God's ways are not always cut and dried. So often, I find the way God moves in the world and, individually, in my life.......mysterious. And baffling...yet all the while so.very.good. I am moved when He moves.
And today, I'm moved.
Today, I learned that our sweet Hannah, has found her forever home. But that home is not ours.
I want to shout a million questions into the sky and in my impulse I want God to shout a million answers back at me!
Why Hannah?
Why China?
Why now?
Why did you have me fall in love with this girl who could never be mine?
Does her adoptive family know You, Lord?
Will I ever get to hold her in heaven?
But just before my sky-tirade begins, the Lord does what He does best. He loves. Loves. Loves.
Loves. Me.
I feel Him wrap his big strong carpenter's arms around me while I sob out these words. I feel him take his thumb and whisk away the tears that blur my computer screen. And, no, I can't really feel arms...because Jesus doesn't have skin on in my living room...does He. But what I feel is no less real.
I hear Him say into the broken places in my heart, "Be still. And KNOW that I am God."
And that is all I can muster tonight my sweet sweet Lord. I will rest and know that you are God. That your plan is good and perfect and perfectly good. I will trust you even as my heart rends. I will lean on your strength because I am so tired. And so sad.
And I will choose to see the good in your work in us because of Hannah. Because seeing the good in this world is a choice. I choose life. I choose love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness and self control. You brought her to us for a reason, Lord. You used our time praying for this sweet little girl to bring our marriage closer, to raise our children's awareness of the plight of the orphan and to open all of our hearts to another child finding his or her way into our family. I praise You! Thank you for breaking our hearts for Hannah...Thank you for shaking off our apathy. Thank you for the process of loving her. We thank you, Father. You are good. Above all things. YOU. ARE. GOOD.
Hannah, praise God for your new family! We will forever hold you in our hearts until we can hold you in heaven.
We love you.
We've never adopted before. We don't know what the heck we're doing...all we know is: Hannah has captured our hearts. We won't stop until the final door closes on her, or, Heaven willing, we bring her home...
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
For Love
I've turned into an enormous green rage monster.
But don't worry. It's totally normal (or something). If you're going off of an SSRI.
Holy buckets, Batman, this week has been hard.
First off, everyone in our house, including my sweet husband, has been sick this week. Me, both kids, and Landon (the sweetie-pie I get to watch three mornings a week)
This is like, the longest cold bug--EVER. But this one took mom out for the count. On day two of this beast, Peter took me to the clinic where we were blessed to find out I have a double ear infection and a sinus infection. So 10 days of amoxicillin for me. The kids got little more than a runny nose, thank goodness, but literally for the first few days all I wanted to do was sleep. So I did. Peter took a day off work so that he could stay home with our babies whilst I slept the hours away in a Nyquil-induced stupor. Isn't he the best?!? I mean, really! He took time off of work to watch our kids
so that I could
just.
be.
sick.
And not have to be super-mom and sick at the same time.
I've come to appreciate my husband more and more with each passing year we've been married. While so many other husbands would and do make up all kinds of (REALLY LEGIT) reasons not to stay home when their spouse is sick....my hubby and a least one other (hats off to YOU, Ryan! You rock so hard for how you took care of your lady this week!) doesn't. They see a need. They are capable of meeting that need. So they meet it. Simple as that. Husbands...you could learn a thing or two from my man! Suck it up and take care of your people. Even if you work at church! God first. Family second. Ministry....job...etc...third. Okay, off the soap box. I promise this post actually has to do with Hannah...even if it takes me down a few bleary-eyed and stumbling rabbit trails first.
Secondly, the week before I got sick I finished weaning off of my anti-depressant (prescribed after I had my little man for post partum depression). I figured this would be pretty similar to all the other times I've weaned off of anti-depressants. Yes, there have been several. But this particular anti-depressant was in a family of meds I'd never taken before. A seratonin re-uptake inhibitor. Apparently, this medication is made by the Devil himself.
Here are the side effects one might experience when one comes off of an SSRI:
Insomnia
Extreme fatigue
Severe stomach pains and cramping
Headaches (read, your head feels like it's going to explode)
Dizziness
Vertigo
Nausea
Vomiting
Numbness in fingers and arms
Blurred vision
Cognitive impairment (you get real stupid and drooley)
and Episodic rage (see also, the enormous green rage monster thing)
Okay, so before I realized these things that were happening to me were caused by going off of my medication, I thought I was dying! For real. I thought this was it. Jesus was taking me home via a brain aneurysm or something! It was AWFUL! Plus being sick on top of it!
