What Just Happened?!? (Our Confirmation to Adopt)

It's been a year since it happened.
It's been shared in conversations. 
And now, after a year, it has finally been written down.

O Lord my God, you have performed many wonders for us.
Your plans for us are too numerous to list.
You have no equal.
If I tried to recite all your wonderful deeds,   

I would never come to the end of them. Psalm 40:5 (NLT)

On December 26, 2011, my husband and I left his parents' home near Augusta, Georgia, where we'd just spent Christmas Day, and took off in search of some after-Christmas bargains as we do every year.

At the first store, we ran into a long-time friend of ours from college.  Brad, and his wife Chrystal, "just happened" to still be in the area even though they usually spend Christmas in Macon.  They also "just happened" to go into the very same store we were shopping in that day, a store in which they've never previously shopped.  We stopped to chat and both being kid-less for the afternoon, decided to continue our conversation with an impromptu lunch at the local Red Robin restaurant.

The actual Red Robin where the actual event took place.

What I already knew about Brad and Chrystal is that they had recently announced plans for their family to pursue adoption domestically.  Wanting to hear their story, I began asking questions.  Lots of questions.

For some crazy reason, I was VERY interested in hearing EVERY detail they could give.  As Chrystal explained her life-long passion for adoption, I was overcome with the pureness and unselfishness of her soul.  She truly cared for orphans, whereas I had only just begun to become aware.  She oozed love, the raw gospel kind and I found myself drawn to her words, but still struggling to personalize them in my own life.

What I didn't know was that God was about to begin writing a new chapter in the story of our family at that ordinary table on that seemingly ordinary day.


The actual booth in the actual Red Robin where the actual event took place.

At some point in our conversation, my husband and I began to open up and tell our friends of our hearts' recent nudging toward India.  We told of our "India onslaught":  the numerous, unexplained encounters we'd already had with people, situations, etc. relating to that nation. 

We told them how our hearts broke when we learned of the female gendercide situation there from a 20/20 news program earlier in the month.  We told them of the little girl, Kinnera, we chose to sponsor in India through Compassion International.  And we shared with them how we cannot seem to stop our prayers from gravitating toward India, a country which we'd never even given a second thought to in the past.

The more we talked, the more they listened.  And the more they listened, the more unsettled I began to feel. 

Suddenly, mid-sentence, my face and upper-body was overcome with extreme heat.  I began sweating profusely, and as a result, started tugging at the wool scarf encircling my neck.

Puzzled, our friends just watched as I tried to regain my composure and cool myself down from this crazy and intense physical reaction.

Brad: "Are you okay?"

Me: "Yeah...I think."

Brad: "What is that on your neck?"

Me (still tugging at scarf): "I...don't...know...what is it?"

Brad:  "It looks like you're breaking out into a rash."

Me:  "What?!?  Where?!?"

Brad:  "Oh my word...and I think...I think the rash is in the shape of...India."

He was kidding.  There was no rash.  Especially not one in the shape of India, though that would have been very cool.

After the laughter at the table died down, the dialogue continued...

Me:  "Whew.  Not sure what just happened there..."

Brad:  "Yeah...well, who knows?  Maybe God is telling y'all you need to adopt a little girl, from India."

Me (picking my jaw up off the table, and boldly declaring):  "Brad, if God wants us to adopt a little girl from India, then the next person who walks past this table, will be...will be a little girl from India."

Wait for it...because quite frankly, I couldn't have written this part better myself.

In the middle of Red Robin, in the midst of a very "white" community, five seconds later, this happens...

Back to our lunch and back to our conversation, we look up and see a dark-haired, dark-skinned, little girl (clearly of Indian heritage) walk by our table, pause and look over her shoulder before continuing on toward the restroom.

I did a double-take and looked up at Chrystal, as if to say, "Uh...did you just see what I just saw?"

She did.  We all did.  Impossible to miss.

Following closely behind the little girl was her mother and little brother.  And we were left with no doubt about their family's ethnicity.

We were also left with no words.  Only a stunned silence remained.
Without intending to, I'd just stepped onto holy ground.  I'd just laid a fleece out upon the table and God clearly answered.  No coincidence.  No mistake about it.

When I thought I was only joking around, God responded with something serious and intensely personal.

Because last I checked, adoption is a very serious and intensely personal matter with Him.

It took a minute for all four of us to regain ourselves.  Our friends were stunned.  My husband had a perplexed, but peaceful look of disbelief on his face.  And me?  Well, I felt I was on the verge of an all-encompassing nervous breakdown.  Total freak-out mama moment coming on. 

What just happened?  How did a simple shopping trip and lunch with friends turn into such a monumental, life-changing event?

Driving back to my in-law's house, a strange, but exciting silence filled the car. 

I looked over at my husband and asked, "What just happened?  Did God really just confirm what I think he confirmed in one simple moment?  Why would He want us to adopt?"

Looking over at me with a smirk on his face, my husband simply and calmly responded, "Why not?"

Here we are now...one year later. 

