School is Cool! Bracelets

So, over the course of the last few months, our kids have been learning a great deal about kids in need.  A few weeks ago, when my daughter saw someone selling bracelets, she asked, "Can we sell bracelets to help kids in the orphanage?"  "Why, yes we can."

So, we ordered some bracelets that say, "School is Cool!", and we will be using the proceeds to help a sweet woman who has taken in 50+ school-aged children in the Democratic Republic of Congo.  The proceeds will go directly to pay for their school fees for the spring term. 

If you would like an awesome bracelet that helps a great cause, just click on the PayPal link in the upper right-hand corner of the page.  Bracelets are a minimum donation of $2.00 USD each (you are welcome to donate more) (+ $1.95 shipping).  I can do 2 bracelets for $5.00, to make it even.  Please put your address in the comments section, and I will mail the bracelet right away.

If you would like to make a tax-deductible of $10.00 or more, you may do so at www.ourfamilyadoptions.org.  Please specify "Other Relief" and type "For the Bell Efforts--School Costs".  Please send me your address at kristenabell@gmail.com, and I will get a bracelet to you as soon as possible. 

Thank you so much for your consideration.

Advent and Anticipation

As we go through the Advent season, I am reminded once more of the anticipation the Old Testament Prophets must have felt awaiting the Lord's arrival. It's something I didn't really think about until a few years ago.  For thousands of years--since Moses had tried to wrangle a bunch of grumbling Israelites--the Jewish race had been waiting for the Messiah, for deliverance, for freedom from the crushing weight of self-atonement.  I can only imagine the excitement that must have coursed through the veins of the shepherds who were visited by the angels, the wise men who saw the North Star, Mary who "pondered all [such] things in her heart" when she heard the Good News: that Hope had finally arrived.  They had only the promise of a Messiah: we have proof.  We have a risen Lord who changed the course of history.

Christmas Eve has always been hands-down my favorite day of the year. I love Christmas Eve service, where all you see is candlelight, filled with voices singing "Silent Night".  I love the mood right when everyone finishes off their hot chocolate, turns out the fire, and heads to bed, ready for the magic to begin.  I love the feeling of anticipation that, unlike the anxiety that plagues us all year, is certain of good things to come in the morning.   

Like many Americans, though I spend much of the holiday season up to Christmas Eve making lists and checking them off; sending and receiving cards; baking cookies and then, despite my better judgment, eating them.  This year, though, the season of anticipation has been more tangible for our family.  We have been waiting to find out if our little one will get to be ours. And, when I say waiting, I mean checking the email every 10 minutes for the adoption decree (that's me, of course, not Philip); talking about it daily; becoming anxious that something may have gone wrong; and occasionally getting up the nerve to ask our coordinators, "Any news?"

Well, this morning, I opened my email nonchalantly, knowing it would not come on a Sunday. But around 9:30 AM, there it was, completely unexpected.  The copy of our adoption decree--the investigation found that JP is an orphan and a court in the DRC has agreed that we are fit parents for him.   To see our name listed on a legal document with his was surreal.  Now, we definitely have a few more hurdles to climb, but when I opened the email, it was the most excited I have been through this whole ordeal.  I cried out of joy, I squealed, the kids and I turned on some music and had a dance party. Really, this is the point where a realistic timeline finally begins. And more than anything, I could breath a bit of relief--things are moving in the right direction.

So, I got to feel the anticipation of a different kind of advent this Christmas, but one that pointed me back to the excitement we should all feel for the coming King.  And, in light of the last month of tragedy in the DRC and here at home, I pray that we yearn for the Second Advent even more.  For that day when all pain will cease, when we will rest in the arms of our Father, and will finally be home. The fulfillment of that which was begun in Bethlehem 2,000 years ago.

The Weight of It All

When I was a cheerleader in high school, our coach--who was trying to either maintain or restore our image as model citizens--would not let us say something 'sucks'.  We always had to say it 'inhales profusely'.  Fifteen years later, that is still my go-to phrase when something goes badly (thanks, Mrs. Sanders).  Well, I am just going to say it, sometimes life pretty much inhales . . .

Don't get me wrong.  My life isn't really all that bad. It's actually quite pleasant. I had a beautiful childhood; I am happily married to a man much nicer than me; I have two seemingly well-adjusted, healthy children; we have jobs we thoroughly enjoy most of the time; we have a wonderful church family; and we can go out and buy our needs and often our wants.  Minus the white picket fence--which we have replaced with a well-maintained greenbelt--all is well in the microcosm of life that is the Bell home.

But, this week reminds me that all is not well in the world. All is not even well in my neighborhood.  Parents must mourn children lost unexpectedly.  Students must deal with sickness, divorce, bullying, failure.  Those on the East Coast must find a way to rebuild their drenched, wrecked homes.  And, the country that is home to our third child must take the brunt of yet another violent civil war.  Really, even when things are going well in our own home, not a day goes by that we don't hear of someone's life, somewhere else, spiraling out of control. 

Honestly, this week has left me a bit disheartened. I really don't understand why 60,000 people signed a petition for Texas to secede from the Union and only 800 signed a petition for the United States to use nothing but its diplomatic power to speak against a band of rebels terrorizing an entire country.  I really don't understand why the news covers Obama shopping with his daughters but doesn't talk about the slaughter that is going on in the eastern Congo.  When I see another dog wedding or "Best Toys in 2012" segment, I just want to scream, "Really? Children are dying.  Families are being torn apart. People are starving."  But, in my frustration, I realize something else, too . . . 

There are times when the chaos is so close to us that we have no choice but to act, to feel outrage for those suffering.  But, when it is removed, when we aren't personally involved, we often just have to move on.  And, I get it.  I have done it with Hurricane Sandy. I have done it with Libya, and Egypt, and Israel.  I have done it with the Angel Tree, I have done it with that button I have to push to help homeless animals at Petsmart, I have done it with the lame man and the unborn.

Why?  Because, honestly, I can't handle the overwhelming weight of it all. Globally, I don't know what difference it will make.   Personally, I don't know what to say, I don't know how to give, I don't even know sometimes what to pray for.   And, if I prayed for everything bad thing that I heard happening in the world and in my neighborhood, I would never get off my knees.   

Ah, and there it is. Even in my typing, I realize it.  On my knees. . . .where I am reminded of my Savior, who gave up His life for the world He so loved.  Who came to this Earth for one reason, to suffer so that we would not have to bear the weight of sin forever.  And, honestly, that is the only place where I can find hope. When it is personal--when I am struggling with anxiety and frustration and fear--I cling to the cross.  And, really, that is where the beauty of suffering lies: it leaves us with nothing but our Savior and the recognition that, in all things, He is enough.  

Taking Shape . . .

Friends,

I know I presented a huge fundraising goal of $6300 last week to benefit an orphanage in dire need in the DRC.  I wanted to send out an update and to give details of how a few things have taken shape to make the goal that much more manageable.  (If you did not read the first post about the fundraiser and beneficiaries), I encourage you to check out the post Who's In?)

In an effort to raise school costs for all of the children at the orphanage for the spring term and to purchase 40 bunk beds so the children have a place to sleep, we are raising funds through two different campaigns. You are also welcome to give any amount you feel is appropriate; no amount is too small.  You can do so through www.ourfamilyadoptions.org (click on Donate and in the Specific Item choice, select Other and type "For the Bell Efforts"). Please email me, if you don't mind, so I can stay updated on our progress.

• "School is Cool!" Campaign:  My daughter Kate came up with the idea for this fundraiser. We are going to sell silicone bracelets that say "School is Cool!".  Graciously, my daughter's elementary school principal and my middle school principal are allowing us to sell these bracelets at their campuses.  Teachers, students, administrators, heads of PTA: this may be a great way for you to help! If you have access to a campus that would allow you to sell bracelets to send a group of children to school, you could help.  Your school will be able to send a check to a 501(c)(3) organization, and my goal is to make the bracelets $1.00.  I think it would be AWESOME for Kate to have an idea and then for her to see it make a difference in the lives of children who would not be able to go to school otherwise.
• "Buy-a-Bed Campaign":  I am so excited to report--through online donations and a fundraiser held by my sweet church home group--we have raised enough money to purchase 6 beds for the orphanage.  We are almost 1/3 of the way there!  If you have a group that is looking for a way to bless others during the holiday season--or a group of friends that are looking to do something beside a Christmas exchange--I invite you to be part of our "Buy-a-Bed" Campaign.  The cost of a bunk bed is approximately $200.  On an exciting note: I just found out that one family has already been planning to provide fitted sheets and another family is in the process of making quilts, before they even knew we were working to provide the beds.  What a beautiful orchestration of God's plans.