I'm so glad I had enough brain cells at my disposal to Google "Going off an SSRI". It calmed my panic over brain aneurysm. Like, whew! I'm not dying...I'm just going threw withdrawals I do NOT envy drug addicts when they go off their drugs and try to get clean...because more than once I thought, "okay, I cannot handle this ...I'm going to go back on it. This is crazy!"
And I very well may have. If I hadn't had something so bright and promising waiting for me at the end of my withdrawal tunnel (or potentially waiting for me.) See, China doesn't allow anyone who has taken anti-depressants two years prior to their trying to adopt to adopt from their country. I'm off of it now... because I don't want anything as silly as me being on a medication for postpartum depression when I'm not even postpartum any more, be the reason we can't bring Hannah home. I had talked to my nurse practitioner last fall about going off of it then because why stay on something when you don't need it, right? But at her behest, I stayed on it until spring. Man! I wish I would have told her no...I wish I'd have gone off of it then! Our chances of being able to adopt Hannah would be so much better now if I hadn't just rolled over and stayed on the meds an extra half a year. But I'm off them now. By the time Peter turns 29.5 next year in February, I will have been off of the anti-depressant for nearly a year. China requires two years "clean" but I've heard of families getting wavers for this! If Hannah is mean to be ours, please, please, Lord...let there be a waiver in our future!
The moral of the story is this: Fight like crazy for the one you love. Do whatever it takes. Take the vertigo, nausea, numbness and rage and remember, Jesus went through all that and horrors above and beyond what anyone can imagine for us...HIS beloved. Hannah, you are our beloved...and I would go through the medication withdrawals every month for you. You're worth my discomfort. Your life is worth it.
Oh the things we do for love
But don't worry. It's totally normal (or something). If you're going off of an SSRI.
Holy buckets, Batman, this week has been hard.
First off, everyone in our house, including my sweet husband, has been sick this week. Me, both kids, and Landon (the sweetie-pie I get to watch three mornings a week)
This is like, the longest cold bug--EVER. But this one took mom out for the count. On day two of this beast, Peter took me to the clinic where we were blessed to find out I have a double ear infection and a sinus infection. So 10 days of amoxicillin for me. The kids got little more than a runny nose, thank goodness, but literally for the first few days all I wanted to do was sleep. So I did. Peter took a day off work so that he could stay home with our babies whilst I slept the hours away in a Nyquil-induced stupor. Isn't he the best?!? I mean, really! He took time off of work to watch our kids
so that I could
just.
be.
sick.
And not have to be super-mom and sick at the same time.
I've come to appreciate my husband more and more with each passing year we've been married. While so many other husbands would and do make up all kinds of (REALLY LEGIT) reasons not to stay home when their spouse is sick....my hubby and a least one other (hats off to YOU, Ryan! You rock so hard for how you took care of your lady this week!) doesn't. They see a need. They are capable of meeting that need. So they meet it. Simple as that. Husbands...you could learn a thing or two from my man! Suck it up and take care of your people. Even if you work at church! God first. Family second. Ministry....job...etc...third. Okay, off the soap box. I promise this post actually has to do with Hannah...even if it takes me down a few bleary-eyed and stumbling rabbit trails first.
Secondly, the week before I got sick I finished weaning off of my anti-depressant (prescribed after I had my little man for post partum depression). I figured this would be pretty similar to all the other times I've weaned off of anti-depressants. Yes, there have been several. But this particular anti-depressant was in a family of meds I'd never taken before. A seratonin re-uptake inhibitor. Apparently, this medication is made by the Devil himself.
Here are the side effects one might experience when one comes off of an SSRI:
Insomnia
Extreme fatigue
Severe stomach pains and cramping
Headaches (read, your head feels like it's going to explode)
Dizziness
Vertigo
Nausea
Vomiting
Numbness in fingers and arms
Blurred vision
Cognitive impairment (you get real stupid and drooley)
and Episodic rage (see also, the enormous green rage monster thing)
Okay, so before I realized these things that were happening to me were caused by going off of my medication, I thought I was dying! For real. I thought this was it. Jesus was taking me home via a brain aneurysm or something! It was AWFUL! Plus being sick on top of it!