As our journey toward adoption continues, we are still amazed at how clear His call for us was that cold December day a year ago.  Even on the full-of-doubt days and the "Did we hear correctly days?", we go back.  We go back and intentionally recall this real and very personal story to remind our hesitant hearts that yes, that really did happen.  We even have witnessess to prove it. :)

It reminds us that He planned this long before we ever had an inkling to His plan.  Long before we ever felt the desire for this plan. 

Since then, He has confirmed His plan repeatedly and in many similar and very personal ways (far too many to recount or retell).  His sacred echoes have been everywhere.  And we're learning to open our ears to listen and our eyes to see more because we don't want to miss a thing!

O Lord my God, you have performed many wonders for us.
Your plans for us are too numerous to list.
You have no equal.
If I tried to recite all your wonderful deeds,

I would never come to the end of them. Psalm 40:5 (NLT)

 

A Grinch's Prayer

As ashamed as I am to admit it, the Grinch and I share a similar past.

Not in the... "I hate Christmas, so I'll steal gifts and trees and lights and happiness right out from under everyone on Christmas Eve" way.

No.  Not at all.  Because, unlike the Grinch, I really, really love Christmas.

Instead, it was more on the lines of..."I think the most likely reason of all…may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.”

In past Christmases, I remember the internal struggle I had whenever I heard that description to explain the Grinch's personality and the reason for his less-than-acceptable behavior.

Maybe that was me, too.

Given any personality test in years past, I'd score high on thinking, low on feeling.  High on analyzing and judgment.  Low on sympathy and mercy.

I rarely cried and was rarely moved to tears by others' situations and suffering.  I cared.  At least I thought.  At least I tried.  But in truth, more often than not, I turned my head, closed my eyes, or pretended not to hear the cries of the needy and the most vulnerable.

And though I'd never considered myself a taker, I'd never described myself as a giver either.  It's not that I was opposed to giving or that I hadn't given or that I didn't give. 

I had.  I did.

It's just that giving didn't seem to overflow naturally from me like it did from so many others I knew.

The hard reality:  I needed some supernatural help with my seemingly small heart.  The heart defect had to go.  My heart needed to grow.

So I prayed.  One simple prayer.  One very short, life-altering prayer. 

(I feel the need to offer a word of caution here.  You may not want to pray this prayer unless you really, seriously...like really, seriously mean it.  Consider yourself warned.)

"Lord, break my heart for what breaks yours."

 

What breaks the heart of God?  Here's my short list:

The lost.  The vulnerable.  The oppressed.  The captive.  The lonely.  The needy.  The helpless.  The poor.  The sick.  The persecuted.  The wounded.  The widow.  The orphan.

That one prayer changed my whole perspective on God and others.  No longer can I sit back and watch, content to stay within my own world, doing my own thing, for my own pleasure. 

No longer can I look at the needs, both here and there, and think, "There are just so many. I'm only one person so I won't be able to do much." 

Instead, I need to help.  I want to bless.  I'm compelled to give.  Something.  Anything.  Not sparingly, but generously.  Not under compulsion, but from a full heart.  A heart which has been given so much.

Weeks ago, I wrote down a specific list of giving opportunities I was aware of this holiday season.  Knowing it was not possible for our family to give to all of them, I narrowed the list to several things/people/ministries which resonated both with us and the heart of God.  And we focused our giving to that list.

And with each giving opportunity, I'm learning a valuable lesson.  Giving takes practice.  Lots of it.  Like learning to play a musical instrument or a new sport, giving is a skill.  The more you do it, the better you become at doing it. 

I'm grateful for these opportunities.  They have given me the chance to put into practice what I'm learning.

In 2 Corinthians 8:7, the apostle Paul said,

"See also that you excel in this grace of giving."

 

Paul knew that left on our own, we will hoard.  We will keep instead of give.  We will continue to store up temporary trinkets for ourselves.  But because God has been so incredibly generous to us, He calls us to store up eternal treasures on behalf of others and for His name's sake instead. 

 

Clinching closed fists less.  Extending open palms more.  

Not to receive, but to give.  Because the more I try to hold on to my life or my stuff, the more I lose it. The more I let go, the more I gain.

Including a bigger, growing heart.  A more generous heart.  A heart that breaks for what breaks His.

(To all my friends and family who possess such giving hearts, thank you. 

I have learned much from your example.)

 

Struggling with Wonderful

The fact that it's Monday and it's rained all day doesn't help.

The fact that nearly every social media post and every news report on television screams a reminder of the horrific tragedy last Friday in Connecticut.

The fact that my husband steps into a public school everyday and works with middle schoolers, often undisciplined, unstable, unpredictable middle schoolers.

The fact that my uncle remains in the hospital after a week's stay, fighting for his life and facing surgery tomorrow from a staph infection, finally identified and located in his spine.

The fact that days before Christmas, my friend's young son, also waits in the hospital, recovering from serious surgery following his year-long battle with bone cancer.

