May Days

Forget December.  Never mind the other ten.  The month of May, hands down, wins the award for the busiest and most memory-making month of the year.

May has had me moving back and forth from the urgent to the important and back again that I have completely neglected this little blog for over a month.

So I thought I'd catch us all up, including myself, on what our little family of four has been up to the past five weeks.

Let's start with softball.  Around here we love ball.  The oldest plays.  The youngest is preparing to play.  Daddy coaches and Mama cheers.  We were fortunate to have had an amazing little team this season.  Our favorite team by far.  It was a joy spending most of this month in the dirt with them. 

Biggest lesson the team learned this season:  Listen to your coach.  Trust him, no matter what.  When he says, "Go", go.  When he says, "Stop", stop.  Such simple instructions for young softball players. Resonates loudly with us adults as well.  Yep. That'll preach.

Next up in May was Mother's Day.  Spent some quality time with my Mama the night before.  A little dinner.  A little shopping.  Some new accessories.  Win-win for all.

Received some super-sweet, heart-felt gifts this year, including a desperately-needed flat iron from my girls and my husband.  So long, frizzy, untamed hair. 

Abandoned the family after church and took off with my friend, Terri, for an atypical, unorthodox way of spending Mother's Day.  Lunch and shopping at the mall.  Just the two of us.  Absolutely loved it.  New tradition?  Maybe. After all, we moms spend the other 364 days of the year with our kiddos, right?

Wrapped up our fifth year teaching AWANA Cubbies at our church.  Such a huge blessing for us to be a part of such a great program and to teach some really precious children.  So proud of our own girls for working so hard memorizing scripture and hiding God's word in their hearts! 

Concerning the adoption, we worked on completing some necessary requirements for the home study portion of this process.  Physicals.  Fingerprinting.  References.  Lots of reading.  Lots of paperwork. We also went to our first adoption support dinner, connected with some new friends, and followed along as a family from our agency was the first to complete an adoption from India.  We rejoice with them as their nearly four-year journey to adopt their daughter has officially and finally come to an end.  You can read some of their story here http://bringingjustice.blogspot.com/.

We had another very, or should I say, "berry" blessed fundraiser.  Following two trips to the local strawberry patch, and after making one batch of homemade jam, my husband suggested we make and sell additional jars of jam to raise funds for the adoption.  We did.

The result:  "Pearl Jam".  Appropriately named for our little Pearl in India.  (I plan to blog about her name and how we came to rest upon it soon, so stay tuned.)  Thanks to so many friends and family, we sold 50 jars of this strawberry goodness.  I'd say "Pearl Jam" was a "jam-up" success!

What would May be without a graduation?  Even though we predominantly homeschooled this year, my youngest also attended Pre-K three mornings a week.  She had a wonderful year and is excited to be home with us full-time in the fall for kindergarten. Congratulations to our little graduate who is growing up way, way too fast!

Another big event this May...Celebrating Little Miss's 5th birthday!

This year it was all about beautiful, fluttering butterflies, so we gathered every thing that had wings and could fly. 

For starters, we ordered ten caterpillars from an online insect company.  We wanted to raise some butterflies, and then release them at the end of the party.  Prior to the party, we got to watch the ten fuzzy, crawly creatures eat their food over a period of a week, climb to the top of their container, change into a chrysalis and another week later, emerge into stunning butterflies. 

Even as many times as I've watched this process take place (when I taught first grade in a public school, and the times I've done it with my own girls here at home), it never fails to blow my mind.  The metamorphosis is indescribable. Creator God takes the greatest of care of every tiny detail in every tiny life.  Off with the old.  Hello to the new.  Two words.  Simply amazing.

Because the caterpillars arrived much earlier than we expected, we faced the tough job of keeping the butterflies alive until the party, which wasn't for another three weeks.  We fed them.  We took care of them.  And since we had moved them into a large butterfly pavilion, we could sit inside and observe them--how they ate, how they fluttered around, and how they interacted with each other (yes, they seemed to get along pretty well, if you know what I mean). 

 And just as we planned, at the end of the birthday party, we let them go. They were able to fly as they were created to do.  Out of the tent and into the world. 

It was happy moment.  But it was also sad.  After caring for these tiny creatures for almost a month, I was glad they were free, spreading their wings and fluttering everywhere. But at the same time, our house suddenly seemed a little lonlier and a little less active.

I couldn't help but think of all the parents whose children just graduated from high school this May and are headed off to explore new places, moving from the constant care they've known and the security they've relied upon.  A season filled with mixed emotions for sure.  A season marked by metamorphosis.