And, I just want to say thank you for reading this all the way through.  I know this is a tough season for giving. I hope these ideas make giving more manageable and allow you to perhaps make memories with friends/family while helping raise funds for these children. I just gave an update to the leaders of Our Family in Africa, and I cannot express the humble gratitude they have for any assistance we can provide.

If you have any ideas or questions, please contact me at kristenabell@gmail.com.

Love,
Kristen

Unfortunately, I am a pretty big hypocrite . . .

Be careful not to do your acts of righteousness before men, to be seen by them. Matthew 6:1

 

 

So, this verse is the reason I struggled with writing a blog of our experience in the first place.  I definitely want to be careful that we don't seek the praise of men.  I decided to write about our experience for one reason: so that the Gospel would go forth.  So that those who do not know God would see Him work so perfectly that they would want to know Him, and that those who know God would be encouraged to seek Him even more. 

 

It is only natural for us to see the person in an act.  It is natural to be inspired by their story; to place them on a "righteous" pedestal; to feel guilt that we aren't doing the same thing. But, that robs all of us of the growth that comes with the Lord working on our hearts.    Looking at another person who is in a season of fruitfulness can make us want to say, "Man, that is awesome for them; but, I am just not that [fill in the blank]."  Let me very clear: left to our own devices, Philip and I are pretty wicked. We are about as far from magic righteous dust as it comes. 

 

I have wanted to tell this story, to confess this moment, since we returned. I just did not have the words until reading these verses tonight.  On the second day of our visit, Philip and I had been driving around in our taxi.  We had driven through town to the orphanage and were on our way back to the hotel.  We had seen poverty at every corner--poverty so pervasive that it all started to blend together, to become gray even, to not seem that bad.  As we drove on a crowded street--littered with trash and goods and people--we stopped to get some water. Our translator had not let us out of the taxi at any of the other stops; but, at this one, he said, "Come on!" We looked at one another and then at him with a quizzical "Are you sure?"  glance.  Yes, he meant for us to go in the market with him.  

 

We were a bit bewildered.  We had been in the airport, in a taxi, in the hotel, and in the orphanage.  All places that were used to seeing visitors. On the crowded Congolese streets, we had not seen another non-African face.  We did not know the protocol, and we did not know how we would be perceived.  So, we timidly got out of the car and headed straight to the market. 

 

That is where I saw him.  A lame man.  I had never seen a lame man before.  He was pulling himself along on the sidewalk by his arms; his hands were cushioned by a pair of old flip-flops, fingers where the toes should go; and his legs followed limp behind him.  He came up to our mid-calf, and looked up at everyone with beseeching eyes, completely dependent on others for support.    The lame man and I got to the steps that led to the market at the same time.  I stepped back, wanting to allow him to go before me.  He looked up at me, and I motioned him forward.   But, he did not move.  This Southerner gave her little smile of well-mannered courtesy.  The security guard, however, did not smile; he waved me in to the market with a frighteningly serious face.  Because I did not understand the language, and because I was naive to what was really going on, I went in.  I turned around to see the security guard close the door in the man's face.  He was not allowed with us, and my stomach sank. 

 

We quickly went to the aisle, picked out a safe bottle of water, and headed to the counter.  The entire time my head was reeling, but we were being watched, and so I said nothing.  Our translator negotiated the sale, we paid, and quickly walked back onto the street. To my left was the lame man, holding up a cup to a group of ambivalent bystanders.  Again, he looked at them beseechingly--for water, for food--I could not tell.  I knew what I should do, but I kept walking.  I had the ability and means to help him.  I had the power of the Holy Spirit to pray over him and to bring healing to his body or spirit. But, I did not do either.  Out of cowardice and ignorance and naivete, I got back in the car. 

 

Immediately, it hit me, but it was too late.  We were driving away. I was the Priest and Levite who did not stop to render aid.  I was the hypocrite who did not feed or clothe the least of the Lord's.   I was Peter who was given three chances to claim Christ, and I failed every time. I am sure the people in the Bible--those whom Jesus mocked and ridiculed for their self-righteousness--felt they had a good excuse for not helping someone, but just like me, their excuse was rooted in their own wicked heart.
 

For a few days, I wallowed in self-contempt.  But, I know worldly sorrow is of no good.  I must remember that I have a God who loves me despite me.  Just seeing the small glimpse of my own selfishness in this story, I am keenly aware that I have no hope outside of His death on the cross and defeat over my sin and death through His resurrection.  If I rely on my own good deeds, I am doomed; but God who is rich in mercy, paid a way for me to have Christ's righteousness, not my own.  And, I can live with His forgiveness of this sin and countless others. 

 

That doesn't mean the lame man will not haunt me. I know if I see him again, I will care for him.  I have learned the lesson that comes with not taking such opportunities.  Chances are, though, that won't happen.  So, I am left to pray for him.  Tonight, I prayed for him in the words of one of my favorite songs:

 

You were singing in the dark
whispering Your promise
even when he could not hear
May he be held in your arms
carried for a thousand miles to show
Not for a moment did You forsake him
and every step every breath you are there
every tear every cry every prayer
in his hurt at his worst
when his world falls down
not for a moment will You forsake his
even in the dark
even when it's hard
may you never leave him

 

I will continue to pray for him--on my knees and through tears--that the Lord will save him. I pray that I may not be paralyzed by my own wickedness, but that in recognizing my weaknesses, His power would be made perfect in us and our messy story. And I pray that one day, I will meet the lame man in heaven, dancing for His Savior.  

 

Who's In?

Alright, so here it goes: we are officially raising funds. 

While tons of people have to raise funds for their adoption--and they have had the opportunity to watch the Lord work through those efforts--the Lord blessed us by asking us to sacrifice (see blog about Philip's truck) and by leading us to a wonderful organization.  Therefore, most of our adoption costs have been covered.

This leaves us with an incredible opportunity to raise funds for a wonderful cause: to support an orphanage in great need in the Democratic Republic of Congo.  The orphanage houses approximately 60 older children living with a wonderful woman who saw their need and stepped in to fill it.  Unlike the orphanage that adopting families support while their children are waiting, these children are not going to be adopted; they are being raised in the DRC to eventually make a difference in their own country.

But, their situation is dire.  The founder struggles to provide furniture, food and education for the children.  They must daily rest on God's provision and on people's hearts to move on their behalf.

That is where we come in. In this time of Thanksgiving, I would love to help this sweet home. Our fundraising goal is to raise $6300 by December 1.  That is a pretty hefty goal (and double what I initially expected to seek from you).  But, God has blessed us with some great friends with some big hearts.

What will $6300 cover?

• Currently, they do not have funds to send the children to school next term. As an educator, I would love to raise the $2300 that will cover the expenses to educate all of the children at the orphanage for the next term.
• The orphanage is also desperately in need of beds.  They need 20 bunk beds, which cost approximately $200 a piece.  We hope to help orchestrate the delivery and construction of these beds on our next visit. 

Would you prayerfully consider helping us raise funds to bless these children?

If you are interested in making a donation, please go to www.ourfamilyadoptions.org.  On that site, you can click to donate to Our Family in Africa.  When you donate, please select for the fund, "Other Special Relief" and state "For the Bell Efforts".  The director will know that these funds are going to help the orphanage.  In addition, please email me the donation information (kristenabell@gmail.com), so that I can keep everyone posted about our progress. OFA is a recognized 501(c)(3), so you will receive tax-deductible information for your donations.

Finally, if you would like to discuss OFA further, or have some creative fundraising ideas, please email me at kristenabell@gmail.com. 

Thank you again for your consideration. We look forward to watching the Lord work to help the least of these and to celebrate with you when He has used our little community to change lives. 

Uncovering Santa

So, I think this is the year that Santa will officially be uncovered in our house.  That's okay; I have really enjoyed it, but I look forward to watching my children help other kids enjoy the magic of Santa.  I have wanted to make the moment I tell our daughter a teachable moment. A few friends sent me letters and blogs of other ways they told their children, so this will be our attempt.  Will update how it goes.

