Stripping Away Layers {Resting in His Faithfulness}

It’s been 6 months since we moved to the farm:) What we call the farm anyway. Little by little–we are making this place our home. It’s not easy making updates with homeschooling and 5 children under 10, but each time we put our mark on something–it feels a little more like home…like it fits us.

This weekend.

Oh the lessons.

Bit by bit we can do updates–and this next month, it will be the carpet upstairs. Removing 10 years of someone else’s stuff and replacing it with clean, new carpet. I decided to help the cost a bit by ripping up the carpet on the stairs. Only–my projects never, ever seem to help the cost. Some times, just add to it.

So on Thursday I decided to just rip it up. It was no easy task. And I’ve got battle wounds to prove that. Scraps all over my arm from those staples left in the carpet as I twisted and pulled and pulled some more. On Friday–I started sanding. Then that night–I stained. And uh oh. Applied Minwax. NEVER. EVER. EVER. EVER. apply Minwax stain to stairs or floor or furniture until you have every speck of stain completely removed. Or else. You are left with a sticky mess. That must be paint thinned off. Washed and scrubbed and sanded AGAIN.

Then you just grab a can of paint and say, “Forget it!” and paint the stairs grey. And you aren’t sure how it will look–but at this point you don’t even care because you just need them to not be sticky and send little feet all over the house with traces of stain all over them.

Don’t get me wrong–seeing little footprints throughout the house this weekend has been sweet…even mine:) BUT–that’s just not what I was going for.

It. Has. Been. A. MESS!

Richard assures me that in the end–it will be beautiful. And the perfect fit…because it has our stamp and hand all over it. But right now…it’s quite a mess.

And last night. I sat in my driveway as the sunset and cried for the first time in a very, very, VERY long time. But not about the stain. Or the stairs. Or wishing I could go back to 3 days ago and just let the carpet folks to it as we had once planned. Instead…it was over the hard in the now of helping little ones heal…

I’ve missed every soccer game for my oldest this season because my littlest ones either need naps or they aren’t able to sit and watch without running on the field…or having a tantrum because of sensory overstimulation. On Friday we missed a Nutcracker ballet session because of dealing with lots and lots of layers…and in the mess of trying to talk through the layers and why who did what and how that hurt someone else…something important was missed by another child.

Some times I hear those awful lines that only mean commenters or the enemy himself would say…you shouldn’t have grown your family again and again if you couldn’t handle it…didn’t you know adoption was going to be full of healing–you knew what you were getting into. The list goes on to the things we can hear–but none of them truth, encouragement, love or even reality. Because the reality is that the Lord did call us to this…it is more than we can handle…but it isn’t more than He wants to handle and plans to handle for us.

I sat there–stripping off layer after layer of stain.

It’s so hard. The layers.

It looked better being that old scuffed up carpet runner. But that was taken away. And the layers could begin to come off. I wanted it to look new. But it won’t ever look that way. So paint. And it will be beautiful–but not until all those layers come off.

And Richard comes in and hears me complaining as I paint the first layer…”Look how awful this looks on the side…I’m making such a mess. This is harder than I thought it was going to be. I just want to quit.”

“Why do you want everything to be perfect when you know you are in the middle of it? It won’t be until–you’re done. It will be–we just gotta get there,” he said.

The paint brush stopped.

And I thought of my children.

“Why do I want everything to be perfect when I know we are in the middle of it? It won’t be until–we’re done. It will be–we just gotta get there.”

The layers…the peeling away…the healing…the working through the effects of past trauma…IS NOT GOING TO BE EASY…or pretty or look perfect.

I know this is true about my stairs–but why can’t I grasp and believe it about something as grand as my family and children?

Then…I stopped to get ready for a Bible study with my Laney girl tomorrow. We shared our hearts and wishes and our wants.

Her wishes…my wishes…they might never be–but still we wished them…and my heart melted when she shared hers…and it was mine too. I tucked her in and went downstairs to put together scripture memory cards for the girls in our group–and this month…focusing on His faithfulness and perseverance.

Faithfulness…

Deuteronomy 32:4 “He is the Rock. His works are perfect and all His ways are just. A faithful God who does no wrong, upright and just is He.”

Psalm 33:4 “For the word of the Lord is right and true; He is faithful in all He does.”

Psalm 18:25 “To the faithful, You show Yourself faithful…”

Psalm 145:13 “The Lord is faithful to all His promises and loving toward all He has made.”

Psalm 57:10 “For great is Your love, reaching to the heavens; Your faithfulness reaches to the skies.”

Proverbs 3:3-4 “Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the table of your heart. Then you will win favor and a good beam in the sight of God and man.”

Perseverance…

Isaiah 40:28-29 “Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired and weary, and His understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”

Romans 5:3-4 “Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

1 Corinthians 13:7 “[Love] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

James 1:12 “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him.”

Those scriptures–I know are for the girls. But…tonight–how much they felt FOR ME. I sat there typing them away feeling as if I was having a little revival myself.

I can’t worry about tomorrow. Or what things might look like when our kids are teenagers or after. Will healing come? Will things be easier? Will they get who they are in Him? With us? Will I remember any of this myself because oh my…some days I’d just like to be normal–not homeschooling because of a special need or staying up late to learn attachment ideas or taking off the layers and layers and layers of stuff that we just aren’t promised a clear picture of what it will look like. BUT we are given in His Word a clear picture of what it is FOR.

For His glory.

For us to know Him.

To be shaped to be like Him.

To learn to trust in His faithfulness.

To keep going because He is in us and has gone before us.

Because healing is in HIS hands and not mine…and for that I am ever so thankful.