As this fifth month of the year comes to an end, I am choosing to hold on to the fleeting moments with the two little butterflies still reliant upon my care.  I want to watch them grow, change, and prepare themselves for the future God has waiting for them.  And when it's their time, they'll spread their wings and fly.  Just like they are destined to do.

I'll admit, I'm not looking forward to that day.  Not. At. All.  Whether I'm ready for it or not, that day will be here soon enough.  No, instead, I am perfectly content to be living in the midst of these busy, yet memory-making, May days right now.

It Took a Village

It's been said, "It takes a village to raise a child." 

But concerning our adoption, I've said, "It'll take a village to help us get our child."

The good news...

I've found the village. 

And to all the village people who helped us this past weekend pull off the most amazing first fundraiser ever, thank you.  We are in debt to you. 

Why? 

Because...

You prayed.

You spread the word.

You donated things for us to sell.

You priced the items.

You organized and sorted the massive pile of stuff.

You loaded the trailers the night before.

You unloaded the trailers the next morning.

You set up over twenty tables.

You put up eleven tents.

You unpacked boxes.

You willingly baked brownies, cookies, cupcakes, truffles, and other delicious goodies for us to sell.

You purchased water bottles and sodas for us to sell.

You put on aprons, rolled up your sleeves and you worked.

You carried the purchases to the cars of those who bought them.

You brought us dinner one night, lunch the next day.

You shopped.  You brought your kids to shop.

You handed us checks.

You shared our story with anyone who had time to listen.

You stood on the side of the road, beckoning people to come.

You helped us break it all down and pack it all up at the end.

You encouraged us.

You supported us.

You gave--your time, your energy, your love.

We couldn't have done it without you. 

Because of God's favor and you, we had the most successful yard sale I've heard of to date.

Over $4100 was raised for our adoption fund!  Yep.  That's right.  $4100!

Astounding.  Mind-blowing.  Remarkable.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you. 

Seriously. 

Thank you.

"God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams!"

Ephesians 3:20 (The Message)

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

International adoption.  Nearly everything about it screams, "Mountain!"

Long wait = Big mountain

Paperwork and more paperwork = Big mountain

Communication with a foreign country = Big mountain

Some moments all I can see is one gigantic mountain after another looming in front of me.

But none is more intimidating than the mountain of money needed to get our little girl from India and bring her home.

Our agency estimates the final cost of this adoption to be between $30,000-$35,000 when all is said and done.  Yes.  That sounds like a lot of money.  Why?  Because it is! 

So, what is our one-income family to do?  Do we raise high our white flag and say we quit?  That we don't have these kind of financial resources?  That we can't do it?

Actually, we do.  We lift our white flag of surrender and say that we, in fact, are unable to make this adoption happen.  Left on our own, we cannot do it.  But God...

Whenever I feel completely overwhelmed by these mountains, God is faithful to remind me He is the Mountain Mover.  He is the only One who can do it.  But He also reminds me of my part the exact moment I start to doubt.

He replied, “Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain,

‘Move from here to there’ and it will move.

Nothing will be impossible for you.” Matthew 17:20

No mountain is too high or too strong or too invincible.  I do have faith.  Even if it's teeny-tiny some days.  Just like a mustard seed.  

So, how are we going to move this mountain of money?  We will pray.  We will save.  We will fundraise.

For starters, we have planned our first official adoption fundraiser for next weekend, a huge yard sale across the street from our church.

We have asked anyone and everyone, as they "spring clean", to reserve a pile for us, to set aside items they no longer need and are willing to let us sell at our sale.  We are praying for lots of donations, lots of customers, and lots of sunshine!

We have also sent a letter out to friends and family asking for prayer, as well as, for monetary donations.  My Mom always taught me, "It never hurts to ask.  All they can say is, 'No'."  So, humbly, we've asked others to come alongside us and contribute to our journey.

And with grateful hearts, we can say we nearly have a tenth of what is needed!  It's definitely more than we had and we are thankful.  So thankful. 

We are working on ideas for other fundraisers following the yard sale, and just last night, we added a "Donate" button to this blog.  If you are able, please consider clicking the button in the right hand margin to donate to our quest to bring our Indian daughter home.  We would be so grateful!

Lastly, I just have to share the song I've had in my head and in my heart over the past couple of months.  I've been singing it to my little girl in a faraway land and at the same time I've sensed the Lord has been singing it over me. :) The lyrics remind me of why we are doing what we are doing.  Mountains and all.

"Ain't no mountain high enough

Ain't no valley low enough

Ain't no river wide enough

To keep me from you."

Diana, take it away...