The fact that another dear friend is nursing her husband back to health after his near-death accident, falling 24 feet, head-first off a ladder, onto a concrete driveway.  Never did my friend expect hanging a wreath above a garage would lead to her husband's jaw being wired shut, missing teeth, broken bones, and a near loss of his life.

The fact that another friend's desperate wish to have her adopted son home from India before Christmas appears to be dimming.

The fact that I know of three precious women, newly and unexpectedly widowed this Christmas, facing the days and traditions ahead without their husbands, alone.

The fact that I continue to read from organizations about more children being taken, tortured and trafficked against their will, every hour, here and across the globe.

The fact that so many of my friends and family members have succumbed to seasonal illnesses such as the flu and stomach bugs.

And finally, the fact that in one day we seem to be losing light in our house--with a third of the Christmas lights on one of our trees burned out and two prominent lamps' bulbs as well.

Staring at the tree and the lamps, I can't help but feel the same.  A little less shiny.  A little less bright.  Struggling to stay lit, fighting against the darkness.  Dimming in the midst of today.

On the radio, Christmas carols play.  One in particular catches my attention.  The tune is popular and inviting.  But today, I struggle with the lyrics, meaning what I sing.

"It's the most wonderful time of the year..."

Is it?  Wonderful?  Isn't it supposed to be? 

So, why is it so hard to believe this week, particularly in light of recent events?  Especially in such darkness?

My pastor asked this question of us yesterday, "How does God respond to darkness?" 

His answer: "Jesus". 

Why?  Because He's the Light of the world.  And light always threatens darkness.

Jesus.  Immanuel, "God with us".  He was here thousands of years ago because we needed Him then. He's here today because we need Him now.  Desperately need Him now.

In this dark world, we still have the chance to be brighter.  Brighter than the evil and uncertainty that surrounds us. 

"...declaring the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light." 

1 Peter 2:9

So, today I go back to the prophecy of Scripture.  I exchange my struggling thoughts and struggling questions to Someone who can counsel me.

Not just any counselor.  A Wonderful Counselor. 

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

Isaiah 9:6

He is wonderful when the world is not.  His wonderful act of coming to us, rescuing us from the darkness of our sin, gave us the light of life.  And because of Him, we are given a wonderful life.  Forever.

Focusing on that truth, celebrating His wonderful acts and wonderful works on our behalf, reminds me what this season truly is...the most wonderful time of the year. 

Two in One

Today's post...a short, but oh, so very sweet update!

We got two AMAZING pieces of news regarding the adoption in just one week's time.

1.  We were given word that the Promise686 adoption grant we'd applied for back in early November had been awarded to us!  This matching grant is substantial and will help us TREMENDOUSLY as we work toward finalizing the necessary financial obligations in this process.

(Promise686 is a new non-profit ministry dedicated to serving the needs of “the fatherless” both here and abroad. They are committed to inspiring and equipping families in the North Atlanta area to foster and adopt with the goal of placing children in loving, permanent, Christian homes. They believe this is God’s heart and have taken the name for this ministry from the promise found in Psalms 68:6a.

“God sets the lonely in families…”

 

God is already about this work, and they desire to join him in this by assisting families through community support, financial assistance and education.)

Thank you, Promise686 for your overwhelmingly generous gift!

2.  Next, our agency emailed us to let us know that CARA (governing agency in India pertaining to all things adoption) has finally matched us with an orphanage! 

After waiting a little over two months, we know the city!  That's big news, people! 

Next step in the process...waiting for the referral.  Basically, the referral is when the orphanage takes our homestudy and dossier (tons of detailed information about our family) and matches us with a child based upon that information.  No timeline regarding when this will happen, so we wait patiently until it comes to pass.

For now, we are reveling after receiving two GINORMOUS pieces of good news in just one week. 

Thank you for praying faithfully.  Your prayers have helped to move two big mountains this week!

Unoffendable

 

My husband scanned the crowded lot for a parking space close to the store front.  He spotted a lady walking to her car, getting ready to leave. As any mature driver would, he paused, turned on his blinker and waited until she backed out so he could make the left turn in. 

Just as she was exiting the parking space, another car approached from the opposite direction.  The young, inexperienced driver drove up, completely oblivious to us waiting patiently in front of her, and selfishly hooked her car into the spot.

Honking the horn several times in an attempt to get her attention, my husband rolled down his window.  The girl was unfazed as she pulled in and turned off her ignition. 

"Oh no, she didn't." 

Neither of us could believe this driver's audacity.  She blatantly ignored us.  Without hesitation, she took what was rightfully ours.

We found that space first.  We had our blinker on.  We were following the rules of the road.

As we waited for her to get out of her car, our own girls' rapid-fire questions began. 

"What just happened?  Why did she do that?"  Etc.  Etc.  Etc.

After what seemed like an eternity, our challenger finally emerged from her car. 

Leaning out his window, my husband informed her, "Excuse me, but we were waiting for that spot.  Did you not see us sitting here with our blinker on?"

Her unapologetic and curt reply: "Nope.  Guess I didn't."

And with that, she smugly turned around and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Miffed, my husband started to drive off until I said, "Stop the car.  I'm getting out.  Right here."