I'm so glad I had enough brain cells at my disposal to Google "Going off an SSRI". It calmed my panic over brain aneurysm. Like, whew! I'm not dying...I'm just going threw withdrawals I do NOT envy drug addicts when they go off their drugs and try to get clean...because more than once I thought, "okay, I cannot handle this ...I'm going to go back on it. This is crazy!"
And I very well may have. If I hadn't had something so bright and promising waiting for me at the end of my withdrawal tunnel (or potentially waiting for me.) See, China doesn't allow anyone who has taken anti-depressants two years prior to their trying to adopt to adopt from their country. I'm off of it now... because I don't want anything as silly as me being on a medication for postpartum depression when I'm not even postpartum any more, be the reason we can't bring Hannah home. I had talked to my nurse practitioner last fall about going off of it then because why stay on something when you don't need it, right? But at her behest, I stayed on it until spring. Man! I wish I would have told her no...I wish I'd have gone off of it then! Our chances of being able to adopt Hannah would be so much better now if I hadn't just rolled over and stayed on the meds an extra half a year. But I'm off them now. By the time Peter turns 29.5 next year in February, I will have been off of the anti-depressant for nearly a year. China requires two years "clean" but I've heard of families getting wavers for this! If Hannah is mean to be ours, please, please, Lord...let there be a waiver in our future!
The moral of the story is this: Fight like crazy for the one you love. Do whatever it takes. Take the vertigo, nausea, numbness and rage and remember, Jesus went through all that and horrors above and beyond what anyone can imagine for us...HIS beloved. Hannah, you are our beloved...and I would go through the medication withdrawals every month for you. You're worth my discomfort. Your life is worth it.
Oh the things we do for love
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Happy Anniversary
Five years. Five years I've been waking up next to the most incredible man on planet earth. Really. Sorry, ladies, it's true. And I'm willing to go bare knuckles over it.
Our anniversary was two days ago, and it was one of my most favorite days of all time...
For some obvious reasons.
And for some not so obvious reasons.
Peter is not much of a "surprise guy". And by that, I don't mean he's neglectful or doesn't want to surprise me. He just feels inept at it, and psyches himself out about not coming up with a "good" surprise, thereby thwarting the surprise before it ever blossoms into fruition. Which is really fine. Because I'm not much of a surprise girl. Because, truthfully, I'm just trying to keep the lamps lit and anything above and beyond three squares a day and raising my spider monkeys is just....stressful. Also, I'm pretty low maintenance.
And I forget important dates.
I mean, like, ALL important dates. Including my own birthday. Which is awesome for Peter because he's low maintenance too and man it would just be wretched to have to keep topping every birthday and Valentine's day and Anniversary with something even more elaborate and yet completely meaningless each year. I have a friend that get's totally stressed out over Valentines day. It was two days past Valentines day and I was in Walmart with my kiddos and upon seeing racks of wilting flower bouquets and clearance shelves of over-sized stuffed animals with velvet hearts in their hands...I realized...."OH RIGHT! Valentine's day!"
So, I went home, wished Peter a happy Valentine's day.
He said, "Oh, when was that?"
I said, "I think it was a couple of days ago".
Upon which we looked at each other with this knowing grin that says, "Man, I love being married to you and how I don't have to jump through Hallmark's hoops to show you that a couple of times a year."
And then we giggled and moved on and loved each other all the more for our obliviousness to the things that are "supposed" to make marriages better. Aahheerrrrm.
But on this, our fifth wedding anniversary, my man did something spectacular! He told me he had a surprise planned for us and I thought...saweeet! Peter planned a surprise!!! The morning of our anniversary, Peter and the kids and I got up like we do every morning and schlupped out the kitchen for our morning bowls of cereal. But instead of my usual Cheerios, there were earings in my bowl! Awww. So I said, "what a wonderful surprise!!! Thank you, honey!"
"You're welcome", he said, "But that's not the surprise."
Dang! There's more??
So, after breakfast I go to the medicine cabinet to put on my contacts, and there, resting along side my saline solution bottle is a brand new copy of Les Miserables! MY absolutely favorite movie of all time (only slightly below the Lord of the Rings trilogy...but that's a trilogy...and a phenomenon...and a blessing from the Lord of Hosts-amen. So, Lord of the Rings is off on another planet of awesomeness....okay, just had to clarify.) So, I run out of the bathroom jumping up and down with my copy of Les Mis like a teenager who has just been handed the keys to her parents minivan after she passes her driver's test. Is THIS the surpise?