Kate,

You have asked me if I am Santa.  I am not Santa, but your dad and I have brought much of the Santa magic to our home.  Just like you guessed, we have filled your stocking on Christmas and stayed up until late at night so that you can wake on Christmas morning to the magic of presents left by Santa while you were sleeping. Pops has even eaten the cookies you left.  It has been such a joy to watch you and your brother’s excitement and to create a home that is full of warmth, and love, and magic.
But, I always want you to know that I will tell you the truth, no matter what.

Unfortunately, the “magic” of Santa does not really exist this side of heaven.  No man—other than God—can be everywhere, can know everything, can travel the world in one night.  It is such a sweet time to be able to be young and to be able to believe in the impossible; so every Christmas, those young and old suspend reality for the dream of Santa. 

And, Santa is such a wonderful example of things in life that really do exist:

·         We serve a powerful God who knows so much more than Santa;

·         Our God loves to lavish us with His blessing and gifts better than any Christmas present could be;

·         Our God does not count whether we are naughty or nice—he loves us anyway;

·         Our God promises that, one day, we will be in a world where truly “magical” things happen—we will live forever, we won’t get sick or die, we will have a home where we are loved and cared for;

·         And we are to spread His compassion and love to others.

How wonderful that Santa does exist inside each one of us who knows our Savior.  Santa is found in the love we have for other people: to deeply desire that they have the best, to try to create moments where they feel warmth and comfort, to try to see the best in them. 

I will always be thankful for the memories I have had where you were “wowed” by Santa’s magic and love for you; my prayer is that, as you grow older, our Lord and Savior would wow you even more.   

Love,

Mom

Called by Name

I have called you by name;

You are mine.  Isaiah 43:1b

 

There are some moments that will be forever etched in your mind--even your soul--because they take you from the everyday and give you a glimpse of that which is eternal.  It may be something small, it may even take you by surprise, but you are in it, and you know it is of God.  A video of that moment would not suffice, nothing in two dimensions could capture the fullness of that which has just happened, and a worldly representation would just take away from the ethereal nature of the moment as it is etched in your memory.

 

 

That is exactly what we experienced when we met our little boy.

 

 

On Saturday, Philip and I woke up late, recovering from two days of travel. As we waited for our driver to pick us up and take us to the orphanage, I asked Philip whether or not he was excited. He warned me, "Kristen, don't expect too much. You don't know how he will react." I knew that; we had read enough about children in such situations to know that our first meeting could go a number of different ways, some very disappointing. 

After forty-five minutes up a rocky road--filled with poverty in every direction--we stopped in front of a building surrounded by concrete walls.  We  gathered several suitcases of donations and followed our translator through a pair of doors to find children quietly sitting in two rows of small patio chairs. 

As I entered, some of the younger ones cried out with a smile, "Mama!", their standard name for any of the 'mamas' who enter.  We scanned the faces and were pretty certain that we recognized our little boy from pictures, seated in the very last chair on the furthest row.  We already knew our visit was a surprise, and nothing in his face showed any recognition of who we were.  

I whispered to Philip, "Which one is he? The one on the end?" He shook his head that he thought so. 

Then, we turned to our translator and whispered, "Which one is JP?" wanting to be sure that we were correct.

Our translator turned to face the children, looking at the small boy that we had identified, "JP?"

It took a second, but suddenly his face changed.  His eyes got big.  His grin grew.  He realized that after weeks of watching other children meet their mama and papa, someone had finally come for him. Someone had called his name.

And with that realization, he pushed himself out of the chair and sprinted past the other children.  With ease and relief and joy, he ran through the dirt and jumped into Philip's arms.  He wrapped his arms around Philip's neck; he lay his head on Philip's shoulder.

And, he just rested there, for a long time.  He had found his earthly father. And, in that sweet moment of restoration, I got a glimpse of my heavenly One. 

 

 

On Our Side

So, tomorrow morning, we are headed to Africa.  Neither of us have been there before.  I think we don't really know what to expect, and I am pretty certain we will be both amazed at its beauty and exhausted by its brokenness. 

We aren't going for adventure.  In fact, chances are we will arrive at the airport, take a taxi and see little but the inside of our hotel, an orphanage and a church during the short two-day trip. But, we will go to meet a little boy, who will hopefully change our family as much as we will change his.

We will spend several days of vacation, several thousands of dollars and probably some moments of being extremely uncomfortable because the Lord has said, "Go!"  We are not to be praised for these actions.  I think if you asked Philip, he would agree that we have been powerless to say no.  The desire the Lord has put in our hearts to take this journey is stronger than our desire for comfort and safety.

But, I am reminded of a similar journey 2,000 years ago, where the Father told his Son to "Go!" and He did.  For me. and For you.  For this world that was broken and abandoned.  He forfeited power, wealth and comfort to bring us Home.  And just like our little one will be a citizen of the United States because of our trip, Jesus' incomprehensible trip--where he took the form of a man to die in our place--gives us a much greater citizenship:  that of the eternal presence of God.

This morning, when I was struggling with a bit with nerves and feelings of overwhelm, I turned on some sweet CDs my friend made me a few years ago.  I finish with the words of the first song I heard ("You Are On Our Side" by Bethany Dillon). 

The orphan clings to Your hand,
Singing a song of how he was found.

The widow rejoices,
For her oppressors are silenced now.

You sit at the table with the wounded and the poor,
You laugh and share stories with the thief and the whore.
When you could just stay silent and leave us here to die,
Still you sent your Son for us. You are on our side.

God is so good! He went to much greater lengths to adopt us, and for that, I praise and trust Him.  If He did not spare His own Son, if He laid down His life for me, if He pursued me . . . how can I ever doubt His love and provision for me?  He came so that we may have LIFE and have it abundantly. Filled to the brim with thankfulness that we get to tangibly see this PROMISE as we go.

Prayer Request

So, we would covet your prayers right now.  After talking with our peeps at our partner organization, the best thing to do is travel during the adoption process, so that our child receives an IR3 visa.  This visa allows him to be a US citizen when he leaves the country.  And, we just really want to meet him. 

So, we are thinking of going . . .in a few weeks. With that said, we have to arrange time from work, get our visas, finish our immunizations, pack and maintain a normal semblance of life. :) And then, we will have to travel approximately 50 hours, missing only a few days from work.  But, how awesome will it be for us to hand-deliver our family picture book to our sweet JP (email me for his name, but that is what we are calling him for short).

So, please pray with us that things will work out; that our own children will be okay in our absence; that we will have safe travel; and that JP will be prepared to meet us.

We have also noticed that the children in the orphanage are wearing the same clothes in several groups of pictures.  So, we would love to have a gently-used clothes drive for ages 0 months-4T and take a suitcase with us when we go.  If you have any items to donate, let me know and I will come get them from you. 

Thanks for your prayers! We will keep you posted. 

Love, Philip and Kristen

Rest.

So, I sobbed at church tonight.  It was the kind of get-the-tissue, my-shoulders-are-shaking, I-couldn't-speak-even-if-I-wanted-to tearfest.  It was both embarrassing and really, really theraupeutic (as most cries are). 

The sermon was from Matthew 5, and the central message was the freedom that can be found at the cross.  In Matthew 5, Christ says that if we are not as righteous as the Pharisees, we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.  That is disturbing news because we can never be as perfect as the Pharisees of Christ's day, who followed the 600+ commands of God with zeal.  Christ, however, was showing us that He brings a different righteousness; a righteousness that does not come from doing everything right on the outside, but that comes from resting in the work that Christ did on the cross.

And, then we had our church's first "altar call" in eight years.  Watching those who had been enslaved to sin in their lives publicly claim the cross and find freedom definitely put a little tear in my eye.  It is always remarkable, if not incredible, to see God at work, and in those moments, I am reminded of the freedom He has so graciously given me. 

Right when I was holding it all together, the words of one of my favorite hymns flashed on the screen-

"Weary, burdened wanderer,
There is rest for thee.
At the feet of Jesus,
With your love so free."

And that's when I lost it.  I don't always lose it on that song, but this week was different.

A few weeks ago, a little boy was delivered to the orphanage with which we work.   Apparently, he has no history and no family. He was a street kid, in an urban setting where street kids litter the city looking for food and shelter.  Suddenly, with those words, I was struck with the image of a city of kids trying to find food in a place where those who work find it difficult to eat; I was grieved by the image of children sleeping on streets night after night with no shelter or blanket or pillow; I lamented those kids who live constantly alert for protection of their own lives; and I mourned that they have no one to hold or comfort them. They have to be so weary, so burdened, so lost and void of hope. 