I'm not exactly sure what I was going to do when I crossed in front of our car and headed in her direction.  I'm not exactly sure what I thought I was going to say when I caught up with her, but I knew a confrontation was in order.

After all, as a thirty-eight year old Mama and educator, I had an obligation to teach Miss Thang a lesson in parking lot etiquette, something she apparently had yet to learn.

Determined to give her the "what for and the why not", I followed her along the sidewalk.  She turned to look over her shoulder a couple of times and then dodged into one of the retail stores in the strip mall. 

Should I follow her in?  If so, what do I say?  Or...do I turn around and back off?

With my hand nearly on the door handle of the store she just entered, I found myself faced with those two options.

Reluctantly, I chose to stop.  I turned around and walked into another store to cool off. 

As I stepped inside, I could feel the heat radiating through me.  What was I about to do?  Stalk a young girl?  Who was I about to become?  The crazed shopper who could've easily been filmed on a smart phone and turned into the latest You Tube holiday sensation?  Seriously?

As I regained clarity, I heard One Voice in my mind, "Why are you so offended? Bless those who persecute. Bless and do not curse." (see Romans 12:14)

They were the exact same words and life lessons my girls and I had been discussing the past month during our Bible and prayer time.  Bless.  Pray.  Turn the other cheek.  Don't be so easily offended.

I'll be honest.  In no way did I feel like blessing this young lady.  Not. At. All. 

No, because of this injustice, I'm ashamed to admit I felt like blessing her out instead.

But thankfully my Father intervened.  And in that moment, He renewed my mind. My spirit became willing even though my flesh was still struggling.

What story did I want to convey to my own girls when I returned to the car?  Did I want them to see a Mama who huffs and puffs and chooses to retaliate at the first sign of offense?  No.  I did not.

Technically, I know this girl didn't break a law.  But she did break the southern law of kindness while driving in a parking lot.  How should I respond?  As a child of God, I'm called to open my mouth and speak with wisdom.  On my tongue should be the law of kindness, not revenge (see Proverbs 31:26).

Looking back, I am so grateful for God's gentle whisper to get my attention.  I am so glad He stopped me from stumbling and kept me from further harm--to myself, to the young girl and to my witness with my own daughters and the rest of the Christmas shoppers. 

I am glad my husband and I were the ones she wronged.  If it had been anyone else on any other day, she may have left her shopping venture with four flat tires or a nice, long key mark on the side of her car.  :)

"Great peace have they who love your law;

nothing shall offend them or make them stumble."

Psalm 119:165 (Amplified)

How do you handle this world of offenses? Are you easily offended at the slightest injustice?  If so, let's pray to choose humility over pride. Kindness over woundedness.  Mercy over offense. 

By the power of the Holy Spirit, let's live unoffendable lives.

"Lord, grant me that new creation heart that can walk as Jesus walked, through a world of offenses without stumbling.  I want to see everything as an opportunity to pray, everything as an opportunity to become Christlike.  Lord, help me interpret offenses as opportunities that lead to transformations.  Grant me, Lord Jesus, the pulse and beat of Your unoffendable heart. Amen." ~ Pastor, Francis Frangipane

Time Enough

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Every day I hear it.  My clock ticking. 

Literally.

Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

It's the repetitive sound coming from the clock hanging in our bonus room/school room.  I wanted a simple, inexpensive, analog clock with real numbers, one in which my girls could use to tell time.

What I didn't account for was how obnoxiously loud this particular clock would sound as it records each second passing by.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

This clock is good.  It helps me know how much time I have to do something.  It helps me see how much time I have left before I need to be somewhere.

But with every passing tick, I'm reminded of time gone.  No longer the future.  No longer the present.  Now the past.

"Time may be measured in minutes,

but life is measured in moments." ~ Mark Batterson

Opportunities.  Moments.  Time.  These three words have become cemented in my mind the past few weeks.

There are countless God-given opportunities in front of me every day.  There are opportunities to help.  There are opportunities to give.  There are opportunities to bless. 

There are moments to remember.  There are moments to relinquish.  There are moments that define the future.  There are moments that conjure up the past.  There are moments to celebrate.  There are moments to mourn. 

And time.  The older I get, the less I seem to have of it.  Or so it seems.  Each day pushes forward at warp speed and I cannot seem to trap it or hold on to it, or multiply it to save my life.

But one thing we all have in common is the same 24 hours, in the same day, of the same week.  We all have access to the same amount of time.  And most of the time, we all wish we had w-a-a-ay more of it.  I would be a millionaire if I had a dime every time I thought, "Man...if I just had ten more minutes..."

“All we have to decide is

what to do with the time that is given us.” ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

Since time continues to tick on, I have to choose what to do with my time.  How will I use what has so graciously been given to me? 

That's the question I'm facing right now.  What will I do with my time?  How will I choose to spend each minute that ticks by?  Not craving more of it, but making the most of it.

“Be careful, then, how you live--not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity because the days are evil.” 