"No. But I'm glad you're excited for Les Mis!"
Hmmmmm...now I'm getting a little perplexed here. Two surprises, and neither of the m are THEE surprise. But because I'm not a person who likes to have things ruined for me, I decided not to even try to figure out what the surprise was and just let the day unfold.
Five o'clock rolled around, and Nana came over to watch our kiddos. Peter and I said our goodbyes and hopped into the car. We drove outside of Bismarck, headed west, then outside of Mandan, then we drove past the Beulah exit where we normally turn north to go and visit my parents. As we cruised past the Beulah exit, I knew where we were headed. Peter looked over at me and said, "Can you guess where we are going?"
"The Wagon Wheel?" I asked.
"The Wagon Wheel", said Peter, "and a movie!"
Peter took me to the Wagon Wheel....because above all things, Peter knows his wife. He knows me deep down in the places that I don't even like. He knows the difference between trying to impress me, and trying to love me. He knows the best way to reach into my soul is not to spend a lot of money or time on fancy stuff or gourmet food. He knows his wife...and I try every day to make sure I know him in that same way..a way that's not on the surface with lots of other relationships...but in a way that's 7 layers deep.
The Wagon Wheel is this tiny little greasy spoon in a tiny little town called Hebron, North Dakota. Every summer from my birth until we moved to North Dakota at age 13 was spent at my grandma's house in Hebron. We would make the 8 million mile trip from Denver to Hebron every year. And to a kid who grew up in the city where you couldn't walk down the streets of my neighborhood without fear of being kidnapped or being the hapless victim of a driveby, Hebron was like an oasis of carefree wonder. My cousin John and I would ride our bikes from one end of the town to the other, buying candy from the local grocery, swimming in the community pool all.day.long., and shooting off fireworks in the middle of Main St. I learned how to drive in Hebron. I was 7. I couldn't reach the pedals so my dad worked those, and I sat proudly on his lap, grasping that huge steering wheel like I thought it might come flying off of the dash if I didn't hold it on there with my wirey-armed death-grip. Hebron. Still one of my favorite places on earth.
I won't go into all the mushy details of our date, but I will tell you it involved chocolate malts, curly fries, and the best grilled cheese sandwiches ever. It involved talking to an older gentleman with failing health from dozens of heart attacks. Lambert has been a staple at the Wagon Wheel since I was a kid. He sits in the same seat at the same table every day. He's changed now...sick and weary and battling a body that has long forgotten the vitality of the much younger man who used to occupy the same seat. Peter and I talked with Lambert about my grandparents, and my dad and uncles until our food came. I don't know what made me want to connect with this man (who didn't know me from Adam). But I'm glad I did. I'm glad I said hi. He may not be there the next time I visit. I'm glad I got to reminisce with this piece of my past.
After dinner we drove around Hebron, me yakking about this building or that building or what we did here or there. Then we stopped at the school and played on the playground. Like the big doofy kids we are. We twirled on the merry-go-rounds. And then I thought I'd puke so we stopped. Apparently 20 years does a number on your ability to spin in circles for hours on end. Ah well...se la vie.
After that it was off to the movie in a beautiful old theater from the 1930's which has been renovated and is an absolute jewel of a place (in my humble opinion).
And by the time our date was over, we were both tired and ready to jump in the car and head back to Bismarck, but we were both so overjoyed by our simple and wonderful and wonderfully simple anniversary. It was perfect...and getting more perfect by the moment, because my absolute favorite part of our anniversary came on the dark and still ride home. In that hour on the lamp-less North Dakota highways we asked each other what we thought our lives would look like in 5 more years. Peter said something so profound and yet so simple. He said
I just want to be more like Jesus. I want our whole family to be more like Him.
And that was it. That was enough. What better aspiration can any of us have? Our best life, our most fulfilled life is found in Him; is found in becoming his hands and feet; is found in loving those who "can't" be loved; in giving everything we have to those who have a need (like REALLY. EVERYTHING WE HAVE.)
And the only thing I could think to say was, "Me too." But then I added that I hoped Jesus would let us adopt by then.