Sweet little one, we're coming.  We have some mountains to climb and some mountains to move, but we're coming.  Don't worry.  Ain't no mountain high enough to keep us from you.

An Easy Button

You've seen one of these contraptions, right?  You press the button and it says, "That was easy."

I was thinking today how nice it would be to have an easy button for any event or circumstance in my life.  Simply press the button and it's done.  Not only done, but done with very little effort or hard work on my part. 

Just easy.

Unfortunately, over the years, I've learned life does not work that way.  Not. At. All.

Most things, if done well and done correctly, are not easy.  As a matter of fact, they're just the opposite.  They're downright hard.  

It seems as if our family is entering the first "hard" phase of the adoption process.  The task of raising the necessary funds to be able to adopt.

We are planning our first fundraiser--a yard sale slated for next month.  With all the logistics, collections, and planning to be taken care of in such a short time, I find myself wishing for an easy button.  Like yesterday.  And boy, would I be pressing the mess out of it right now!

Last week I had an impromptu conversation with my friend concerning our present status with the adoption and I said to her, "I wish we had been more frugal in the past, saved a ton of money and had all we needed set aside to fund this adoption.  Or I wish someone really wealthy and generous would just write a check to fund the whole thing.  In either scenario, we could just be done with it."

My wise friend's response, "But that would have been too easy."  She was right.  And I knew it. 

It's in and through the very difficult, very hard circumstances in our lives where our faith has the chance to grow.  It's also where God works.  If we were capable of starting and completing this whole endeavor ourselves, then it would wind up being all about us and our abilities.  But because we can't, it's all about God and His power to do the impossible.  It's also about allowing others to participate in the process. 

Faith doesn't come easy either. 

My hunch is it wasn't too easy for Noah to continue to build the ark in the midst of constant ridicule and lack of knowledge.   But as Noah persisted in the hard work, his faith grew and he went down in history as a man who obeyed God, all because of his faith.

It also wasn't easy for Moses to keep the faith when he had to face Pharaoh and tell him to let God's people go.  But he trusted God even when returning to Egypt was extremely hard.

It couldn't have been easy for David to believe being king would actually happen, even after being anointed by Samuel. But David kept the faith and trusted even when the waiting was long and hard.

I'm sure these three biblical heroes would have loved an easy button.  Press and be done with it.

Easy buttons don't exist now and they certainly didn't back then.

And just like these three biblical heroes, sometimes it isn't easy for us to believe God can and will fulfill his seemingly impossible promises either, but we must trust Him.  We must believe.  We must have faith.  When it's hard.  Especially when it's hard.

"I am the LORD, the God of all mankind.

Is anything too hard for me?"

"Ah Sovereign LORD, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and outstretched arm. 

Nothing is too hard for you." Jeremiah 32:27;17

What a relief to know the One I love, the One I trust, the One I follow doesn't need an easy button anyway. 

Nothing is too hard for Him.  Absolutely nothing.

Risky Business

"Family freely assumes the risks..."

While reading and signing the 20-page contract sent from our adoption agency, I found myself zeroing in on one particular word in that phrase. 

Risks.

The document stated that "international adoption is a complex process, often involving circumstances beyond the agency's control..."

Risks. 

Those things you spend your life trying to avoid because you know they could cause trouble or bring you unnecessary harm. 

Risks.

Your lungs are at risk if you choose to smoke.

Overexposure to harmful UV rays increases your risk of developing skin cancer.

Not wearing a seat belt greatly increases the risk of being injured or killed in a car accident.

Investing all your money in the uncertain stock market could be a risk to your stable financial future.

If you use this particular medication, you are at risk for liver damage.

Danger:  Enter at your own risk.

risk - possibility of suffering harm or loss; potential peril; uncertain danger; presumed threat; chance of trouble

I admit my naivete.  I admit my lack of knowledge.  I admit I've thought adoption to be a lot of things.  But the word, "risk" had yet to cross my mind.  Until now.

I had to put the pen down.  I had to think, to really think over all of the possible risks the agency had just listed.  There were a lot.  A whole lot.  Including the whole darn thing following apart all together.

Bottom line:  there are no guarantees. 

Not one.  Not even after all our paperwork is completed and mailed off.  Not even after all our fundraising and payments are processed.  Not even after all our wanting and waiting. 

Adoption is a risky business. 

At the bottom of the last page were two lines marked with an "X". 

My line:
Prospective Mother's signature
X_______________________

My husband's line:
Prospective Father's signature
X_______________________

And above both lines, were these words,

"We have been informed...and freely accept the risks."

Do we?  Do we freely and fully accept the risks?

