Raising the children God has asked us to bring home is a calling for us. It is what the Father has told us to do in this life. We know our future is in His hands. He has taken away any desire that was once there to be empty nesters. We just don’t think about it anymore. We know that Hailee, Harper, and Haven may live with us forever, and that’s perfectly okay with us. When we’re enjoying our golden years in the RV across America, we’ll have three extra passengers, and that will make the journey even more fun.

Besides, we really believe in living each day the Lord has blessed us with to the fullest–whether we have seven kids at home or three. Will it always be easy? Heavens, no. There will probably be many times when Anthony and I will long for moments alone together. But I know my God–I know that when those times come, He will always provide a way to bless us with the desire of our hearts. He’s just so good like that.

We feel so blessed, not by earthly possessions and material wealth we have accumulated but because the Almighty Father has chosen us to be the parents of these three precious children who will more than likely need us to be with them (or near them) forever. What a joy it is going to be to share the rest of our lives with them. The thing that brings me the greatest joy in all of this is knowing that they are here with us, not in some orphanage all alone. That’s what really matters.

Who knows what our daughters’ futures are going to look like? Not us. We have no idea how their lives are going to unfold. And so, we continue to take one day at a time and allow the Lord to have His will and His way in their lives and ours.

May our nest always be full to overflowing. I’ll take it any day!

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Adeye is a mom to seven children, three biological sons and four

It’s hard to even believe that this picture was taken on December 28, 2009. Maggie came to us as a quiet, floppy, shocked little girl. She had no idea what was happening and, really, neither did we. We had no idea what a complete joy and blessing Maggie is or how much we would love her immediately. We also didn’t know she was deaf. Looking back at our China pictures now, I see how Maggie was so confused and detached. She couldn’t hear what was happening around her, and she had to have been scared to death. She did not respond to her Chinese name or to our voices. She did not take a bottle for 3 days, got very constipated, continually looked at her hands, and laid her right ear down on tables or floors to hear the vibrations. (She preferred to lay down on the floor rather than sit up.) Her little body went through so much as she grieved and tried to understand what was happening. I think her way of dealing with all the changes was to just shut down. How could she have known that we were going to love and care for her, that she would have a forever family and all the hugs and kisses she could stand. She couldn’t. She didn’t. But, that is okay. We have taken it slow; and, day by day, we have watched her unfold like a beautiful flower.

Her special need was multiple. A heart condition (a small VSD, ventricular septal defect) and microtia/atresia which we later found out was also severe hearing loss (a.k.a. deaf). We were told she could say “ba, ba, ba,” smile, and stand on her own and that she was lively and liked musical toys. All the pictures of her showed her to be a healthy looking little girl. We had done all the research, read special needs blogs, attended a seminar on what to expect when you adopt internationally, and prayed a lot for our daughter.

I remember when I first saw her through the curtain at the adoption center in Guangzhou. Maggie looked a little like her pictures; but, really, she looked very different. I saw her head was crooked to one side, her facial expression was out of sorts, she had what looked like bug bites on her face, and her head was oddly misshapen. Chuck and I waited til it was our time to officially meet Maggie, and she was first handed to me. With a pink toy duck in one hand, I reached out to Maggie. Finally, I was holding my baby girl. This was the moment I had dreamed about for so long. There was a big smile on my face, and my heart was beating so fast. I took a good look at her. I loved her so much already, and it was evident Maggie had some things to overcome. She was more like an infant than a 14 month old. She would lean way back when I held her, and she stared at her hands constantly. At one moment, I stopped to pray and tearfully thank God for Maggie. I asked for wisdom to be her mother, and I prayed that Maggie’s pain would be washed away, that she would know she is accepted and not rejected. It was a crazy Gotcha day, and I was so overcome with emotions and questions. Was she ever held? Did she ever have toys to play with? Just how neglected was she? I thought she was lively and talking? What really went on in her orphanage? I had a feeling that Maggie was severely neglected. I was right. I also watched her intently and knew that she was very smart, and she was a fighter, chosen by God to be my daughter and destined to overcome her special needs. I saw it. I knew it. My heart felt it.

Although we did a lot of research on what to expect and knew the self-soothing and floppy, flat affect was “normal” for a child who was institutionalized in an orphanage in China, nothing could really prepare us for the reality of it. You see, Maggie was just another baby in the orphanage. She probably spent over 20 hours by herself in a lonely crib with no toys and no sounds. She learned not to cry and to soothe herself by rocking back and forth and looking at her hands.