Even in the middle of the layers—when I want it to look beautiful but it’s hard—I can step back and see the beauty even in the hard. (Although tonight the word beauty wouldn’t be my first word to use). BUT…I know I will see it. And I’m starting to. Because it’s also MY layers that must be stripped away. The first layer–giving up wanting it to not be hard…or to look pretty in between the hard…and to just learn to embrace the ashes and the beauty all together while the transforming is actually happening.

Oh how I’m learning.

And instead of throwing my hands up in the air the next time the tantrum happens on the field or sewing needle is stuck in a brother’s back (ouch!)–I want to remember these are just layers. The taking time to bend down to look in their eyes…or rock them before–and even after nap time…it’s the new paint going on. When layers and layers come off–one layer of paint won’t fully cover it. Layers and layers and layers must go back on. It will take days. Years. Maybe even forever.

But He is faithful and good–and has a plan…and I trust Him.

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

― C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

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Andrea is a stay-at-home momma of five. who loves homeschooling her kiddos. She’s also a photographer and orphan/widow advocate giving of her time to Wiphan Ministries and ministering to adoptive mommas through Created 4 Care. She truly believes the Lord can use us all right where we ALREADY are to make a big difference in this world. You can read more of her writing at Babe of My Heart.

October 3, 2014October 3, 2014

Looking Back at Adoption

Adoption has been a precious gift in my life. To be a part of God’s redeeming and extravagant love for children, to be a part of the eternal work of the transformation of an orphan into a son or daughter–WOW! This is the ride of a life-time, and it only gets better with time–not always easier (sometimes, but not always), but definitely more powerful as the work of adoption reaches the deepest places in all of our lives.

What has gotten me so excited once again about adoption? It has been 14 years since we brought our first two children home, so you might think that the deep satisfaction and excitement might have worn into an every-day kind of thing.

But there come these special moments when I feel the Holy Spirit whispering to me, “Hey Beth, take a look at this! Are you seeing what I have been doing here? How beautiful is this?! Is not the love of God amazing?!”

1898056_10202664079836411_464559558_n-2 — Celebrating Russian Women’s Day

My daughter Kristina and I hosted a Russian tea recently with lots of Russian chocolates and other special goodies to help celebrate Russian Women’s Day.

Our guest of honor, Judy Grout who was visiting from Russia, was the missionary who taught Kristina English lessons in the orphanage. She shared the wonderful testimony about how she had been trying to get permission to minister in the orphanage our children were in for years and had been turned away repeatedly by the director. When Stephen sent her an email after finding the Vyborg Christian Center on the internet, and we developed a friendship, she went back to the director and asked if she could teach English to the two children who were being adopted by an American family.

The director agreed, and from that time on Judy has had an open invitation to minister in that orphanage. Many children have come to know the Lord, and many have experienced the love of God through this one door of adoption.

Beloved friends, we do not know what other amazing things God has on His mind when He calls us to adopt. We see that He is doing a work in us and in our child, but you can be sure that His plans reach deeper and farther than even the amazing depth of His love for your child and for you. Many of these stories won’t be told until we are together in eternity, but I am quite sure they will be told, and that our wonderful God will get all the glory. To our family, this one story is a taste of heaven.

1488295_10152004391697058_1760502225_n — Kristina and Judy

I sat there in our living room and looked at a sight that left me in awe again at who our God is.

These three beautiful young women all told a little of their stories of being adopted from Russia and Ukraine. Kristina (on the left), Elena, and Veronika sat together as friends who have been given a future and a hope through adoption. Just seeing them with those beautiful smiles spoke to me of hope and God’s extravagant love.

For those of you who are in the earlier stages of adoption and raising your children, know that there have certainly been some significant challenges in the lives of these young women and in their families. But also, be encouraged to see that in the midst of these challenges, adoption is doing it’s work in your child, and in you too! And it is a beautiful work, filled with hope and a future.

And then there is this photo–the story behind this never ceases to amaze me. It is a story of the “immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine…” (Ephesians 3:20)

1981870_10152004397107058_1098329460_n — Jenny Grout with Kristina and Veronika

On the left you see our dear Russian friend Jenny. She is married to Judy’s son, Joe. They met and married in Russia and then decided to move to America so Joe could attend college. Jenny had worked, and even lived, in some of the places our children had lived. And of all the places they could go in the USA (the Grout family has no family or real connections in Georgia), they ended up in Toccoa, Georgia! Jenny became a wonderful friend to our family, and to Kristina especially. She helped her make the huge adjustment to life in America and to life in a family and to life in the kingdom.

So, here is a young woman who not only is Russian, but from the same town as our children, who God sends to help them and us in the most amazing ways. Is this not extravagant? Seriously, I would never have thought to even ask God for such a gift.

I hope that these stories encourage you dear friends. God is at work in our adoption stories.

In the mundane, day-in-day-out realities of life, it is easy to forget that what is happening is a long story being told by the One who is The Beginning and The End of every one of these beautiful stories of sacrificial love.

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Beth has been married to her husband Stephen for 27 years. They have seven children, ages 18-24. Several years after giving birth to three girls God called their family to the adventure and blessing of adoption. In 2000, they brought home a brother and sister, ages 5 and 10, from Russia. Then they returned to the same orphanage 18 months later and brought home two more brothers, ages 7 and 10. Beth’s heart has been deeply and forever changed as she has watched the love of Father God poured out on her whole family through adoption. She leads Hope at Home, a ministry dedicated to help adoptive and foster parents encounter the Father’s heart for their families, partnering with God to transform orphans into sons and daughters. For more parenting insight and encouragement in the Lord, go to Hope at Home.