Both of us stopped.  We held hands and we prayed.  We sought guidance from the One who called us to this journey in the first place.  And in that holy moment, peace prevailed and we were reminded of these simple facts:

Driving a car is risky.
Buying a home is risky.
Starting a new job is risky.
Making new friends is risky.
Giving my heart to another is risky.
Saying "I do" is risky.
Carrying a baby for nine months is risky.
Being a parent is risky.
Stepping out in faith is risky.
Loving big is risky.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose."

~ Jim Elliot, missionary in Ecuador; lost his life by the Waodani tribe warriors

And yet even in the midst of all the possible risks, I rest in these constant certainties:

• Jesus promised, "I am with you, always" (Matthew 28:20). 
• He said, "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you" (Hebrews 13:5).
• He will remain faithful, even when I am faithless. (2 Timothy 2:13).

"If anyone comes after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit his very self?"

~ Jesus

All of life is risky business. Period.

But if I never take the risk, how will I ever know the reward?

So I pick up my pen and I sign on the line.  Freely assuming and accepting the risks.  Knowing full-well that adoption is a risky business and we are entering at our own risk.

"If you're not willing to give up everything, you've already lost."

~ film, Act of Valor

Our "Yes" is on the Table

Just about every Sunday morning, right before our pastor steps up to the podium to deliver the message to the church body, our worship pastor unashamedly and passionately prays these words over us: 

"God, we choose to put our 'Yes' on the table right now. 

Let us be doers of Your Word and not hearers only."

Translation:  Whatever the Lord tells us to do today, do it. 

No matter how hard it seems. 
No matter how afraid we are. 
No matter how much sacrifice it will take. 
No matter how we think it might inconvenience us.
No matter how it may interfere with our lives.
No matter what others might think. 
Just do it.  Just obey.

Over the last several months, Derek and I have sensed a very new and very profound plan for our family during this season in our lives.  Something neither my husband, nor I, would have ever dreamed or imagined or thought of by ourselves.

"No eye has seen, no ear as heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him, but God has revealed it to us by His Spirit." 1 Corinthians 2:9-10

A gentle, yet firm nudging upon our spirits.  
An unrelenting, overwhelming pressing in our gut.
An all-encompassing sensory onslaught within our minds and upon our hearts. 

Through confirmation upon confirmation, the Lord has unmistakably revealed His desire for our family and the new adventure He has set before us.

Without keeping you in suspense a moment longer...

*(insert drum roll, please)*

God is leading our family toward adoption!  More specifically, to adopt a little girl from India. 

Our response:  "Yes, Lord!"

God is so good and so gracious and so patient as He has been preparing us for this commitment.  Over time He has opened our eyes to the world in which we live.  I'm ashamed to admit that even though we have taught and served and obeyed for much of our adult Christian lives, we have done so mostly for those within the confines of our own church building and mostly for ourselves. 

But God has been calling us to step out of the familiar and the comfortable and look for ways to honor others above ourselves, particularly children.  Particularly children living in extreme poverty.  Particularly children around the world with no mother, no father.  The homeless.  The loveless. Orphans.

In scripture, our heavenly Father is seen as a "Helper of the fatherless" (Ps. 10:14 - NIV) and an "Advocate for orphans" (Prov. 23:10 - The Message).

As it turns out, God's heart is for adoption, with the central gospel message serving as the epitome of adoption.  His love pursued us when we were alienated, unlovable, and all alone.

Because of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross and His unwillingness to think only of Himself, the good news is that we were not left alone.  In fact, as children of God, we have been adopted into God's family and are now co-heirs with Him, sharing in all the Father has given the Son. 

We've all been adopted! (Rom. 8:15-17)

What an amazing picture for us to emulate! 

So with overwhelming joy and excitement, our family is jumping in, feet first.

No cautious tip-toeing into these waters of uncertainty.  No ma'am.  No sir.

Just a giant cannon ball into the depths of the unknown.  But we're okay with that. 

Why?  Because we follow a God who walks upon the water.  And as long as we follow where He's leading, we're good.  Actually, I surmise we're better than good.

So humbly, we ask these things of you right now:
1. Please pray for us.  We need it. 
2. Please pray for our daughter on the other side of the world.  She needs it.

"Simply let your 'Yes' be 'Yes'..." Matthew 5:37

**(Yes, there are like a million other details as to how God initiated this journey and how He confirmed it, which I will try to share along the way.  But if you'd like the story first-hand, and a little sooner, invite us to dinner and we'd be glad to share our hearts with you. :)  We really enjoy eating what someone else took the time to prepare. :))**

It's Not How You Start

My husband and I like to run.  Not crazy marathon running.  More like simple, leisurely runs.  A couple times a year we might run a six-miler together.  Other than that, we stick to the less strenuous, three-mile outings.  