And, Hannah, sweet girl, if you are ever ours, and you ever get to read this someday when you're old enough, just know, we talked about you from that moment until we were back in Bismarck. We talked about what your life will be like if no one comes for you. We talked about what your life would be like if we could call you ours. We talked about the hardships facing you even when you do find a family (with us or someone else). We talked about the joys found in a family too.
We talked about what life will be like for you with special needs, if you do, in fact, have special needs like your file eludes to. We wondered out loud if, some day, you would need to go to a group home...if some day...mommy and daddy couldn't care for you like you deserve because of necessity or old age. We even talked about what it would look like if because of your special needs you weren't able to adapt to your life in our family, if you were unable to live with us because of the damage that's been done to your sweet little body and mind in the orphanage. We've known several adoptive families who have had to place their children in group homes for the child's safety and for the family's safety. There are no guarantees, Hannah! You might not adjust to our family.....but WE LOVE YOU. NO MATTER WHAT.
If Jesus sees fit to bring you home to us, we will love you with an unending and unselfish kind of love. No matter what. Special needs? We'll love you. Perfectly normal? We'll love you. Group home? We'll love you. Radical attachment disorder? We'll love you. I pray we can love you face to face in this life. But if another family is meant to have you grace them with your presence...then know this, sweet Hannah....we will love you in Heaven. We will pray every day for you, at some point in your life, to ask Jesus to put His heart inside your chest, and yours in His. That he would be your Daddy and you would be his child, and that with Him, you would find yourself in Heaven one day, being clobbered with kisses and hugs by two complete strangers who will have been praying your whole life for you...and waiting anxiously to meet you on the day your Daddy calls you home.
I love you, Hannah.
You were the best part of our five year anniversary.
Our anniversary was two days ago, and it was one of my most favorite days of all time...
For some obvious reasons.
And for some not so obvious reasons.
Peter is not much of a "surprise guy". And by that, I don't mean he's neglectful or doesn't want to surprise me. He just feels inept at it, and psyches himself out about not coming up with a "good" surprise, thereby thwarting the surprise before it ever blossoms into fruition. Which is really fine. Because I'm not much of a surprise girl. Because, truthfully, I'm just trying to keep the lamps lit and anything above and beyond three squares a day and raising my spider monkeys is just....stressful. Also, I'm pretty low maintenance.
And I forget important dates.
I mean, like, ALL important dates. Including my own birthday. Which is awesome for Peter because he's low maintenance too and man it would just be wretched to have to keep topping every birthday and Valentine's day and Anniversary with something even more elaborate and yet completely meaningless each year. I have a friend that get's totally stressed out over Valentines day. It was two days past Valentines day and I was in Walmart with my kiddos and upon seeing racks of wilting flower bouquets and clearance shelves of over-sized stuffed animals with velvet hearts in their hands...I realized...."OH RIGHT! Valentine's day!"
So, I went home, wished Peter a happy Valentine's day.
He said, "Oh, when was that?"
I said, "I think it was a couple of days ago".
Upon which we looked at each other with this knowing grin that says, "Man, I love being married to you and how I don't have to jump through Hallmark's hoops to show you that a couple of times a year."
And then we giggled and moved on and loved each other all the more for our obliviousness to the things that are "supposed" to make marriages better. Aahheerrrrm.
But on this, our fifth wedding anniversary, my man did something spectacular! He told me he had a surprise planned for us and I thought...saweeet! Peter planned a surprise!!! The morning of our anniversary, Peter and the kids and I got up like we do every morning and schlupped out the kitchen for our morning bowls of cereal. But instead of my usual Cheerios, there were earings in my bowl! Awww. So I said, "what a wonderful surprise!!! Thank you, honey!"
"You're welcome", he said, "But that's not the surprise."
Dang! There's more??
So, after breakfast I go to the medicine cabinet to put on my contacts, and there, resting along side my saline solution bottle is a brand new copy of Les Miserables! MY absolutely favorite movie of all time (only slightly below the Lord of the Rings trilogy...but that's a trilogy...and a phenomenon...and a blessing from the Lord of Hosts-amen. So, Lord of the Rings is off on another planet of awesomeness....okay, just had to clarify.) So, I run out of the bathroom jumping up and down with my copy of Les Mis like a teenager who has just been handed the keys to her parents minivan after she passes her driver's test. Is THIS the surpise?