September 22, 2014September 22, 2014

A Lesson in Trust . . . the Adoption Wait

Waiting.

How many of us like to wait?

I’ve always disliked waiting. Even as a child, it was one of my least favorite things. I liked to know the ending of stories before I finished reading or watching them, much to the dismay of many family and friends (this is still true today, just ask my husband!).

I didn’t like waiting for presents. As a child, I used to scour the house every year looking for my mom’s latest hiding place for presents which were typically neatly packed in a lovely flowered cardboard box. Sometimes I was successful in finding “the box”, sometime not. One year I came home from school, walked back to her room looking for her, only to discover the “present box” open on her bed! Pure bliss!

Now that you’ve had a glimpse into my childhood, translate this to my adult life. I’m sure you can imagine all the lessons God has had to teach me in patience and trust.

Then, translate this again to the adoption wait. Nail bitingly difficult for me!

The wait for children has probably been one of the biggest opportunity for growth for me in my Christian life. My five-year struggle with infertility was a real trial and lesson in patience in waiting on the Lord . . . learning to trust Him and His plans, not my plans. Recognizing that it is all out of my hands was a huge adjustment but a necessary and important life lesson.

Once I had accepted His awesome and amazing plan A for our lives, adoption, the waiting began again.

As we begin our third adoption (yes that’s right, friends, we are in process on our third adoption!), I’ll let you in on a little secret. The waiting doesn’t get any easier!

You see pictures of this precious child that belongs in your family and all you can think about is how long each step of the process will take. How many months will you wait before you hold that child in your arms. Each passing day feels like an eternity, precious time lost. Moments and memories slipping by with you unaware. You wonder about your child’s needs, hopes and dreams, desiring to meet them. But it is all out of our hands. They are in the hands of our heavenly Father who loves them above all things and meets their needs in ways we never can, will or should.

So as my frustration with the wait has been building over the past few weeks, God spoke to me very clearly through my son who came to us two years ago from China at the age of 8. My mom asked him on the eve of his 10th birthday what he liked about America. He first said having a family who loved him (so sweet), but when my mom said, “Anything else?”, he said, “Oh! God!” He further explained that while in China he used to wonder if there must someone great and amazing who loved him. Just think, not only did my son wait 8 years to feel our arms about him, he waited 8 years just to hear the name of God. Talk about convicting!

So why I am focusing on the wait? Why I am obsessing over something so temporal? Why I am taking my eyes off Jesus, the author and finisher of my faith?

What if instead of focusing on the wait, I focused on God and His love for me and my new little one who is waiting too.

What if instead of lamenting how long adoption takes, I take that time to pray for my precious ones entrusted to me by God.

What if each time I cry out in frustration at the adoption process, I instead turn it into an opportunity to deepen my relationship with God.

It isn’t about us, it’s all about Him.

All in His time and for His glory alone.

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After struggling with infertility for 5 years, God led Suzanne and her husband Adam to His Plan A for their lives—adoption! Their daughter, Grace Lihua, came into their lives in 2011 from the Fujian Province, China. Their son, Anthony Jianyou, joined their family in January of 2013 from Shanghai, and another little girl will be joining their family in 2015 from the Hunan Province. After a career in politics, Suzanne is thankful for God’s provision in their lives that now allows her to work part time as a Pilates instructor while home schooling their children and working as a part of the WAGI leadership team. You can follow their adoption journey and life on their blog, Surpassing Greatness.

September 17, 2014September 18, 2014

Years in the Making

On August 12, 2014, we officially became a family of five.

The adoption of our daughter, Kariah Whitson, was finalized by a kind judge who has adopted two children as well.

I can’t put into words the feelings of the last nine months, but my husband Matt and I have written plenty about it already. What I haven’t written about is the journey to get to her. It was years in the making.

Excerpts from my prayer journal

April 2, 2009 (less than a week after Kariah was born): Lord, you know what I’ve been struggling with over the last couple of weeks. I need clarity please. I feel like we’re good parents, and you’ve blessed us so much. I feel like we should share that. Having four kids scares me to death. What if I don’t have enough time or patience to give them all the attention they need? Transracial adoption scares me too. What if we don’t know how to do that well? … I have so many questions. I trust you, God. I will not live in fear. If this is your will, you will provide the money. You will give us the patience and wisdom to raise them well. You’ll give us everything we need if this is your will for our family.

September 19, 2009: I’m so scared about adding more children. I love our family as it is, and I like having two. But more than that, I want your will for our family. You alone know what our family is supposed to be and how it should be formed. And if it’s what you want for our family, please place that on Matt’s heart as well.

November 3, 2009: It’s so hard for me to rest in this, not knowing what it means or how or when. I am trying to take my will out of it completely, and just be open to what you have for us. I want what you want. I want to not have the kids be really far apart, but you know what’s best. I don’t want to start over in 5 years, but you know the plan. I just want to play my part in it.

December 22, 2009: Thank you for the confirmation this morning. I am ready to adopt again. I want what you want for our family, even if it’s hard and requires sacrifice. I also want your timing, so I will continue to wait on Matt to be ready and feel like it’s the right time.

September 13, 2010 (after two potential adoptions fell through): If adoption is not what you have for us, please help me see that. Give me peace to close the door and move on emotionally. I want to be obedient, Lord, but I don’t know what you are saying. I don’t know why you’ve led us down the path you have, but I don’t have to understand.

March 28, 2011: I’ve been avoiding you, I’m sure you noticed. I don’t want to talk about the baby thing. I’m tired of talking about it, feeling confused, getting frustrated, and repeating that process. Nothing is changing. I can think it to death all day, but it comes down to me not understanding what happened two years ago when I felt so clearly that you were calling us to adopt again.