For a very worthy cause, we chose to participate in another 5K this past Saturday.  This 5K was not in our hometown, nor was it a familiar race to us.  As a matter of fact, this supposedly simple 5K turned out to be the hardest course we've encountered to date. 

In the midst of all my huffing and puffing while running, a few epiphanies struck my mind and heart.  After sorting through them, I thought I'd share five lessons I learned during that brief, but tough, thirty minutes:

1.  Details are important.
As in all the other 5K's we've run, we assumed we would be running on pavement.  But just minutes from arriving at the race, I checked the website and was surprised to find that the race terrain was listed as "dirt, rocks, and wood chips."  

Fact #1: We do not own trail running shoes.  
Fact #2: We wore our newest, cleanest Asics to the race. 
Fact #3: We were less than thrilled about tramping through muddy trails, especially after three days of consecutive rain.
Fact #4: We ran it anyway. 

Mark my word, though.  Next time we'll pay more attention to the details.

2. I can do hard.
From the moment the race began, and I started sloshing through the muck and mire, I had a feeling this was going to be a hard run.  Headed into the second mile of the race, I started up the first of four very large hills.  You know, the kind Jack and Jill probably tumbled down? 

At first glance I thought, "No big deal.  I got this."  But halfway up the hill, I had to stop running and walk.  And I never stop in a race.  I may slow down, but I certainly never stop.  Slowly, but steadily, I made my way to the top and continued my run, despite how hard it was. 

The good news is that I didn't have to stop at the second mountain, er, hill.  Or the third.  On the fourth.  Nope.  I'd convinced myself that I could do it--no matter how hard it was. 

Yes, my heart was beating hard.  Yes, I was breathing hard.  But I did not quit. 

Maybe, just maybe,  I can do hard.

3. It's okay not to know the whole route before you run it.
The planner in both my husband and me wished we knew where we headed when the race began.  The most frustrating part was running up a hill and having no idea what awaited us at the top.  Or around the corner. 

It certainly would have been easier to have had a bird's eye view of the course. 

We could have anticipated the intimidating hills, prepared ourselves for them and conquered them.  We could have avoided the huge mud puddles before we were right upon them. 
We could have side-stepped the large rocks and tree roots protruding from the ground, all silently waiting to trip up an ill-prepared or less vigilant runner, causing him/her to stumble and fall.

Unfortunately, we didn't know the route beforehand.  Nope.  Instead, we had to run by faith. 

4. Don't worry.  Just follow the narrow path marked out for you.
This lesson follows on the heels of #3.  Just into the heavily wooded course, I looked down and noticed bright green, florescent arrows spray-painted on the ground. 

Someone had gone before us.  Someone who knew the way marked out the path for us.  We didn't need to worry about getting lost.  We didn't need to concern ourselves with not knowing where to go.

No worry.  No fear.  All we had to do was trust and follow the path marked out for us, straight to the finish line.

5. It's not how you start.  It's how you finish.
As soon as the announcer said, "Go!", I knew I was going to struggle with this race.  The terrain was unfamiliar, the ground was soggy, and my legs were already sore from a fierce leg workout just days earlier.  My thoughts ranged from "Do the best you can" to "I just don't want to get hurt" to "I am not going to have a good finishing time" to a host of others.  I didn't feel I started well.  I felt nervous, uncertain, and slow. 

Cautious?  Yep.  That's me. 
Calculated?  Guilty. 
Analytical?  Me again.

But typically, it's only in the beginning phase of any given event in my life.  After a slow start, my boldness increases.  Trust takes over.  Faith claims the victory.

Same thing is true in this 5K.  After a hesitant first mile, I got my second wind.  Instead of only looking down, I started to look up and around at my surroundings.  I passed a serene lake and gorgeous foliage.  I felt the warm sunshine and breathed in the cool winter air.  I started to rest, even while I was running.  I began to enjoy the adventure along the way.

As the final leg of the race came into view, I took off.  Faster and faster.  Eager to finish well.  Motivated to come close to the goal I'd set for myself.

I knew my start was less than desirable.  I knew it wasn't picture-perfect.  But I had hope my finish could be better. 

And ultimately in the end, that's the most important lesson for us all.

It's not how you start.  It's how you finish that counts. 

So, here's to life lessons.  Here's to perseverance.  Here's to strong finishes. 

‎"Go with God as He goes after your circumstances. Pursue what you know to be true of God. Continue in worship and trusting. The outcome is God's part; the process is ours."

Graham Cooke