Ephesians 5:15-16

Ten years ago when I taught in the public school system, I was evaluated once a year by my principal.  One of the areas in the state-mandated observation was referred to as, "time on task."  How did I, the teacher, spend the 7-8 hours engaging my students each day?  Did I value their time, stay on task, maximize the time to its greatest potential? 

And I feel like that's where I still am.  Wondering if I'm taking full advantage of the time given to me.  Weighing the moments or wasting them.

"My times are in your hands..." Psalm 31:15

Not enslaved to the ticking of the clock, I want to live my one life well, being present and enjoying His presence.  Often sitting instead of stirring.  Being instead of becoming.

I never liked the phrase, "I don't have time."  Hearing myself (or someone else) say it rubs me the wrong way.  I always think, "Sure you do.  You are just doing other things with your time."  Sometimes that's okay.  Sometimes it's not.

Time will continue to tick away.  No doubt. 

What are the everyday opportunities to experience? What are the extraordinary moments ahead?

At the end of the day, my heart agrees with author, Ann Voskamp, when she said, "I just want enough time...I just want time to do my one life well."

 

“I don’t really want more time; I just want enough time. Time to breathe deep & time to see real & time to laugh long, time to give You glory & rest deep & sing joy…

I just want time to do my one life well."

One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp

And you?  Do you hear the sound of your clock ticking as well?  Do you find yourself yearning for more time?  Or time enough?  Time enough to live your one life well? 

Lord, help us all to seize opportunities, magnify moments, and treasure the time.  For You and Your glory.  Amen.

Questions, Some Answers, & No Answers

 

"How's the adoption going?" 

"What's the latest?"

"Any idea on how much longer?"

"Do you know who she is yet?"

In light of the curious and justified questions asked of us over the past few weeks, an update post is probably l-o-n-g overdue. 

(By the way, we love the opportunity to talk about our adoption journey.  It thrills us that you care enough to ask!  So, THANK you!)

With our Home Study's completion in mid-September, our agency was ready to register us with CARA (Central Adoption Resource Authority), the governing authority responsible for all adoptions in India. 

On October 1st, our family was entered into the online registry in India.  Here was my Facebook status early that morning:

"Our family REALLY needs prayer! PLEASE circle us we submit our request/info. to CARA, the governing agency dealing with all adoptions in India. According to our agency, we will be matched with an orphanage in approx. 2 weeks. Please PRAY for God's hand to move our paperwork to the exact orphanage He planned beforehand and where our daughter is currently being cared for. This is a BIG deal! Thank you for praying BIG prayers with us to a BIG God who alone can do BIG things.”

CARA matches each family with one orphanage and each orphanage matches each family with one child.  There are no books for us to peruse, no pages of children for us to decide upon.  Control is in the hands of CARA and the orphanage, not us. 

No worries though, because we know and we rest in Who ultimately has all the control!

Just this month, another huge responsibility was checked off our list of requirements to adopt.  The dossier ("doss-ee-ay") was officially completed and mailed off on November 1st. 

The dossier really put the hunter-gatherer in us to work.  Particularly Derek, who gets all the credit for spear-heading this colossal task and for maintaining the documents checklist.  He's a total rock star in my book. :)

The dossier is an extensive collection of papers containing very detailed information about us.  First it goes to our agency, then on to India.  The good news is that many of the same documents we had to gather for the Home Study were also needed for the dossier.  Each document had to be notarized, and also apostilled, which is a special governmental stamp verifying the notary stamps were authentic and legit.

The infamous apostille stamp

VERY thick stack of papers!

Anything and just about everything one could possibly want to know about us!

Bottom line: 
*We have done all that we are required to do at this time.  To date, it's been over a month since we were registered with CARA and still no word on an orphanage.  How exciting it will be to finally know what city she is in!

*We do not have any idea how much longer.  As we have learned, our agency can only estimate time frames.  And surprisingly, we are okay with that.  God's timing is absolutely perfect.  We will know what we need to know when we need to know it. 

*We do not know who our little Pearl is yet, but God does.  He is loves her. He cares for her.  He created her.  He has a plan for her.  He is preparing her to be with us.  And He is preparing us to be with her.

Thank you for asking questions; it reminds us how much you truly care!  Keep asking and we'll try to keep answering.  Well...as long as we have the answers, that is!

Sky High

Privileged to be a guest contributor at 5 Minutes for Faith again! 

 

Here's my post for the day:

“Step.  Slide.  Hang on tight.  Breathe. 

Okay.  Good.  Now, repeat. 
One more thing. 
Whatever you do… don’t look down.”

I whispered these words to myself as I stood on a wooden bridge, high in the air.  I was attached by a simple harness and pulley system, facing a fear I didn’t even know I possessed.

Going to Stone Mountain Park was my idea that hot summer day.  Standing in line for Sky Hike, the adventure ropes course, was my idea, too.  But fear was never part of the agenda. 

Following each platform pit-stop is a pair of apparatus.  Each climber must choose which path to take.  One is deemed easier.  One, a tad more challenging.  Every time, I went with the simpler path.  I was determined to take the easy way out.  Literally.