October 22, 2013: I’m not sure what to say right now. Here we are again with another adoption situation in our path. How many times are we going to do this? Please make your will clear to us. And for this sweet little 4-year-old girl, Kariah, please prepare her little heart for the changes she’s about to endure. Open her heart for her new family that she can attach and bond quickly. Comfort her in her inevitable grief. Give wisdom to her new family that they can love her well and support her in her grief and transition. And Lord, if she is to be our daughter, prepare us, prepare the boys, and give us peace and joy in the process.

October 23, 2013: Can we just talk about Kariah today? I’m feeling the weight of that more each day. Are we prepared to raise an African American girl? And a very wounded one at that? If this is your plan, equip us for that. If she needs to go to another family, prepare my heart. I’m tired of being disappointed. I’m tired of adoption situations coming before us constantly, especially considering our conversations about adoption 4 years ago and my confusion ever since. I keep waiting for it to make sense, but it doesn’t.

—

One month later, Riah was home with us, and it all started making sense. God did indeed change Matt’s heart. The man who wasn’t interested in adoption said he felt something change the moment he saw her picture. And when we met her for the first time, we both knew she would be ours. I wish I could say my faith never wavered, but I can’t. For four-and-a-half years, my faith and doubts danced together. You may have noticed that I often referred to four kids in my prayers. That’s because I kept thinking there would be two, and I still haven’t ruled that fourth one out. But I’ll just let God work and see what happens.

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Matt and Becca write about marriage, parenting, and life through the lens of a married couple, parenting team, and pastor and professional counselor. They share hope and restoration by giving a glimpse into their lives- the failures, the successes, and the brokenness and beauty of everyday. You can read more of their writing at WhitsonLife.

September 15, 2014September 15, 2014

The Fruits of Attachment Labor

While we were waiting to bring Sunshine home back in 2010 and 2011, I learned as much as I could about fostering attachment. I tried to memorize all of the attachment advice. Build trust by meeting needs quickly, check. Be the only ones to meet all of her needs, check. Love unconditionally, check. Don’t let other people hold her, check. Wear her for as long as she’ll let me, check. Cocoon for a few months after coming home, check. The list goes on, but those were the ones that stuck in my head. The ones I repeated over and over.

Sounds easy enough, I suppose. Except, it wasn’t.

I prayed a lot and became very close to God during that time. Sometimes I got the attachment thing right, but I failed miserably many other times. Occasionally, I felt isolated because most of our friends didn’t understand. Many of our extended family members didn’t understand either. Sunshine appeared “fine,” so I’m pretty sure a few of them thought I was being a controlling crazy person. It’s hard to put into words how much I desperately wanted to protect the bond with her! I should have done a better job explaining the attachment theories back then though. Maybe it would have made more sense to everyone else. I had only a few friends to lean on for support in those first months home. I relied on them and my husband heavily, and we pushed forward.

Fortunately, attachment came easily for Sunshine. I think her strength and bravery, coupled with the year with her foster mother really helped her thrive. I didn’t fully realize it then, but it was such a blessing! Over time, attachment became less of a concern as our precious girl blossomed into the child God created her to be. We became less intentional about attachment based on her cues, but I always remained protective. Hence, the reason it took a year and a half before I was ready to leave her in the church nursery.

Fast forward to this past week. Over three years home with us. It was a big week of firsts. First Mandarin lesson with a new teacher. First day of homeschool co-op with a new tutor. First day of Community Bible Study (CBS) with another new teacher. First day on the IEP with a new speech-language pathologist. That’s a lot of firsts, even for an adult!

And you know what? She rocked it. Every single new adventure I threw at her. Rocked all of it. When I picked her each time, she was beaming with a smile that clearly showed how happy she was. She has been asking for “dat Chinese wady” since her lesson. She has been singing the new songs she learned in co-op. And she said the only thing she didn’t like at CBS was “da bwocks” … I’ll call all of that a big win. I couldn’t have been anymore proud of her, she tackled it all so beautifully.

As I reflected on Sunshine’s successes this week, I thought back to those first few months home. The intentional attachment parenting was worth it. Every bit of it. To see her effortlessly thriving in so many new environments is absolutely priceless. I have a smile on my face just thinking about how well she did. It can be hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel on some days, but the fruits of all that attachment labor are paying off in such big ways.

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Nicole is a daughter to the King and a wife to an amazing man. She is a classical homeschooling mama to {almost} four, by birth and adoption. She is a part-time newborn photographer, a founder and adoption photographer at Red Thread Sessions, a contributing blogger at No Hands But Ours, and an advocate of orphan care and adoption. When she’s not with her family or behind her camera, she loves to blog, create, give life to old furniture, spend time at the beach, and read. She strives to live her life to glorify our Heavenly Father. With His love, all things are possible.

September 12, 2014September 10, 2014

Not My Dream

Is this really my life?

I fought hard against this calling.

This is not what I really wanted.

I wanted a simple life.

Holding a child in my arms who is thrashing against all my efforts to love is not what I dreamed for motherhood.

Continual disruptions of birth family visits, social workers, and court dates.

I signed up for this?

A child slipping into an infantile state and wailing for anyone else to come hold her besides me.

Anyone but me.

Muffled sobs against my shoulder that she wants her brothers who live with another foster family on the other side of town.

And I rock and struggle to draw her flailing form into my arms. She shrieks foreign gutteral sounds.

After returning from a visit with birth family. This is what happens. Last time it was projectile vomiting.

And I rock and whisper…

I know you are confused. I know you are angry. Mommy loves you. Will you be my baby and let me rock you?