"No. But I'm glad you're excited for Les Mis!"
Hmmmmm...now I'm getting a little perplexed here. Two surprises, and neither of the m are THEE surprise. But because I'm not a person who likes to have things ruined for me, I decided not to even try to figure out what the surprise was and just let the day unfold.
Five o'clock rolled around, and Nana came over to watch our kiddos. Peter and I said our goodbyes and hopped into the car. We drove outside of Bismarck, headed west, then outside of Mandan, then we drove past the Beulah exit where we normally turn north to go and visit my parents. As we cruised past the Beulah exit, I knew where we were headed. Peter looked over at me and said, "Can you guess where we are going?"
"The Wagon Wheel?" I asked.
"The Wagon Wheel", said Peter, "and a movie!"
Peter took me to the Wagon Wheel....because above all things, Peter knows his wife. He knows me deep down in the places that I don't even like. He knows the difference between trying to impress me, and trying to love me. He knows the best way to reach into my soul is not to spend a lot of money or time on fancy stuff or gourmet food. He knows his wife...and I try every day to make sure I know him in that same way..a way that's not on the surface with lots of other relationships...but in a way that's 7 layers deep.
The Wagon Wheel is this tiny little greasy spoon in a tiny little town called Hebron, North Dakota. Every summer from my birth until we moved to North Dakota at age 13 was spent at my grandma's house in Hebron. We would make the 8 million mile trip from Denver to Hebron every year. And to a kid who grew up in the city where you couldn't walk down the streets of my neighborhood without fear of being kidnapped or being the hapless victim of a driveby, Hebron was like an oasis of carefree wonder. My cousin John and I would ride our bikes from one end of the town to the other, buying candy from the local grocery, swimming in the community pool all.day.long., and shooting off fireworks in the middle of Main St. I learned how to drive in Hebron. I was 7. I couldn't reach the pedals so my dad worked those, and I sat proudly on his lap, grasping that huge steering wheel like I thought it might come flying off of the dash if I didn't hold it on there with my wirey-armed death-grip. Hebron. Still one of my favorite places on earth.
I won't go into all the mushy details of our date, but I will tell you it involved chocolate malts, curly fries, and the best grilled cheese sandwiches ever. It involved talking to an older gentleman with failing health from dozens of heart attacks. Lambert has been a staple at the Wagon Wheel since I was a kid. He sits in the same seat at the same table every day. He's changed now...sick and weary and battling a body that has long forgotten the vitality of the much younger man who used to occupy the same seat. Peter and I talked with Lambert about my grandparents, and my dad and uncles until our food came. I don't know what made me want to connect with this man (who didn't know me from Adam). But I'm glad I did. I'm glad I said hi. He may not be there the next time I visit. I'm glad I got to reminisce with this piece of my past.
After dinner we drove around Hebron, me yakking about this building or that building or what we did here or there. Then we stopped at the school and played on the playground. Like the big doofy kids we are. We twirled on the merry-go-rounds. And then I thought I'd puke so we stopped. Apparently 20 years does a number on your ability to spin in circles for hours on end. Ah well...se la vie.
After that it was off to the movie in a beautiful old theater from the 1930's which has been renovated and is an absolute jewel of a place (in my humble opinion).
And by the time our date was over, we were both tired and ready to jump in the car and head back to Bismarck, but we were both so overjoyed by our simple and wonderful and wonderfully simple anniversary. It was perfect...and getting more perfect by the moment, because my absolute favorite part of our anniversary came on the dark and still ride home. In that hour on the lamp-less North Dakota highways we asked each other what we thought our lives would look like in 5 more years. Peter said something so profound and yet so simple. He said
I just want to be more like Jesus. I want our whole family to be more like Him.
And that was it. That was enough. What better aspiration can any of us have? Our best life, our most fulfilled life is found in Him; is found in becoming his hands and feet; is found in loving those who "can't" be loved; in giving everything we have to those who have a need (like REALLY. EVERYTHING WE HAVE.)
And the only thing I could think to say was, "Me too." But then I added that I hoped Jesus would let us adopt by then.
And, Hannah, sweet girl, if you are ever ours, and you ever get to read this someday when you're old enough, just know, we talked about you from that moment until we were back in Bismarck. We talked about what your life will be like if no one comes for you. We talked about what your life would be like if we could call you ours. We talked about the hardships facing you even when you do find a family (with us or someone else). We talked about the joys found in a family too.