Until Billy saw me. 

 

Billy worked at the park.  His job was to help those with weak and shaky knees cross the ropes.  He came straight toward me, pointed and said, “Try this one.”

I replied, “No thanks.  I’m good.  I like this one.  It’s easier.”

His reply, “I know.  But this one is more fun and you’re almost at the end.  You should know how it feels to cross this rope before you’re done.  Don’t worry.  I’m right here.”

He extended his hand. 

I looked.  I thought.  I refused. 

I shook off his offer of help, but not his suggestion for a challenge.  I took a couple of steps onto the more difficult, one-inch tightrope, and then I froze.  I thought I could do it by myself.  I reasoned that after his pep talk, I was ready to do it by myself.  Wrong. 

Still watching me with extended hand, Billy waited.  As awkward as I felt relying on a perfect stranger for help, I reached for his hand.  Still moving slowly, I let him guide me across the remainder of the rope and onto the safety of the deck. 

I was finished with level one, but not with my lesson for the day.  Throughout the course, I saw that when faced with a decision, I yield to the easy path.  I shun the hard stuff because…well…it’s hard.  And sometimes, I refuse to accept help when I need it most. 

Since then, our little daredevil family has returned to brave Sky Hike two more times.  The last time, I courageously conquered all three levels—climbing, balancing and mastering the course, suspended 40 feet above the ground.  While exiting level three, an employee asked me, “So…how was it?” 

“It was scary, but I finished!  Do I get a sticker?  Or is there a bell I can ring?  A bugle to blow?  Something to announce to everyone that I did it?”

She laughed and said, “We should.  But I’ll shout it for you.  ‘She did it!  She finished!  Great job!’”  Triumphantly, I walked away knowing this was so much more than just a great activity at a great park.  It was also a great life-lesson.

I can choose to face the hard stuff in my life because my God is already there, just ahead of me.  He sees me panic-stricken and trembling in my soul.  He knows the moment my faith freezes and He comes. He sees me looking down at my circumstances instead of up at His face.  He waits for me to take His hand. 

And when I do, He will guide me through it to the other side, declaring, “You did it!  You finished.  Great job!”

With this news…encourage those who have weak knees.
 Say to those with fearful hearts,
“Be strong, & do not fear, for your God is coming…He is coming to save you.”

Is. 35:3-4 (NLT)

 

1000

1000.

That's appoximately how many feet deep Tallulah Falls Gorge is from top to bottom.  Considered one of the seven natural wonders of Georgia, the base reveals raging waters, spraying mists and glistening rocks.  And we had the privilege of seeing it all yesterday as we trekked our way up to the North Georgia Mountains.

Following a sharp descent of hundreds of stairs, we found ourselves at the bottom of the gorge.  In front of us was Hurricane Falls, the largest boasting waterfall in the park.  And all around us, beauty stamped with the design of its Maker.

 

Then it was time to turn around and go back up.  Time to ascend this hill to the top of the gorge.  There was more.  Much more for us to see and experience during our little field trip this fall.

 

1000. 

That's how many total steps one must be willing to climb in order to embrace the majesty of Tallulah Falls.

My girls and I were willing.  As a matter a fact, we braved each and every one of those intimidating steps.  With no whining.  No complaining.  No belly-aching.  Just a quick stop every now and then to rest on a bench as we made our way up.  And surprisingly, my five year old led us the whole way.

 

As we neared the top of the steepest and longest incline of stairs, my youngest asked,
"Which way do we go, Mommy?  To the left or the right?"

Map in hand, I stopped and showed my girls the direction in which we needed to go.  Our adventure continued as we navigated the rim trails by following the way set out before us. 

A couple of times we were tempted to veer off the path and head in other directions.  But if we had, we might not have made it to our destination--where we really needed to go.  We might have missed out on the awe-inspiring views surrounding us.

"Stop at the crossroads and look around; ask for the ancient paths.

Where is the good way?

Then walk in it and find a resting place for yourselves."

Jeremiah 6:16 (CEB)

 

 

From the highest of heights and the varying overlook points, we witnessed the wonder of five different cascading waterfalls.  They were powerful.  And constant.  And unpredictable.

1000.

 

That's the minimum number of things I am grateful for in my life right now and from this trip to Tallulah Falls. 

 

We came.  We saw.  We climbed.

 

And going from one extreme to the next in the midst of the gorge, prompted this response:



 

 

Worship. 

 

"Where can I go from your Spirit? 

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there."

Ps. 139:7-8 (NIV)

 

1000.



That's the number of extraordinary ways our Creator shows Himself, His love, His Word, and His presence in the midst of our ordinary days.  Let's keep our eyes open and be amazed.

 

Adoption's Heartbeat

Last weekend Derek and I went to the national "Together for Adoption" Conference in Atlanta. 

Between the two of us, we've attended our share of conferences in years past:  marriage, women's, men's, youth, youth leaders, education, technology, and homeschool, just to name a few.