Over and over we do this. My chest heaving with hers, our tears mixing a salty stream between us.

I hear it all the time: I could never be a foster parent. I just couldn’t let them go.

Really? Maybe God is calling you to foster care.

Seriously.

You want to know a secret?

I said the exact.same.thing.

Do you think we do this because our hearts are stone hard and we have a special gift in letting go? Or that we’re not fearful?

We’ve wrestled with every fear and reason why we shouldn’t do this. For years.

Even when we signed up for ten weeks of intensive training, we still questioned: Is this what we’re supposed to be doing?

We walked the tough road of watching my daughter’s best friend and her foster family. After three years, she went home to her mama.

Difficult circumstances. Gut-wrenching pain.

He pricked our hearts a long time ago. And in His perfect timing and plan, we jumped in. He used a friendship in my Kindergarten daughter’s life, along with our broken past to draw us in.

We decided we would start slowly by trying respite care- ministering to foster families when they needed a break.

We got a call before we were licensed. To take a seven-year-old boy for a week. That week rocked my world.

He was the same age as our middle son.

He endlessly spoke of his losses, his words permeating every quiet space. My ears burned with stories of his past– his mama’s choices, his grief.

My kids were carefree, laughing and talking about superheroes. An empty gap in the conversation erupted as this dear boy attempted to connect by sharing his stories of drugs, police, and guns.

Talk about a real-life superheroes. These kids that endure the worst of life and still keep going. Continuing to hope. They are the superheroes.

My boys fought like tigers all that week. The extra testosterone in the mix pressing against their comforts– their stuff (specifically Legos).

My chest was a cavity of shards every night I knelt down with him. He was a bundle of blankets and tears asking why. Every.single.night. Anguish and prayers for his mama.

I thought I would die. I didn’t know how to handle this.

Was this really where He was calling us?

His mama’s addiction was the same that caught my husband and our family in a net and almost destroyed our lives four years beforehand.

No mistake this sweet boy was our first placement. A ripping away of our comforts. A reminder of our rescue- what our lives could have been.

A bursting of our children’s comforts is not a bad thing. They are called to more, just as we are.

I am repeatedly caught off-guard by how children love with pure hearts. No agenda or to-do list.

My kids are big sinners, like us, but they are unencumbered by life or worries. A freedom to love without bounds that I don’t have.

Babies seemed to rain from the sky last summer. My kids spent the months of June and July bouncing fussy babies, feeding hungry ones, and bringing joy to little faces.

While this mama breathed into a paper bag, trying to regulate my oxygen level. Because it was hard.

Deeply loving other people’s kids. Adjusting to different schedules and stages of babies.

As my kids begged for more babies, my heart was doubtful. Unsure if I could handle and manage this calling.

So, we detoured–pursued adoption for six months, while we continued to serve as a respite foster family.

We thought adoption seemed safer, you know? Ha! Insane thinking- my adoption friends can tes.ti.fy to that…adoption bears it’s own heavy grief and uncertainties.

The Lord shut the door on adoption for us. We ran after every country and adoption agency known to man. He slammed that door tight.

I grieved all last summer. The realization set in– He was cementing our feet in foster care.

We couldn’t run from our calling, our passion. We couldn’t unloosen what He had sealed in our hearts.

And the phone call came in October.

Would we take the little bitty girl we loved with all our hearts?

The one that had us all wrapped around her tiny brown fingers.

She had occupied our crib more than any other child, spending countless hours in our home as respite.

Full-time foster care frightened us and kept me up at night, but we knew without a doubt.

We said yes to Little Bitty, jumping in with both feet and all our doubts and fears. Holding out empty hands to the Father. Knowing this was our calling.

We are not extraordinary.

We are normal, fearful, questioning, struggling, people.

Doing what He has called us to do.

Often with anger at injustice and shaking fists.

Much of the time with fear and trembling.

We are still standing.

Because He strengthens the weak-kneed.

Gives hope to the weary.

This is not the dream I had. His plans are bigger and better.

Because we serve an extraordinary God.

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Melanie and her husband, Kevin, have been foster parents for two years. During this time, they have had twelve children in their home. Foster care has challenged their family to look inward at their own brokenness as they seek their Savior to serve the *least of these*. Only by His strength. You can follow their journey on her blog Running to the Father.

September 5, 2014September 10, 2014

Chatting with my 25 Year Old Self {Summer Rewind}

When I was 25, my husband and I had been married for almost two years. It seemed like the perfect time to add children to our family. Little did I know the journey we were going to experience…

If my 25 year old self was sitting in front of me I would hand her a sweet and salty snack and cut right to the chase.

Your journey to becoming a mom is not going to be easy. You have a plan, but God has a different one for your family. You are going to cry a lot (even more than you already do) and have many ups and downs.

You will take more pregnancy tests than any one person should ever take. You will be consumed with wondering whether or not this month will be the month you finally see a positive result.

You will avoid certain people because every time they see you they will ask, “So when are you two going to start having kids?” Every. Time.

You will go to a fertility specialist to get answers and discover that there really are no answers…something they like to call unexplained infertility.

After two failed IUI cycles you will realize that God is calling you to wait. This will be one of the hardest parts of your journey. As you wait, women all around you will be getting pregnant. You will want so desperately to be happy for them, but on the inside, you will be a mess.

God will start putting a desire for adoption in your heart, but once again, there will be more waiting. Your husband will not be ready.

But hold on, 25 year old Abby. There is hope. Lots of hope coming your way.

You will look back on all of those tears that you shed and be so thankful. Those tears will bring you to your knees and draw you closer to your heavenly Father than ever before. Your faith will be tested and you will learn that He is good. Always.