We talked about what life will be like for you with special needs, if you do, in fact, have special needs like your file eludes to. We wondered out loud if, some day, you would need to go to a group home...if some day...mommy and daddy couldn't care for you like you deserve because of necessity or old age. We even talked about what it would look like if because of your special needs you weren't able to adapt to your life in our family, if you were unable to live with us because of the damage that's been done to your sweet little body and mind in the orphanage. We've known several adoptive families who have had to place their children in group homes for the child's safety and for the family's safety. There are no guarantees, Hannah! You might not adjust to our family.....but WE LOVE YOU. NO MATTER WHAT.
If Jesus sees fit to bring you home to us, we will love you with an unending and unselfish kind of love. No matter what. Special needs? We'll love you. Perfectly normal? We'll love you. Group home? We'll love you. Radical attachment disorder? We'll love you. I pray we can love you face to face in this life. But if another family is meant to have you grace them with your presence...then know this, sweet Hannah....we will love you in Heaven. We will pray every day for you, at some point in your life, to ask Jesus to put His heart inside your chest, and yours in His. That he would be your Daddy and you would be his child, and that with Him, you would find yourself in Heaven one day, being clobbered with kisses and hugs by two complete strangers who will have been praying your whole life for you...and waiting anxiously to meet you on the day your Daddy calls you home.
I love you, Hannah.
You were the best part of our five year anniversary.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Here I am, writing back and forth to the wonderful folks at Reeces Rainbow, trying to figure out how to bring Hannah home. I'm getting mostly bad news. But for some reason, I feel more hope than I have ever felt since I saw Hannah for the very first time.
Back up to Christmas Eve. Sitting in our bedroom, looking at pictures of waiting children on All God's Children's website, I stumble across a little guy named Jackson with Down Syndrome. He is adorable. Just sick amounts of cute. And in reading his file, he is mentioned as "a favorite among the caretakers". Well that would just be perfect for our family. Yes he has Hep B. Yes he has Down Syndrome. But I have weak ankles and he needs a family. So, I ooh and ahhh over him for the rest of that day; going back to his bio, looking at his picture over and over again. But then, for some reason, I scrolled down. There were dozens of sweet children aching for love, dozens of beautiful faces peering back at me, but all at once, there was this pair of unbelievable black eyes looking into mine. And my heart stopped. Hannah.
Here's what never to do:
#1. Never look at baby bunnies with your children on youtube (because you and your bunny hungry offspring will set up a sneak attack on your husband, doing your best to convince him that a bunny IS thee perfect pet. Then you will be left to console the broken-hearted children when daddy grumbles out an unequivocal "No!")
#2. Never look at orphaned children unless you've talked to your husband first (because you will fall in love with one of them, and your whole world will begin revolving around praying for, pleading for, vying for this child. Nevermind, that this child lives half way across the world. Nevermind, that your family doesn't meet a bunch of the stringent requirements that her home country imposes on perspective adoptive couples. Nevermind that the adoption process makes you want to curl into the fetal position and then stay there for a few days)
So, I do what any star-crossed mommy would do. I emailed her agency and asked for more information about her.
To paraphrase the email I got back, "You're too poor to adopt her."
DOOR #1 slams shut in my face.
At this point, I'm kind of relieved, like, "Okay, well that was clearly just a crazy little tangent I went on. Definitely hormones mixed with sleeplessness, and stress and probably a high tide or something. But we don't even qualify. So, I guess this is goodbye, Hannah." Tears, tears, tears.
But then I think about it some more and pull myself up by my pathetically un-Christ-like boot straps and think, "Well just because we can't adopt her, doesn't mean God led me to her by accident. Maybe He just really wants me to pray for her! For her health, for her development, for every day necessities to be provided for her, for her to find her Forever Family, and for them to turn the heat up because forcryingoutloud she's wearing a winter jacket indoors!"
I readily agree to do this on her behalf, and from that day since, I have stared at her sweet little face (which may or may not be printed and stuck to the mirror in our bedroom right next to the family picture Peter gave me for mother's day of him and our two darling children, Lily and Liam) I spend hours looking at her face...memorizing it's lines and creases. Memorizing it's baby-esque simplicity and it's old-soul-like complexity. Children in orphanages have been through more in their short lives than most people live in an entire lifetime here on earth and it shows in their eyes. Their eyes have volumes and volumes to tell us. Every day since that day I have prayed for her. And here's the thing...instead of being more and more sure that another family is going to adopt her...I feel more and more certain that God is going to do a miracle, and that Hannah will be our daughter.