Suffice to say, we're seasoned experts in the conference arena.  Been there.  Done that.  (And yes, we even have a few t-shirts to prove it.)

But this conference was so different.  And so timely.  And so beneficial for us.

Beforehand, we read the descriptions for each breakout session and mapped out which ones we most wanted to attend and most needed for our family.  We donned the name tags, wandered the exhibit hall and took in a deep breath--full of expectation and hope.

Each speaker, each song, each session reiterated our call to this journey of adoption.  It was confirmation upon confirmation upon confirmation.  And our thirsty souls drank it all in.

But the loudest, yet most gentle clamor, was the sound of our own adoption reverberating in our ears from start to finish. 

Have you heard it?  Have you heard how you dearly loved you are?  No?  Then read on, my friend. 

For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. 

So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves.

Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. 

Now we call him, “Abba, Father."

For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children.  Rom. 8:14-16 (NLT)

Adoption is the heartbeat of the gospel.  It's the highest privilege--all because of our close relationship with the Father as His child, because of the sacrifice of His Son.  Jesus is the natural, eternal son, but we are adopted into His family through grace. 

Adoption is the message from a loving Father, saying, "Come home with me."

All of us, spiritually speaking, were born outside the family of God.  Apart from Him, we were isolated, rebellious, soiled and in great need.  But before the foundation of the world, God chose us.  He was busy, designing His family, preparing to become a Father.

Similarly, we are busy planning and preparing to become parents once again.  This time to an orphan, temporarily outside our family.   We have made the choice to fill out the applications and open our hearts and our home to our daughter.  We want her here, with us.

Once the judge declares the adoption is official, she becomes our honored daughter.  She has a place in our family.  She will gain a new identity, no longer being known as she once was in the past.  She will bear a new name; she will be a Fort.  And she will belong with us.

The same thing is true for us spiritually.  The moment we believe, the moment we say, "Yes" to Jesus, our family dynamics change entirely.  We have a place in the family of God, not by anything we did for ourselves, but because of what was done for us. 

We possess a new name and a new identity.  We belong.  And nothing we can do will ever change that.  Because family is forever.

Thank You, Abba Father, for the Spirit of adoption who confirms who we are: 

wanted, chosen, lavishly loved, adopted sons and daughters. 

Thank You for leaving Your home to enter into the spiritual orphanages

of this world with one goal in mind: bringing us home with You.

Adoption.  Most beautiful display of the gospel.  Ever.

A New Mercy Morning

Whew.  I am SO glad it's a new day.  Especially after yesterday.

Too much fussing.  Too much whining.  Too many harsh words. 

Not enough gentleness.  Not enough patience.  Not enough mercy.

And surprisingly, this has little to do with the girls.

During my (most-necessary) time of prayer this morning, I repeated these promises in Lamentations 3:22-23.

Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,
Because His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning...

Thank. You. God.

I told the Lord how much I appreciated and needed His new mercies today because I felt consumed.  With my behavior and with guilt. 

I knew the "law of kindness" rarely graced my tongue yesterday. 
I knew that I'd gone all "loco" when an entire container of vanilla yogurt was spilled on the carpet. 
I knew I'd been less than patient when we were still doing school at five o'clock in the afternoon.  Yes. Really.

In the midst of expressing my desperate need for His new mercies today, I couldn't help but think of my daughters' desperate need for my new mercies today, as well. 

Just as I am completely and totally dependent on second chance  moments, they are too.  From Him and from their mama.

Because of the Lord's great love, I can extend a second, third, or even a hundredth chance to myself and most especially, to my little ones.  And I will.  Starting now.  This morning.

I can grace as I've been graced.

Another new mercy morning.  Thank you, Lord.

(And since You know I'm going to need another one tomorrow, I will go ahead and thank You for that one, too.  And for the next one, and the next and the next...)

Maybe...the Best Has Yet to be Written

Same routine.  Every school morning.  Here at home.

Shortly after Bible and calendar, we jump right into the discipline of handwriting practice. 

While my third grader works diligently, perfecting her letters in cursive, my kindergartner works simultaneously, mastering the strokes of her manuscript alphabet.  All the while, we play the same game, in the same way--everyday.

We affectionately call it the, "find and circle your very best letter, which you just wrote on your paper" game.  Pretty original, right?

My youngest writes her letters.  She picks her favorite(s).  Then, I pick mine.

Object of the game--see if we agree on the same letter. 

Of course we all know the real game is just Mommy's slightly sneaky way of making sure darling daughter takes her time and takes pride in doing her best work.  And for the most part, Mommy's plan works accordingly.

Until the other day.

Here's a bit of the conversation which took place between my youngest pupil and me:

Me:  "Okay.  Let's see...which one will be your BEST letter today?  Hmm...I am SO excited.  I CANNOT wait to see which one it will be!"

Her:  (writes exactly one letter after example letter) "This is it.  This is the best one."

Me:  "Uh, yes, that one is really fantastic, but look.  You still have some more spaces so...you can write some more."

Her:  "I don't want to.  I already wrote the best one."