Although the desire to become pregnant may never go away, God will miraculously take away the deep sadness of not getting pregnant and allow you to truly celebrate when others announce, “I’m pregnant!”

People are going to ask your husband, “When are you going to start a family?” and you’re going to get to hear him say, “I already have family.” It will melt your heart and make you love him even more.

And that sweet husband of yours? He will come around and say out of the blue one day, “Let’s adopt.”

You will begin the adoption journey with lots of excitement, lots of questions and a bit of fear, but you will have complete peace knowing that this is exactly the path God wants you to take.

Expectant moms will choose you and unchoose you, try to scam you and rightfully change their minds, but once again, you will have peace. It will be hard and you will wish you could be at the finish line, but you will have peace.

And then I would cut right to the chase again because I wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore and a would whip out this picture.

You would say, “This isn’t what I pictured.” and I would say, “Isn’t it so much better?!?!?!” You would agree…I’m sure of it.

I would tell you the stories of how God used two brave women to bring these two precious boys into our family. You would be amazed at God’s faithfulness and His creativity in writing these stories.

We would probably sit in silence for a bit with you trying to wrap your head around all that I just said.

With tears in your eyes, you would ask for the picture, hold it against your heart and say, “I’m coming for you boys. It’s going to be a long wait, but by the looks of things, you’re worth it.”

_________________________________

Abby and her college sweetheart husband Wes began the journey of domestic adoption in 2009. Blessed with a {more than they had planned but oh so thankful for it} open adoption experience, they were able to witness the birth of their first child Max in the summer of 2010. Little brother Sam joined their team in September of 2012. You can read their story at Akers of Love.

August 21, 2014August 21, 2014

There May Never Be a Good Time, but Now is the Time {Summer Rewind}

This has been a busy and exhausting week. We are hosting 2 sisters for 3 weeks at our home through Safe Families for Children. Some days I’ve laughed and felt my heart burst at my girl’s ability to share, love them, and be welcoming. And some days I’ve cried and felt defeated at our inability to get anywhere on time, the selfishness that emerges so quickly from the girls (and myself..ahem), and the death of our “normal routine.” It is hard but the best kind of hard. The kind of hard that Jesus asks of us so that we know for sure with every ounce of our being that we are not self sufficient. It has been almost one week and there have been days I was ready to say “this is just too much” but in those moments God has sustained. I have visited a friend who is on the journey with us and has 2 of the siblings from this family as well. I have remembered that when we come to the end of ourselves then God shows up and we cannot take credit. And He does things better and more beautiful then we ever could.

The timing may seem crazy but as I sat in the Safe Families conference last week I felt so convicted that I always can think of a reason why right now is just not the right time. And my reasons are pretty good ones: I’m still feeling sick, I am almost 8th months preggers, we have two kids, we don’t have tons of extra space. But as I examine my heart I know that those are excuses. The truth is there is never a “great time” to serve and love and welcome in a stranger into your home because it is messy. But yet that is exactly what Jesus calls us to do. It is so important to Him because it costs us something, it transforms relationships, and it requires us to live in faith and not just talk about it. It changes others but mostly it changes my selfish heart. I read that the Bible instructs us to love, welcome, and care for the stranger over 100 times. But yet I can always think of a reason why now is just not the best time. I cannot recall a time in recent history when I have sat happily on my couch while perfectly behaved children played in a completely clean home while dinner cooks in the oven. There will never be a “good time” to do this. Our life is messy and real hospitality means inviting people into that mess and chaos and saying we love you. We don’t love perfectly but because we are desperately loved and have received outrageous grace from our heavenly Father we gladly can extend what we can to others. The grace we have been shown is not just nice or great it is ridiculous and life changing. And it spills from us.

We want to support their mother in a difficult time and really show that we take seriously the command to love our neighbor as ourselves. You see it is easy for me to think I am pretty good at that until my personal space and time is threatened. It has been hard for us all to share our lives, our space, our stuff, and our time. And the opportunity to do so has allowed us to loosen the grip on those things. Anni and Evy are counting the cost with us and I am so proud of them. Not because they perfectly share but because they are struggling through and living what it means to love others. It has afforded us so many great chances to talk as a family and work through this all. I am bursting with stories and it has only been a week but this morning as I was puking in the sink and thinking to myself “I just cannot do this one more day” I saw this….

The girls getting their hair did and then Annikah brought me this….

A note the oldest girl wrote about her time here so far (we eat a lot of fruit…be still my heart).

And I remembered that God knows best and His grace is enough. And friends and family are supporting us in this and one will be here with pizza in an hour (crowns in heaven I tell you). It is these things that convince me more and more we are meant to live exhausted and spent for His glory but full of abundant love and peace because of His scandalous grace.

Boasting in my weakness because that is where He is shown to be strong.

______________________________

Roxanne Engstrom is a mama of 3; Annikah, Evangeline, and the newest little boy Abishai. Roxanne and her husband Jason now live in Chicago after returning from 4 years learning, loving, and living on a small island in Africa. They have a heart for adoption and supporting vulnerable families and are now back stateside after a failed adoption overseas. They are currently a Safe Family through Safe Families for Children and becoming Foster parents in the hopes of adopting. She blogs about their family’s adventures and what God is doing in their lives at www.roxengstrom.blogspot.com. She is grateful that even though the journey can be difficult God gives joy and promises abundance along the way.

July 24, 2014June 28, 2014

A Letter to My Daughter’s Birth Parents {Summer Rewind}

Dear Amanda and Conner,

I have no idea if you’ll ever read these words, but I have to write them.
I have to hope that, even if you never stumble across this blog or
open the card that we sent on your court day, you somehow know the way that
we feel about you.