(*Just a caveat: In October, when we received our adoption paperwork, we learned that all of the information above was not true.  Our little boy did have a birth mother. Apparently, his father is deceased, and the mother is ill.  She had allowed him to go to an orphanage because she was not well enough to take care of him.  I leave the text above because (a) it reflected my emotions at the time, and (b) I am sure it is true of other children.  If you would like to see what happened with the birth mother, the posts in July '13 do a better job of explaining that information).

Two weeks ago, we heard from the organization with which we work.  The little street boy was being referred to our family.  The Lord brought him to that orphanage, and we get the incredible honor and duty of answering the question: "Do you want to give him rest?"

We have decided to answer that question with a peace-filled, open-handed, "Yes!"  We have some months of waiting ahead of us, and then some months of difficult transition for us all, but we can't wait to get him home.  To feed his belly, so it no longer knows hunger. To bathe his body, so that it can be free of disease.  To pillow his head, so that it can know a night of restful sleep.  To teach his mind, so that it can reach its full potential.

But, most importantly, we want to love this little boy unconditionally, so that He can see the free love lavished on Him by His Father and know Him deeply.

Thanks for following us on this journey.  We are hopeful that the Lord will bring this good work in us to completion.  And, we pray that if you are weary or burdened or wandering, may your soul find rest.

 

The Dog Days are Done . . .

The kids and I spent our last day of summer together at Denton Water Works (I highly recommend, by the way).  They went down slides, hung out in the lazy river, jumped off diving boards and got splashed by a ton of fountains and spray things.  I am constantly amazed at the progress that has occurred in water-play engineering since I was a kid, swimming in the large community pool surrounded by a decrepit chainlink fence.  Friday was a wonderful ending to the longest summer I can remember. 

We did a million things, and because where we live rocks, most of them were cheap or free: although you will quickly find that most places we went probably wish they had charged my crazy kids for access.

1.  Kate had her birthday party at Zone Action Park (thank you Groupon).  She wanted to invite her entire kindergarten class, and I quickly learned that kindergarten is when parents drop off at parties.  I completely understand; I love the two hours of free babysitting that a birthday party provides.     Besides being unable to find one child for an uncomfortably long time when his mom picked him up, and having to call a mom to see if her child had made it home (He did. WHEW!), I think it was a big success. 

2.  We took swimming lessons with Miss Sherry. Watson, who cried at the mere prospect of removing his floaties in May, was swimming to the deep end by the end of the summer.  I see very little of swimming lessons, as I spend most of my time "getting to know" the other moms who get to sit poolside with me. I also might add that Watson also learned to ride his teeny bike this summer. It was a big summer for him.

3.    We went to the Red, White and Blue Festival.  Actually, we drove by and the parking lot was too full, so we went to our favorite little peninsula on the lake, waited for an hour, decided to drive off, and, just as would be expected, the fireworks started immediately when we left. We quickly found a cul-de-sac and watched.  When I say "we", I mean Philip found one with me yelling, "Hurry! They're going to miss it!" in his ear.  The kids made friends with another crew of preschoolers, and all of them found climbing over our car's hood and roof much for fascinating than the show. A day in the life with kids . . .a three-hour wait for five minutes of entertainment.  Our town does the firework show the first weekend of June,  but we also went to a high point to watch neighboring fireworks on the Fourth of July.  That is until Watson ate the glo-stick, and we had to go home. 

4.  WE SWAM!! We swam at the pools (every one of them).  We swam at friends' house (thanks Sylvester, King, McCurdy and Fernandez families).  We swam with our families (thanks Walter and Joy and Emmy and Pops). We went to Old Town Aquatic Park, Sun Valley Aquatic Park and Denton Water Works (all within 15 minutes of the house).  We even went out to the Chisholm Aquatics Center in Hurst, where the kids spent so much time on the slides, my best friend and I actually got to have an uninterrupted conversation (which we have not done in years).  Yeah, Jill!

5.  WE BOATED!! We were blessed to take two trips to Possum Kingdom Lake (thanks Phillips family), where the kids learned to jump off the roof of a boat dock (thanks Philip).  And we got to go on several day trips to Lake Lewisville (thanks Griders).  I actually swam in the lake and enjoyed it, wearing my life jacket diaper. One of the sweetest moments was when Watson fell asleep on the boat for an hour while I held him; it has been so long since I held one of my sleeping babies. Poor kid ending up with a vicious sunburn! I guess staring at the sky without moving for an hour will do that to you.

6.  We hung out at the library. While I was a horrible reading teacher mom (we did not come close to reading our 24-hour goal), we did get some new picture books and TONS of movie fun!  We even read a few Magic Treehouse books.  CHAPTER BOOKS MAKE ME SO HAPPY!  Unfortunately, the acoustic dome at the Lewisville Library does not.  I am not sure if children yelling into the dome was the intended effect of such construction, but my children certainly think so.

7.  We experienced STAR WARS.  Thanks to the Purvis family and the Lewisville library, we watched the entire Star Wars series.  I did not watch them as a kid, so I may have loved it more than the kids.  Well, no one could love it more than Watson, who talks about it twenty-four hours a day and tries to turn everything into a light saber. Watson even found a Darth Vader mask at Kid-to-Kid for $10, and he likes to say, "I am your father" over and over again.  He actually looks like the kid in the VW commercial, and that makes me smile. 

8.  We ate!! This was actually the most dangerous of all.  At Chick-fil-A, Watson popped a balloon so loudly that the ENTIRE RESTAURANT took cover, and I do not exaggerate because even the manager said he ducked under the counter.   That same day, a boy came running out of the playroom because another little boy punched him.  Turns out the culprit was my Star Wars-crazed preschooler.  And, I won't even mention the antics we had at Burger King . . .

9.  We lost teeth.  And, I mean we lost them.  Kate has lost two teeth this summer (and one is hanging on by a disgustingly loose thread).   When she lost the first tooth, she wrote the tooth fairy, "Please do not take the tooth but leave me a present."  So, the sweet and wonderful tooth fairy did just that.  What happened the next day when I dragged my two children through the metal detectors at the Denton Courthouse to get copies of our marriage certificate? The tooth was dropped in the center of a sea of white linoleum.  There I was, on the floor of the courthouse, looking for A TOOTH! The security guards began to get worried, and we had to let it go.  She cried, but it was better than mom getting questioned and detained.

10.  We watched the Olympics.  How incredible was it to watch the kids realize that the USA is a pretty cool place.  While I am sure the "edited" programming made it look like we were the only team who competed, watching the medal ceremonies and hearing the Star-Spangled Banner over and over again made us all swell with pride. I loved hearing them say about the winner, "Is that our team?"  and react in awe that we had won again.   

One thing we did not do: NAP!!! There was one day Watson took a nap and another day Kate took a nap.  But, they were certainly not the same day.  We often saw 10 pm and rarely saw 7 am. We definitely need a vacation from our vacation, and I think school is just the thing! :) 

The Sweet Spot!!

What a journey this has been.  From April to May, we were speeding along, seeing an adoption by the end of the year as a possibility, only to find ourselves at a STAND-STILL this ENTIRE summer.  Let's not focus on the fact that this summer would have been the PERFECT time for me to finish our paperwork.  Why?  Because my perfect time is not God's perfect time, and He is so good. Let me tell you why . . .

Just to give a little recap of the past few months:

• April: picked an agency and got home study for that agency. 
• May: could not sign with that agency, for no other reason than this nagging feeling that would not let us move forward. 
• June: started with another agency that had a super-sweet boy waiting to be adopted. Changed home study to requirements of that agency. 
• July: things fell apart (will not go into details for respect of all parties involved). 

Enter waiting game. Enter doubts that this was ever God's will.  Enter questions about my own intentions and motivations.  But, God is so good!

The night I posted the blog saying that we were putting on the brakes was tough for me. I really did not know how we would adopt now.  It did not feel right going back to the other agency, and we were pretty convinced that the entire "process" was not for us.  We wanted to be more involved; we wanted to know more; we wanted to be able to ask questions and be certain that we were making a wise decision, in every step of the process; we wanted to do what was good and right for the country and its people.