Me:  "I really think you should keep going.  Who knows?  Maybe the best has yet to be written."

With that, my budding writer picks up her pencil and moves it across the page.  When all is said and done, she's written a beautiful letter on every dot, on every line. (whew!)

Setting her pencil down, we both agree her very best letter was the one she'd written toward the end, after more time, more practice and more repetition.

She's surprised at herself and I'm surprised at the words I just spoke to her (especially after my last blog post).

Maybe my best has yet to be written, too. 

Why do I so often think my best times, best efforts, best moments are right now, or worse, that they've already occurred?

Why is it, particularly lately, that I have flashes when I am less than excited about the future coming to pass?

Why do I concern myself with the next couple of years when our family grows through adoption or the next ten years when I am the mother to three teenage girls or the next fifteen-twenty years when my home is just one big, very quiet, very empty nest?

If the scripture tells me that "all the days ordained for me were written in His book before even one of them came to be" (Psalm 139:16)...

And if the scripture tells me that "no eye has seen, no ear as heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him" (1 Corinthians 2:9)...

Then maybe I should be celebrating and laughing at the days to come (Proverbs 31:25) instead of exerting time, energy, and brain cells feeling hesitant and insecure.

Maybe, just maybe...my best, my absolute best, has yet to be written. 

How about you?  Do you believe your best has yet to come? 

I Have a Feeling

The last few weeks, I've had a strange feeling in my gut.  I might compare it to a word of caution, a "heads-up", or even a warning to heed.

In my mind, I'm at the beach on a gorgeous, green-flag day.   Basking in the sunshine, I kick off my flops and begin to stroll along the shore.  I cannot help but smile as I wade farther into the salty water.  Like a dry sponge, I soak in the calm surrounding me.

But suddenly, in the midst of all that is beautiful and serene, I sense a quiet rumble, an unfamiliar stirring.  The once-tranquil waters have begun to churn, becoming choppy and suddenly precarious. And just over the horizon, I can see a storm gaining momentum.

I pray I'm wrong.  But still, I have a feeling.

You see, we've spent the past month completing the final responsibilities of the Home Study phase of our adoption journey, specifically the education phase.  Reading, reading, and even MORE reading.  Books, blogs, more books, more blogs, and the mandated, 12-hour, on-line Hague Convention training have nearly consumed me.

I love to read and I love to learn.  I take advantage of opportunities to grow in my knowledge on any given subject, but the last couple of weeks takes the cake.

I've had to read about orphanages, institutionalized children, developmental delays, soothing behaviors, sensory processing disorder, reactive attachment disorder, bonding, neglect, abuse, fetal alcohol syndrome, malnutrition, cognitive and emotional concerns, and post-adoption depression syndrome, just to name a few.

With knowledge comes understanding and with understanding comes empathy.  I get this. Indefinitely, this information will help prepare me to parent our little girl.  But this knowledge also ties up my mind and stomach in knots.  Bottom line: I'm afraid and I'm anxious.

And those are two things I despise:  fear and worry.

They also just happen to be two things I'm commanded by my Lord not to do.  Remember these often-repeated words throughout scripture?

"Do not fear."  
"Do not worry."  

Yeah. I do, too.

And yet...I find myself consumed with both.

I worry about my daughter's physical health.
I worry that she is not being fed nourishing foods or protected from diseases.
I worry about her mental state.
I worry about her lying in a crib for hours and hours, neglected and understimulated.
I worry about her emotional needs not being met.
I worry that she is not being held enough or kissed enough or doted over enough.

I'm afraid she won't attach or bond to us quickly when she comes home.
I'm afraid of the "honeymoon" stage wearing off too quickly and the hard reality setting in.
I'm afraid of sleep-deprivation...again.
I'm afraid I won't be able to meet her needs, especially when she is grieving the loss of all she's ever known.
I'm afraid of being isolated during the "cocooning" phase.
I'm afraid our family and friends won't understand.
I'm afraid I won't have the strength, the patience, the perseverance, and most of all, the love I need to be my little girl's mother.
I'm afraid one day my husband and I will look at each other and say, "What the h--- were we thinking?"

And deep down, I am afraid that even though we will take our child out of the institution, it will be a struggle to take the institution out of our child.

I'm not trying to be negative.  Really I'm not.  Just honest.  It's hard, excruciatingly hard, to read what we've read and not let it affect you.

I've had trouble resting the past couple of weeks.  I've gone to bed anxious and have had less-than-pleasant dreams about not being prepared and ready.

Our social worker says to "expect the worst and pray for the best."

We are.

And with every prayer uttered on our Indian daughter's behalf, we squeak one out for us.
We are casting our cares, clinging to the only One capable of silencing the winds and waves raging within us.
We rest and rely on the One who loves our daughter(s) immeasurably more than we could ever imagine loving them.

Storm or no storm on the horizon, we will not drown.  In contrast, we will rest securely in the promise of His presence and His provision, for our daughter and for us.

The God who called us WILL equip us.  No doubt.  I have a feeling.

Would you consider praying for us, too?