I remember getting the call that you were at the hospital, Amanda. It
was June 28th- the day that we would meet our girl. I had
simultaneously anticipated and dreaded this day since May 16th, when I
first heard your voice on the phone. Although I was grateful to be
allowed in the delivery room when Piper was born, I was also unsure of
myself. Would I say something stupid? Would I pass out since
I’d never seen a live birth before? Would I be able to convey my
excitement about bringing home Baby Girl without rubbing salt in your
wounds? At least our case worker would be there to help us know
how to navigate this situation that most people never face…

Except that when Andrew and I arrived at the hospital, you only wanted the
two of us back there with you. Panic. I was honored that
you and Conner trusted and loved us enough to let us experience something
so special, but up to this point, we had depended on Bonni to help us know
what to say to you and how to act. Andrew put his arm around my
shoulders, and I quickly prayed for the kind of strength and wisdom that
could never come from me. Please don’t act like an idiot, please
don’t act like an idiot.

When we walked in the room, my fears were gone, and I immediately felt at
home. “Hey guys!” you grinned. Even in labor, you looked
beautiful and seemed calm.

In a few minutes, the nurse came in to see how far you were dilated.
She looked at Andrew and me, hinting with her eyes that we should
step out. We took the clue and started to leave the room when you,
Conner, looked at her and said, “No, it’s okay. They’re
family.” I wonder if you know how much those words meant.

Time seemed to stand still as we spent the next hour or so talking with
both of you and trying to wrap our minds around this huge thing that was
about to take place. Though we had met you before, those moments in
the delivery room were especially precious to me as we actually got to know
the parents of our little girl. In the moments away from the agency,
the paperwork, and the caseworkers, you became my friends and not just the
couple who had chosen our profile book. Conner, I learned that you,
like my husband, hate making decisions about restaurants. Amanda, I
learned that you and I are both somewhat obsessive about using the Weather
Channel app on our phones. It was the little things in that
hour-long conversation that made you both seem more real and made me love
you more.

When the nurse came back later, it was “go time.” Andrew and I stood
awkwardly at your head and stroked your hair as we tried to think of
something to offer other than, “You’re doing great!” Conner, you were
a natural. You knew exactly what to say and do to help your girl.
And Amanda, wow. You made labor and delivery look like a walk
in the park. I honestly expected so much anger and frustration, but
all I saw in that situation was love. I wish there was
a way for you to have stood back and watched the scene like we did.
Your relationship with each other is inspiring, and your affection
for a baby who you bore for someone else is, frankly, earth-shattering.
Those words that Conner whispered as you pushed, “Come on, Amanda,
this is the last thing we can do for her,” melted my heart in more ways
than you’ll ever realize.

Just 30 minutes after you started pushing, Piper was here. I cried
the happiest tears of my life as I took in her thick hair, her chubby
cheeks, and her perfect little body. Then I watched as the two of you
held her, and my heart broke. This was the reason why I had
been so afraid of our time together in the hospital. You clearly
loved her as much as I did, yet you knew that she wasn’t yours to keep.
You said that we deserved her, and I knew that wasn’t true.

The nurses came in and out to check on Piper as the four of us bounced back
and forth in our conversation between the trivial and the significant.
Andrew and I left for about an hour to pick up some food and to give
you two time alone with Piper. We got back to the room and ate dinner
together, and I found myself wishing (though I knew the impossibility of my
idea) that there was a way for the five of us to be the little family who
lived happily ever after.

The hospital prepared a room around the corner for Andrew, Piper, and me,
and we slowly collected our belongings to spend our first night as a family
of three. Before I went to bed, I walked down the hall to refill my
water bottle. Your door was open, and I stopped. Conner, you
were headed out briefly to get some fresh air, so I sat down in a chair
next to the bed for some “girl time.” Amanda, as I listened to you
share your hopes and dreams, as you talked about your friends, and as you
revealed your plans for college in the fall, I felt connected to you in a
way that few people will probably ever be able to grasp. Though we
didn’t always talk over the past nine months, we were in each other’s
hearts as we shared this journey. We have a unique bond: I wanted so
badly to be in your place (to be pregnant), and you wanted to be in mine
(“established” enough to raise a baby). There is no way to explain
those feelings to anyone else, but I think you know.

The night passed uneventfully, and I began to think about how the two of
you would be going home to a new “normal” in just a few hours. I
started dreading those last moments in the hospital. Finally, around
2:30, both of you came down the hall. This was it. Andrew and I
stepped out of the room to give you the space that you needed with Piper.
We held each other tightly and prayed for the words to say as we waited for
you to come out. About five minutes later, the two of you entered the
hall with Piper, and all the tears that I had been holding back came
flooding out as I looked at your faces. I never guessed
that goodbye would be so hard. Amanda, I’ve thought that you
are unbelievably strong throughout this entire journey, so seeing you
dissolved by emotion was almost unbearable. It would have been wildly
inappropriate to take pictures in the moments that followed, but the scene
will forever be captured in my mind as you handed Piper to me for the last
time and as you, Conner, hugged my husband like there was no tomorrow.
In those moments, every word I had rehearsed was gone. Each of
us knew that there was nothing to be said which could possibly convey the
feelings we had. In shaky voices and through blinding tears, we all
said how much we love each other. Amanda, you asked me to “take good
care of her,” and I promised that I would. Then the two of you walked
around the corner and back to your lives. I still cannot fathom
how a day can be so joyful and so gut-wrenching at the same time.