Over the entire course of this process, I have been emailing a sweet woman who runs an organization helping orphans in the DRC.  At one time, they helped with adoptions, but it was clear based on our email contact, that this was no longer their focus.  They wanted to be a voice for the orphans left behind, and I definitely respect that.  So, on the night we said, "Stop!", I emailed her, thanking her for her advice and asking how we could help, if we chose not to go forward with adoption.

And, then we waited . . . 

On July 25, I got a response (and I paraphrase): "We would love your support of orphans in the DRC. We occasionally coordinate adoptions if we have a referral from another family in our organization. Do you know anyone?"

My thoughts: I don't know anyone. *SIGH* Another door closed.

My reply (and I paraphrase again): "Pick me! Pick me! We will be nice to you; we will be nice to our child; we will be nice to the people of the DRC. Pretty please with cherry on top?"

Her response: "Maybe. Let's wait until winter."

My reply: "So, you're saying there's a chance? (taken from Dumb and Dumber, if you don't recognize) Can we do anything in the meantime? By the way, I am licensed to practice law here in Texas. Could I help you with the adoptions in some way?"

I stop here to discuss what a sweet moment of grace I am sitting in. I have been praying for adoption for a few months. But, I have been praying to use my law degree in a way that aligns with my passions for seven years. Is there any way the Lord could answer both prayers at the same time? Ah, yes. Because He is that good.

Her response: "Let's chat. When are you available this week?"

And, after tons of prayer, after several conversations where it is clear this organization is the perfect fit, and after a weekend of paperwork, we just found out yesterday that WE HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED. And, to see the joy in our house. I was cheering; the kids ran around hugging one another; even Philip expressed his elation (by smiling--those of you who know Philip know how elated he gets). :)

So, we are back on the road again. And, it feels so right. It's like we were trying to get somewhere, our GPS constantly saying, "Recalculating," in that sweet British accent that makes you want to hit it. Hard. And, then, right when we least expected it, we were placed on the right path. The organization will help us with the adoption, but we are involved in every step of the process. As I learn the process, I can help other adoptive families. We also get to learn of real needs of real orphans in the DRC from those working on the ground. And, there is a little boy on the other side of the world who just got a home. And he doesn't even know it yet.

And, to think, God has been orchestrating this whole thing, even amidst our frustrations and doubts. I cry out in awe of His goodness, His mercy, His faithfulness. More than anything, I hope this encourages you on your path. If we can pray for you in some way, please let us know.

The Irony of Fear

Today, a dear family friend lost his father to West Nile Virus.  At 12:01 AM Paul Bellington, Sr., slipped out of his coma and went to be with the Lord. I met Mr. Bellington several times, and he was one of those older gentlemen who seemed to love life.  He drove a beat-up van, wore gray hair and wrinkles, but nothing about his heart was old.  He made jokes with my kids, asked questions like he was interested in the answers, and grinned from ear to ear no matter what you said.  He was one of those people you just left his presence with that swollen, good-hearted, "I want to be like that guy" feeling.

We got to know Mr. Bellington through his son who shares the same name, Paul.  Paul and his dad shared more than a name: they are both a complete joy to be around.   Paul spent his childhood as a missionary on the Amazon River in Brazil, while his parents shared Christ in the rainforest of South America.  Paul tells great stories of eating interesting rodents, catching terrible diseases, and living the vagabond life that comes with being a MK.  Why?  Because his father, Mr. Bellington, spent fifty years tabling his ideas of a "normal" life to share Christ with those south of our border.  Every time we talked to Paul, his eighty-something-year-old dad was driving to Mexico to serve here, or back from Brazil sharing there. 

That's why his death from a mosquito bite just minutes from where we live seems so devastatingly ironic.  Not devastating for him . . .he is seeing Christ for the first time, basking in the glow of heaven . . .but devastating for me.  I spend a great deal of my time motivated by fear.  My fear is not the overt "I think I am going to have a heart attack", all-consuming terror (although I know tons of people who suffer from panic attacks that feel this way); my fear is more subtle.  My fear looks more like, "Maybe I'll do that when the kids get older; what if something happened to me?"   Or, "That area seems dangerous. What if I got mugged, or shot, or eaten by a bear?"  Or, "Man, I really feel led to [fill-in-the-blank], but something happened to or I heard about someone who, and I just can't shake the nagging feeling . . ."  Those are my fears; fears grounded in the what-ifs that stifle me from taking any step from safety.  And, what's crazier?  Nearly everything I fear will NEVER come to pass.

And, here is Mr. Bellington, who was moments from a mosquito bite that could give him malaria, inches from a person who had some fever or infection that may take his life, and right in the midst of unavoidable violence.  Yet, the Lord protected him in that work for fifty years.  He did not die from the disease and crime that are rampant in Central and South America; he died in suburban America, from exactly the same thing that may have deterred him from serving if he had let fear control his actions.


Part of me wants to say, "Now, we can't go crazy and just do dangerous things. We have a family." And, please don't get me wrong.  (A) I don't want to move to a foreign country and throw all that I know here out the window. (B) I think those with minor children have some responsibility to be reasonable in their adventures. And (C) Not everyone in ministry is spared illness or death; the Lord uses all kinds of suffering to make His name known. 

Nine Things I Learned When I Could Not Talk to My Husband for Ten Days . .

My husband just returned from a mission trip to the Amazon River in Brazil.  For 10 of the days, he had no phone access.  That was the longest we have gone in 13 years without talking to one another.  Through that process, I have learned a few things:

1. I am not as much a wimp as I thought I was.  I have never lived alone.  I had my parents, college roommates and then my husband.  Actually, I have rarely spent a night alone.  And, when I did, I would kind of panic.  I would stay up until 2 am, listening for weird sounds and then fall asleep with my bedside lamp on.  I was a weenie.  But, 10 nights is a little long to stay at my parents', so I braved it.  And, you know what? It wasn't too bad.  Sure, I kept the kids in my room, checked all the closets before going to bed, and locked our door, but in the end, I actually kind of enjoyed it. 

2.  But I can be lazy, REALLY lazy.  My husband is an exceptional man.  He works really hard, he takes care of things around the house, and if I don't make any motion toward the kitchen by 5:30, he usually heads in there to cook dinner without complaining.  I spend a lot of time being pretty unproductive at home. But, over the past 10 days, I have kept up with the laundry, kept the house picked up, and even watered the yard without forgetting.  I let him pick up the slack around the house, because he will, but he really shouldn't have to.

3. On the other hand, cooking is NOT my passion.  So, these 10 days have proven that, while I love to look at cookbooks and imagine gourmet meals, I am not a cook. I do not enjoy it; it is not my "go-to" hobby by any stretch of the imagination.  I have managed to go 10 days without cooking anything more than a sandwich or frozen pizza.  I may whip something up every once in a while when we have friends over, but Dinner Station is probably going to have to help with the rest.

4. Discipline is a beating.  On a recent trip to Chick-fil-A, a friend and I were chatting while the kids played.  A little boy comes out and says, "A little boy punched me in the face."  His mom screamed out in horror, "Punched you?"  I thought in horror, "There are only two little boys in there and one is mine."  After a web of lies, we finally found out it was my Stars-Wars-crazed son taking his battles a bit too seriously.  While he apologized and took his well-deserved punishment, I did not have the luxury of scaring him with "Wait until your dad comes home!"  That made me think how difficult it would be to be the only one to maintain discipline in my home; eventually, they would figure out 99% of the time, I am winging it, and I would be toast.

5. Which leads me to realize, raising kids alone inhales profusely.  I hope I don't  hurt anyone's feelings because I want to just give a medal to all of those widowed, divorced or military moms who spend a great deal of time raising their children alone.  It is exhausting, both physically and mentally.  If you live close by and EVER need a break, drop your kids off at my place, any day or night, because it would be my privilege to give you a chance to relax.

6.  Because I want to be like my friends and family who have shown me I'm not really alone.  I am not one to ask for help, or even accept help when it is offered, but during the last few days, I have made a choice to just take other people's help.  And it has been wonderful.  My parents made me dinner for my anniversary (because Philip was gone), friends invited me to dinner at their house, Philip's parents treated me to a few days at their house, friends have watched my children, and even mowed our lawn.  Allowing community to take hold has been one of the most satisfying parts of this process, and I was a better wife when he got home for it.  THANK YOU!