But the rubber meets the road with this thought that rolls around in my head and heart almost as much as my thoughts of her running with Lily and Liam in our back yard, or going on walks in the stroller, or learning to ride her first bicycle. The thought that pervades my every waking moment is, even if she never wakes up in the sunny green room she would share with Lily in our home. Even if she is never ours to love and cherish...I am going to hold that girl in Heaven someday. Because I pray above all things, for her to come to know the Christ who loves her with a wondrous and fierce sort of love. Please, Lord. Ransom her from hell and into a family with Jesus at its center.
Back up to Christmas Eve. Sitting in our bedroom, looking at pictures of waiting children on All God's Children's website, I stumble across a little guy named Jackson with Down Syndrome. He is adorable. Just sick amounts of cute. And in reading his file, he is mentioned as "a favorite among the caretakers". Well that would just be perfect for our family. Yes he has Hep B. Yes he has Down Syndrome. But I have weak ankles and he needs a family. So, I ooh and ahhh over him for the rest of that day; going back to his bio, looking at his picture over and over again. But then, for some reason, I scrolled down. There were dozens of sweet children aching for love, dozens of beautiful faces peering back at me, but all at once, there was this pair of unbelievable black eyes looking into mine. And my heart stopped. Hannah.
Here's what never to do:
#1. Never look at baby bunnies with your children on youtube (because you and your bunny hungry offspring will set up a sneak attack on your husband, doing your best to convince him that a bunny IS thee perfect pet. Then you will be left to console the broken-hearted children when daddy grumbles out an unequivocal "No!")
#2. Never look at orphaned children unless you've talked to your husband first (because you will fall in love with one of them, and your whole world will begin revolving around praying for, pleading for, vying for this child. Nevermind, that this child lives half way across the world. Nevermind, that your family doesn't meet a bunch of the stringent requirements that her home country imposes on perspective adoptive couples. Nevermind that the adoption process makes you want to curl into the fetal position and then stay there for a few days)
So, I do what any star-crossed mommy would do. I emailed her agency and asked for more information about her.
To paraphrase the email I got back, "You're too poor to adopt her."
DOOR #1 slams shut in my face.
At this point, I'm kind of relieved, like, "Okay, well that was clearly just a crazy little tangent I went on. Definitely hormones mixed with sleeplessness, and stress and probably a high tide or something. But we don't even qualify. So, I guess this is goodbye, Hannah." Tears, tears, tears.
But then I think about it some more and pull myself up by my pathetically un-Christ-like boot straps and think, "Well just because we can't adopt her, doesn't mean God led me to her by accident. Maybe He just really wants me to pray for her! For her health, for her development, for every day necessities to be provided for her, for her to find her Forever Family, and for them to turn the heat up because forcryingoutloud she's wearing a winter jacket indoors!"
I readily agree to do this on her behalf, and from that day since, I have stared at her sweet little face (which may or may not be printed and stuck to the mirror in our bedroom right next to the family picture Peter gave me for mother's day of him and our two darling children, Lily and Liam) I spend hours looking at her face...memorizing it's lines and creases. Memorizing it's baby-esque simplicity and it's old-soul-like complexity. Children in orphanages have been through more in their short lives than most people live in an entire lifetime here on earth and it shows in their eyes. Their eyes have volumes and volumes to tell us. Every day since that day I have prayed for her. And here's the thing...instead of being more and more sure that another family is going to adopt her...I feel more and more certain that God is going to do a miracle, and that Hannah will be our daughter.
But the rubber meets the road with this thought that rolls around in my head and heart almost as much as my thoughts of her running with Lily and Liam in our back yard, or going on walks in the stroller, or learning to ride her first bicycle. The thought that pervades my every waking moment is, even if she never wakes up in the sunny green room she would share with Lily in our home. Even if she is never ours to love and cherish...I am going to hold that girl in Heaven someday. Because I pray above all things, for her to come to know the Christ who loves her with a wondrous and fierce sort of love. Please, Lord. Ransom her from hell and into a family with Jesus at its center.
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