Andrew and I walked downstairs to the hospital’s chapel, where I buried my
head in his lap, and we both sobbed. I have never seen my husband cry
like that before. I had thought that I would be filled with guilt
when you two went home without a baby, but really I was just overcome with
sadness like I haven’t ever known. I was sad for you because of the
difficulty of your decision, and I was sad for us because I felt like we
had just lost two people who, in a matter of days, had come to mean
everything to our family. “Be still and know that I am God,”
the walls of the chapel read, and this is ironically the verse tattooed on
the wall of our bedroom at home. Both of us found it difficult to “be
still,” because our hearts were so heavy for you. We prayed over and
over for God to give you peace, and I still pray every day that you’ve
found it.

As I got ready the next morning, I burst into tears all over again, and I
wondered how many days would pass before I woke up without crying for you.
In the weeks since we have been home with Piper, time has slowly
eased the hurt, but I don’t think of you any less. I have never once
doubted that you would change your minds about the decision you made, but I
have felt an unexplainable stillness in knowing that if you did, I would be
okay because as much as I care about Piper, I care about the two of you
equally.

Every night before bed, we tell Piper how many people love her, and the two
of you are always at the top of the list because you will always be her
parents, too. I can’t wait until she is old enough to ask
questions about the picture of the four of us on the wall in her room,
until she wonders how she got her beautiful black hair, and until she makes
the connection that her middle name is the same as her birth mother’s.
I can’t wait for that day because then I get to tell her, once again,
the story of two people named Amanda and Conner who loved her so much that
they made the greatest sacrifice two people could ever make.

People say that you can’t understand true love until you have a baby.
Although I don’t fully agree with that statement, I do believe that
I’ve experienced a fuller and deeper kind of love because I met you.
In your words, Conner, this situation was just “meant to
be.” Through our whole adoption journey, I have been the
most worried about our relationship with our child’s birth parents, and
that has actually come to be the most beautiful part of it all.

You named our sweet girl Grace when she was with you for nine months, and
grace has absolutely been the theme of our song. “Thank you” seems so
inadequate for expressing the gratitude we daily feel for your selfless
gift- Piper. Somehow I hope you know just how much you mean to us,
not just for giving us a daughter who we could never have on our own, but
because of the truly strong and special people that you are. I love
you and respect you both, and because of you, my heart is full for the
first time in years.

Love,

Mary Rachel

_______________________________________________________

Mary Rachel Fenrick

Mary Rachel Fenrick recently became a mom when she and her husband adopted their daughter from an agency in Oklahoma City. God used infertility to not only teach them more about himself, but to bring them a perfect baby and two wonderful birth parents. You can read more about her journey on her blog, the Fenricks.

July 21, 2014July 21, 2014

Abigail ~ “The Father’s JOY”

Doug said we were “done”. He said it so many times I almost believed it myself! Done adopting that is… He had, in fact, said that before we adopted Rachel too, but he was so adamant this time that he almost banned me from ever looking at another orphan advocacy site again! I tried to reason with him… Banning me from even looking at the faces of the hopeless would mean that I could no longer be a voice for them either. I have found God’s sweet plans for my life through the gift of adoption. If there were to be no more for my own home, I felt compelled to at least draw others to the children in desperate need of forever Mommy’s and Daddy’s. Doug finally relented and agreed that I could continue to look and advocate for those that wait. This I would do with great joy!

But what was I to do when my eyes landed on the face of this precious little girl who I was convinced was to be my own? What she needed more than anything else was a Daddy. And she and her foster Mama had been praying for just that! Sure- Abby needed a Mommy too… but her Foster Mama loved her well and the hole in her heart needed a Daddy to fill it! I happened to know of a most wonderful Daddy… and I prayed he would be the one this little girl longed for!

Of course, you know the rest of that story by now. God would make it clear to Doug that Abigail was to be his daughter and his heart was so tender toward her that he could hardly speak her name without tears. Suddenly the man that was convinced we were “done” was driven to pray and to work tirelessly to do whatever it took to get his daughter home!

On the other side of the world, news would arrive to the little girl that had waited so long… Abigail had a Daddy! As photos arrived of him on the computer, she would wrap her arms around it to hug her dream come true and the screen was smudged with kiss after kiss planted on her new daddy’s face. Finally the two would meet via Skype. There are no words… just one picture to tell the story.

Sadly, Abigail’s Daddy couldn’t travel to China to bring her home, so our “Gotcha Day” included another introduction via computer screen.

She would have to wait almost 2 more weeks before finally meeting Daddy in person and being in his arms for good! This made their meeting on November 22 at the Jacksonville airport, that much more special! I’m certain words can not capture the moment, but a video camera caught the beautiful moment when Abby’s dreams finally came true…

We made it home just in time to celebrate Thanksgiving! It would not be difficult to figure out what this Daddy is thankful for this year! Pretty obvious, huh?

It would be an understatement to say that Daddy is smitten with his newest little girl! S.M.I.T.T.I.N.! Is it any accident that a fatherless girl was given the name Abigail~ “The father’s joy”? No accident at all! God knew who her earthly Daddy would be and his JOY does indeed overflow!

Our days are FILLED with JOY!!!!

Abigail, you are and always will be… your father’s JOY!

___________________________

Lori McCary and her husband, Doug, live in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida with their four adopted daughters from China. Their three biological kids are grown and have left the nest to start families of their own. A first grandson was born in March 2014, yet the Lord is still adding another daughter from China later this year! Lori is passionate about loving the fatherless and encouraging others to do the same. She and her husband are both involved in full-time ministry and speak around the country about the hope and joy found in Christ alone. You can follow her at http://www.lorimccary.com/.

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