7. So, now I understand that even the little things matter.  Sometimes I feel I don't have much to give others, but an hour of time or a small treat can mean a great deal.  I have a friend who is so intentional with her time that she put on her calendar the fact that Philip would be out of town.  And then she called to see how she could help.  I hope I will do that more, now that I know how nice it feels.

8. I could live without Philip.  This is hard to write.  I haven't really lost an immediate family member, so sometimes I can worry how you cope with that. Philip, who has lost someone close to him, always assures me that you just learn to move on, day by day.  And, he's right.  This is the first time in 13 years that I have not had a daily partner.  It stunk at times.  I cried at church the other night because I was tired and I missed him.  But, I am confident the Lord would give me the grace and friends to see us through.

9.  But, I don't want to. 

So, I'm glad he's home, and I hope to complain a little less and enjoy a lot more!

Reminder at the Opening Ceremony

So, on Friday night, we got a wonderful, surprise visit from our nanny who watched the kids when we first moved to HV.  She was such a bright spot in our lives for that year, and Kate was so amazed that she would come see her.  We had a special time of homemade cookies, light saber shows and catching up.

The Problem with Pity

Because of a sweet friend who watched my kids Friday morning, I got to spend a full hour in the Word at Starbucks with no interruptions.  What a beautiful gift! We just joined a new homegroup at church, so lately my time in the Word has been following our church's introductory guide for homegroups. And what would be the topic of study today, on my "Hang-out-with-God" treat day? Gospel-Centered Service.  In light of the last few weeks, and the specific prayers I have had, it was definitely a moment of, "Ah, so you're talking to me, God!" I read about Jesus washing the disciples' feet (even those of Judas) and one of the sweetest summaries of the Gospel there is, "For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake, he became poor, so that you, by his poverty, might become rich."  (2 Corinthians 8:9) There is no question that Jesus was physically poor in the Bible. He had no place to lay his head (Luke 9:58). He and His disciples left any livelihood they had to share the Good News. 

Everywhere we look there are people in need.  Just last week, while visiting Dallas, there were panhandlers asking for spare change.  There are those who have now been unemployed for years.  There are single mothers trying to make ends meet.  And, around the world, the poverty can be staggering.  No sanitation, no education, no clean water, no rain.  What appears to be no hope for change in the lives of billions of people.  Sometimes, I feel overwhelmed with pity.  Merriam-Webster defines pity as the "sympathetic sorrow for one's suffering."  When I see others in what appears to be insurmountable need, there is that feeling in the pit of my stomach that kind of makes it turn: pity.  With pity comes shame at all we have and all we take for granted; and guilt at not being able to do more. 

In an effort to understand the feeling, I looked up "pity" in my Bible's Concordance. I was surprised to find that there are only two verses in the Bible that use the word "pity", or some form thereof. In Psalm 90:13, a Psalm of lamenting, the author cries out to God for Him to have pity on His servants, to put an end to their suffering.   The psalmist cried out to God--"Don't you at least see our pain? How long will we have to suffer?" Likewise, I feel pity when I see a problem that I don't have the time, resources or--to be completely honest--motivation to solve.  Pity sees but does not take action, and in this inaction, creates guilt, overwhelm, doubt and insecurity that there is any hope to end a person's, or the world's, suffering.

Then, in what I think is one of the most honest verses of the Bible, Paul says, "If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied." (I Corinthians 15:19) Pity is a feeling that is associated with hopelessness and helplessness.  Without Christ, pity reigns.  There is no hope; there is no relief; there is no light in the darkness. 

Geez! Lighten Up Already . . .

So, while I hope the last posts have been meaningful, I fear that I may soon sound like a Debbie Downer (if you have not seen one of the funniest moments on television, you can watch it here).  Everyone is going about their perfectly happy day, and then they start blog reading, and it's suddenly death and despair.  Please do not think I am IN ANY WAY downplaying the plight of those suffering in the world; we should all be thinking about it way more than we do.  But, I love to laugh and find the humor in every situation.  And after reading One Thousand Gifts this summer, I am trying to be more thankful of the blessings I already have.  So, here is a list of the five things I am thankful for this summer (sorry, men, not sure if you will enjoy this; actually not sure if any men but my husband read the blog anyway): 

Quick Update on Speed Bump . . .

I just wanted to let you know that I had a wonderful conversation with the adoption agency.  We agreed that our concerns would probably not fit with adoption through an agency.  She did assure me that the little boy we have been praying for will find a match for adoption certainly and quickly.  That is wonderful; will be praying that he is adopted into a loving home and he will know the Lord at a very early age.

Timeline

July-August 2013:  Before traveling, I had three prayers: (1) that I would get to meet JP's mother and that it would be a meeting in which God was glorified; (2) that I would understand the truth; and (3) that the Lord would provide a connection in the DRC, so I could know how things worked out and help if it became necessary.  I knew that the mother was ill, and I knew that the extended family was not willing or able to care for JP.  This created a great deal of worry for his well-being.  The first two prayers were answered in country; the third was answered as we returned home.  My private investigator was so moved by the investigation that she has kept in touch with the family.  I never asked her to do so, nor have I made one inquiry, but she has taken the initiative to keep me up-to-date on the family.  My replies must be vague:  we continue to pray for the family.  We can't promise that we will be able to move forward with an adoption, so the family needs to make the best decisions for JP, regardless.  JP is currently still living with his mom.  Her brother forced them to leave their home because he could not care for them, so they are now living with a cousin.  The hearing that I thought was going to be a hearing about JP's well-being was actually a "slander" suit against the mother.  An attorney in the area has agreed to defend her for free.  At this time, the orphan and widow are being cared for by the Lord. I am so thankful for the ability to pray for them, as they walk through this season, and I am encouraged by the Lord's provision amidst a seemingly hopeless situation.

July 10, 2013: I left the DRC, unsure where anything would lead.

July 9, 2013:  Today was the day that I was going to meet JP's mom.  I think that actually deserves its own post: it was such a powerful moment. Because both parties (our in-country rep and the biological family) had begun to make allegations against one another, a civil suit had been filed on July 8.  JP was returned to the family, at the family's request.   So, we met--JP, his mother, his three uncles, my translator, my private investigator, and me.  I learned one important thing at that meeting:  mom willingly abandoned JP to an orphanage last July or August because she was too ill to care for him, but mom did not know he would be adopted.  Once the family met me and knew he would live with someone responsible, they wanted him to be adopted.  But, the ethical considerations were so gray--and the civil dispute and Embassy application so mired--that there was no way to move forward toward adoption as things stood.  I went to my hotel and immediately withdrew my petition.  The Lord, in His time, would have to reveal the next steps.

July 8, 2013:  I met with the US Embassy and received a copy of the discharge and abandonment report in question.  I met with our in-country representative and discovered that these documents included fingerprints, something that were not included on the black-and-white copies provided to the Embassy. It was my full intent to get a fingerprint expert and prove one way or the other what happened.  Unfortunately, the fingerprints were pretty smeared on one of the documents, but there was at least one good print.  I did not know where I would get a stamp pad in the DRC.  Amazingly, I looked in my suitcase, and I had brought a few games in case things worked out (how naive I was at how complicated things had become).  In one of those games was a stamp pad.  Just a little encouragement from God.

July 6-7, 2013:  I flew to DRC.  I was petrified, traveling alone, but also grateful for the opportunity.

July 3, 2013:  On July 3, I received a call from the Embassy. They were alleging some very serious allegations against those who placed JP into an orphanage, and subsequently, up for adoption.  I initially emailed our reps and told them to return him to his mother (who I thought had abandoned him) immediately.  Because the Congolese courts had officially put him into our care, this had to be done through a tribunal.  When looking at the documents, it seemed that some information on the documents--mom's complete, accurate address and JP's proper, full name--did not completely match the story I was being told.  I did not understand why someone involved in criminal activity would voluntarily include this information when "mother unknown" or a new name for our little guy would likely have sufficed.  I woke up in the middle of the night, worried for JP and wanting to know the truth.  The next morning, the representative for our organization said, "You need to go. You need to ask the questions, so that you can understand what happened."

June 2013:  Our little boy attended the visa appointment on June 10.  We expected to hear news within the next few days giving us the okay to go and make JP part of our family.  We waited and waited.   We heard on June 17 that the DRC would resume issuing exit letters.  We purchased tickets for June 25, sure that the visa would be issued by then.  On June 24, we emailed the Embassy, frantic.  They replied to let us know not to come--they had reopened the investigation.

May 2013:  Because a family (not affiliated with us or our organization or even our country, for that matter) completed an adoption that did not meet the criteria for adoption in the DRC, the Congo made an announcement that they would not issue exit letters until they came up with new procedures, essentially closing down adoptions.  We continued to wait.  We heard that another family in our group received a negative finding from the Embassy, so we grew worried amidst all of these issues.  On May 29, we received an email from the Embassy stating that our field investigation was complete.  The visa appointment was scheduled for June 10.  We thought this was the news we had been waiting for.

April 2013:  With the three-month mark coming up, we were growing more anxious and excited.

March 2013:  In the meantime, it was our hope and prayer to raise enough funds that the children at the orphanage for which we raised money for beds and schools could have their own Bible.  The money for each child to have a Bible was raised in about 48 hours.  God is good!

February 2013:  Because of the change in procedures, our Embassy binder--which had already been shipped to the DRC--could not be delivered by our in-country representative.  I (and two other adoptive parents) traveled to DRC to drop our binders off at the Embassy.  We delivered the binders on February 15.  Our waiting period begins. I also got the privilege of seeing our little guy again.

January 2013:  My school and Kate's school raised the money necessary to send 50 kids to school.  What an incredible blessing!  We gathered all of the documents for our Embassy binder, and at the end of the month, we requested an Embassy appointment.  On January 31, the US Embassy announced that they were changing procedures.  Visas would no longer be issued until the field investigation was completed, and the Embassy stated that would take three-to-six months.

December 2012: Received Adoption Decree.  Waiting on other documents to say he is our little boy.  Sent off information for passports, medical exam, exit letter and visa: the items we need to bring him home. Raising funds to send approximately 50 children to school through the sale of "School is Cool!" Bracelets. Adoption Act dated December 29, 2012. The adoption final in the DRC.

November 2012: Waiting game for adoption. In the meantime, raised funds to provide 20 bunk beds for an orphanage in the DRC.  So exciting to see the Lord raise that money in about five weeks time.

October 2012:  USCIS Fingerprinting Appointment.  Visit to the DRC for our IR3 Visa. When we returned from the DRC, USCIS approval already received.

September 2012: WE HAVE A REFERRAL of a sweet little boy.  We found out the agency with which we had question in June 2012 had some "issues" right during that time.  Thank the Lord for discernment.  USCIS Application in the mail.  Dossier sent to the DRC.

August 2012: On the Road Again . . .this time, with an AWESOME organization!

July 2012: Put on the brakes.  Waiting for God's direction in adoption.

A Huge Speed Bump . . .

In continuing with the traffic metaphors used in other posts, we are at a speed bump, if not a stop sign.

The last few weeks have been disappointing at best.  With high hopes of beginning the process to adopt the little boy mentioned in a previous blog, we quickly submitted our application, only to wait two weeks due to "unforeseen circumstances" in the agency's office.  We finally received our approved application and contract--and after raising a few eyebrows over the fees--we had to ask some questions; unfortunately, those questions were never clearly answered.  The Lord has closed the door on adoption from that agency, and there was really a bit of grieving for the little boy that never was.  I believe I will pray for that little boy for many years to come. The Lord knows him, and the Lord hears our prayers. Thank you all for praying for him, and as your hearts are moved for the orphans of the world, maybe the fact that we know him and pray for him, will help shed a light (and hopefully, the Gospel) to his world.

On the same day that I expected to receive some answers from the agency, I received another email with different answers than I had hoped.  To make a long story short, I learned of a group working on the ground in the DRC through a friend's blog.  On a whim, I sent an email to them to see if anyone had opinions on international adoption in the DRC.   The response was timely, and unfortunately, disappointing: Ethical adoption in the DRC--without a trusted contact on the ground--would be extremely difficult, if not "impossible", to achieve.  He did end with a beautiful line, though: "I trust the Lord will grant you success as He is the God of impossible things."



We do not question that ethical adoptions occur, nor do we question that there are many people in the DRC putting the childrens' best interest first, but we do recognize our naivete (and even pride) in thinking that we can sign a contract and write a check and ensure a child would be better off with us than in his/her home country.  And until we can be certain that our adoption would be in a child's best interest, we are going to have to put on the brakes.


We fully trust that the Lord has a plan in this journey.  We are in contact with some amazing ministries in the DRC and look forward to working with them--either through adoption or through aid.  We are checking with domestic agencies to ensure that there are not children available here who would be a good fit for our family.  And we just learned of a ridiculously cool opportunity to grow a church in the Kenya slums (if you would like to know how you could make a HUGE impact on children's lives there and help share Christ, I would love to fill you in). 

Endless Funds . . .

Money.  Yes, this is the sermon we all hate to hear on Sunday morning.  Is he talking to me?  Am I using my money wisely?  How do I give when I feel we are just scraping by?  Philip and I have had the opportunity to be in plenty and to be in want, and in both circumstances, I think we have had the exact same feeling: a desire to be generous with our funds, yet a small, nagging voice that tells us--"Don't be unwise.  Don't give too much because it may run out, and where would you be in an emergency?"  So, we conservatively give and hang on to enough to handle most of life's unexpected costs.  We give with a bit of apprehension and that robs us of joy. 


The amount of money we have in our bank account doesn't change this feeling because how we feel about money is not a matter of finances, but a matter of the heart.  In the Bible, it is clear that every cent we have is a gift of God; it is clear that we are only stewards of His money; it is clear that we should not hoard our resources at the expense of others; and it is clear that we should give from a heart of joy, not fear.  But, when it comes down to it, we don't really--deep-down, in that part that sleeps well at night even when we don't know what tomorrow brings--trust God.  I see this so beautifully with my children.  Any time we discuss people who have less than we do, they are ready to empty every cent from their piggy banks to give to those in need.  Why? Because they trust that we will replenish those bank accounts, that we will provide for their needs, that we have endless funds.  They have seen us feed them, clothe them, and care for them, and they don't question that there will be provision tomorrow.  So, they give freely and joyfully.


When you are in the midst of an adoption, an unfortunate byproduct is that you think about money and your finances a great deal. The budget gets beautifully tight. :) It gives you the opportunity to evaluate how much you really have and how much you can really give.  It is both exhilarating and terrifying.  One of the best resources I have found is the Narratives by George Muller (I downloaded the narratives free on Amazon Kindle and am including a link to a blog devoted to Mr. Muller here).  Mr. Muller lived in the 1800s and raised several million pounds to care for orphans through prayer alone.   He prayed, and God provided.  God's provision increased his faith to pray more.  It created a beautiful relationship between he and His Lord.  When Muller speaks about His reliance on God versus man, he recognizes that those who trust in the Lord will never be confounded.  Men may no longer be able to help or may see fit to give aid to other causes.  But, "in leaning upon the living God alone, we are BEYOND disappointment, and BEYOND being forsaken because of death, or want of means . . .How precious to have learned in any measure to stand with God alone in the world, and yet to be happy, and to know that surely no good thing shall be withheld from us whilst we walk uprightly!"

One

So, after a week or so of finding out more information, we have decided to pursue the adoption of one little boy.  We are still awaiting the acceptance of our application with our new agency, and then we begin the final paper chase to get all documents to them within 30 days (a very reasonable goal, I think).  Once the paperwork is complete, we should be able to fly to the DR Congo within 6-9 months to bring him home.  So, it has been an exciting time.  We are praying for him, and I can picture him in my rearview mirror when driving around town, holding my hand in the parking lot, or climbing into the bunk beds we will soon be adding to our home. Needless to say we are excited.

With that excitement comes a bit of guilt.  My heart has been both joyful and heavy this week.  While we can look at one little face and think, "We want to make you part of our forever family," we have to look at other faces and essentially say, "We can't give you a home right now." And, honestly, that makes me feel guilty.  But, I think those feelings are sinful because they are rooted in my own pride.  See, I can't really "save" anyone.  I can't even "save" the one who we will bring into our home.  Sure, I can give him food, water, and lots of love (and at times, I may even do that poorly), but I can't save him.  Why? Because I am not Jesus Christ.  In Matthew 16:24-26, Jesus reminds us what He alone can offer: "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?"   Making our circumstances better here is not what really saves us.  He must save souls, both those in incredible wealth and incredible poverty.


I just finished reading the book, Kisses from Katie,  about a young American girl serving Christ in Uganda. While she has helped over 400 children receive food, education and medical care--and has adopted 14 young girls of her own--she still struggles over those who continue to suffer.  But, the Lord reminds her that "God's love made known is worth it, even if only to one [child]." (205) This reminds me of Luke 15, which is such a beautiful chapter because it shows through a series of parables the joy and rejoicing in heaven when ONE comes to know Christ.  So, this week I am trying to rejoice over the one and cry out to the One Who Saves for those I cannot bring home: Henock, Chancelle, Sandrine, and millions of other orphans both overseas and here at home. He knows them by name, He knows every hair on their head, He shares in their suffering and He alone can give life.

Thank you!

While we did not intend to fundraise for this adoption, a sweet friend hosted a jewelry party for me with jewelry she acquired from missionaries in India. In the end, she helped us raise $400. Thank you to Jessica and to everyone who was able to attend.

Seeing God in the Bumps . . .

So, this is the week. Our home study is completed, and we are ready to sign an agreement with an agency and make the first big payment. Whew! What an up and down this week has been. For the last month or two, we have been assuming that we would go with the agency that probably has the largest presence in the DR Congo. They are a Christian organization, they have their own orphanage, and the caseworker assigned to the DR Congo is incredible. They travel in groups to the region, and have a full-time staff in the country. They have everything you would hope for, but I just have not been able to sign the documents. One reason I can say is a little boy.  When I first saw his picture two months ago (and this was the set of pictures that broke my heart for the DR Congo), I thought he was the cutest thing. But, we were so far off from having our paperwork done that I never really thought of adopting him. But, now it is time to sign up with an agency and wait for a referral, and he is still waiting (I check back every few days). And, to top it off, two weeks ago, I had a dream that a teenage boy was sitting next to me on the couch (not our couch, not sure where it was), and his name was the name of a little boy on the waiting child website. And, I had this "protective" feeling towards him. I have never been one to have dreams that mean anything (except when I am worried, I do dream that my teeth fall out). Today, I was able to speak with the country coordinator with the little boy's agency, and I learned a few things about him. They actually knew about this little boy, where he had come from, where he was living now. It was so exciting to be talking about a real-life, little boy. So, what's the drawback? First, this agency would cost substantially more. These children are currently living in the rural areas of the DR Congo, and they have to be transported to the capital city. We know money is not a deterrent to God, but in all honesty, it does cause a bit of heartburn for us. Second, this would close the option on a sibling group. While four children has been an overwhelming thought, Kate will be very disappointed not to have a sister. **Although there is a cutie named Sandrine that has captured my heart too. :) So, we invite you to pray with us that God would again show us His will and allow us to have peace with the decision. I ran across this while reading Isaiah the other day (God speaking through Samuel after they sinfully asked for a king), "Do not be afraid; you have done all this evil. Yet do not turn aside from following the Lord, but serve the Lord with all your heart. And do not turn aside after empty things that cannot profit or deliver, for they are empty. For the Lord will not forsake His people, for His great name's sake, because it has pleased the Lord to make you a people for himself. . .Only fear the Lord and serve Him faithfully with all your heart. For consider the great things He has done for you." (I Samuel 12:20-23) These verses are so rich. Today I am fully aware: He has done great things, and we pray for the glory of His name, He will be faithful in our journey. There is a little boy or girl on the other side of the world for which He is jealous. May we be the Gospel to that child.

Doubts . . .

So, after I sent out the last set of posts, one of my dearest friends commented that I would have doubts along the way but that God would be working behind the scenes in ways I would only see in due time. So far, I have had two very specific doubts, and I have seen God specifically speak to me--in unexpected conversations--to allay my fears. First, I was a bit skeptical of international adoption. When you look at reviews and blogs online, you see tons of comments about corruption in foreign countries and the need to ensure ethical adoptions. I feel very comfortable with the agency we have chosen in regards to ethical decisions, but I still struggled with the concept of taking a child from his home country in Africa and uprooting him here to America. Is that best for the country? Is that best for the child? Then, I ran into a fellow mom in Kate's kindergarten class who is from Zambia (she actually moved here just a few years ago). She has seen both the best and worst of Africa, and she assured me that, for those children in the orphanages, adoption is their only hope. That without someone willing to take them in and love them as their own, most of them will grow up on the streets. And that gave me peace. I thought about the boy and the starfish on the sand, who when questioned why he wastes his time because he will never save every starfish and therefore his efforts don't matter, he responds, "It mattered to that one." (not to mention the Parable of the Lost Coin which speaks to the importance of each soul) How sweet for the Lord to place someone who grew up in Africa to speak to me in direct answers to my fears! And how exciting that we get to save ONE of God's children. The other fear I have had is the fear that this would change our family. My kids are really cool kids, and the most amazing thing is that they get along ridiculously well. We have this "perfect" nuclear family with a mom, dad, boy, girl and guinea pig. Things are never complicated, no one is ever left out. It just works. And, they both really want a brother and a sister, yet we are not sure if we will get both. So, I found myself awake worrying about them. Will there be enough money and time for them to chase their passions? Will they lose this incredible friendship they have formed? Will one feel like a "third-wheel" all the time? But, then I went to Bible study last week and the Lord brought a young mom to our group who was leaving for the mission field in a few weeks. Her daughter is one of the sweetest kids I know,and she is going to be living in a different country, most likely going to a school where she will speak a different language. And yet, God has something bigger for this family. When I think of the instructions the Bible gives to parents about raising children, there aren't a ton of verses. Every one I can find boils down to one simple instruction: teach your children the way of the Lord. Telling others about Jesus in a foreign land is clearly the way of the Lord. James says that caring for the orphan is religion acceptable to the Lord. I am pretty comfortable then that, if we are in His will, He will take care of our own children in masterful ways only He can foresee. Aw . . .the Lord at work behind the scenes. Thanks, Holly, for preparing my heart to see His hand!

A One-Car Family?

Yes, we are now a one-car family. Three weeks after our decision to adopt, my husband did something I thought he would never do. I love my husband. He is a wonderful man who is patient and kind and generous. But, he does not take crazy risks, EVER. So, you can imagine my surprise when he emailed me, "Please pray for me, as I feel led to sell my truck." He really loves loved his truck. He enjoyed taking it out hunting; he enjoyed throwing stuff in the back; he enjoyed putting deer horns and camo "stuff" on and in it. It was his one piece of the country in this city life he must now live. So, needless to say, I was a bit floored and a bit apprehensive at this suggestion. But, he never wavered. He posted it on Craiglist the next Wednesday "just to see what would happen", and he transferred title on the following Monday. And, through the entire process, he always said to me, "It's just a truck." And, in the end, it is just a truck. But, it's a whole lot more. It's a chance for us to give a life to someone who would not have one otherwise. And, more than providing for another person's physical and emotional needs, it is a chance for us to share and live the Gospel for that one child. And, it is a chance for our God and Savior to show us His tender mercy through our own adoption as His sons and daughters. And, it is a way for the Lord to show us His amazing provision and His supremacy over all things. With that perspective, a second vehicle is really a small, inconsequential sacrifice. But, one I will be eternally thankful to my husband for making.

Choosing the Birthplace of our Child

In this initial step of the process, I was inspired by a friend who posted about her adoption story. When she went to an orphanage in Haiti to "choose" a child, she described it as "finding her son". To her, the Lord had already chosen him to be their child,and it was a matter of finding the little boy who was already chosen by God. I loved that picture, and I believe it is Biblical. Acts 17:26 tells us that the boundaries of our dwelling place were decided long before we even existed (If I were a saavy enough blogger, I would send a link to her post, but I am not). Narrowing down the location from where you will adopt is a daunting task, especially if you are looking at international adoption, which we are. I have always had an overwhelming love and ache for the continent of Africa. After talking with some fellow adoptive parents, I decided to go with that ache, and through my research, the Democratic Republic of Congo just jumped off the page at me. Perhaps it was the beautiful faces of waiting children in that country. They stole my heart, and the heart of my sweet, once-reluctant husband. A few weeks after we decided to pursue adoption through the DRC, Philip and I were watching TV (something we do once a month or so). And what was on? A 60 Minutes special on a symphony orchestra in the capital city of the DRC, Kinshasa. How wonderful to see that country and to know that we will be forever linked to it and the people therein.