Affirmation, Hope, Reality

As you read in my last post, things have been going down hill in the appliance and cars category in the Roberts household. The truth is, things have been pretty difficult in general. We've had some major relief this week, but I am very aware that this sort of thing will continue to happen to us as we continue down this adoption road. 

Last week I wrote a post at my other blog, "Motherhood She Wrote", that shared pretty clearly where I was at emotionally. It was rough. 

Today, I read this post from a mother who has adopted twice, with a total of 8 Ethiopian children. Did I mention she started out with 4 biological children? And before you think she's some weirdo in a flannel jumper singing hymns as she homeschools her 12 children, she's SO not. Her kids aren't even homeschooled (which means that according to some, she's already points ahead of me on the cool scale). She writes honestly and lovingly about their journey to being a family with 12 children. So, she's been there. She knows a thing or two. Read her post. After you do, you'll probably understand a little bit why I had tears streaming down my face at 10 AM this morning, and was shaking my head in wonder of a God who knew I needed someone to tell me that. All of that. 

He's good, that God. So, so good.

What I want to remember

The week (in May) we decided to adopt in the immediate future, our van died. In the months since, we have had the following break down or fall apart:

- our kitchen and entry tile all began cracking and breaking apart (We got a GREAT deal on laminate tile and replaced ourselves)

- our shower head completely broke (normally not a big deal, but it is original to the house and difficult to replace) (UPDATE: B fixed it this weekend!)

- our disposal has broken twice and is now beyond repair (UPDATE: B replaced this weekend)

- our washing machine has broken twice (UPDATE: we finally had to replace it. Boo!)

- our dishwasher is now leaking (UPDATE: Mostly fixed. We think.)

- our bathtub drain is totally broken

- our new van is making a funny noise

- another belt went out in Brandon's car (resulting in no AC during the hottest part of this lovely summer)

I'm keeping this list as a reminder of all the tempting distractions and moneysuckers that flew our way during the early part of this journey. I'm pretty sure this list means two things:

1. Satan really doesn't want our money going toward bringing an orphan into our home and family

2. God was serious when He impressed upon us that we would have to depend on Him for every bit of this journey.

So, Satan, in case you're reading this, we have no intention of quitting. We don't care how long it takes. We are in this for good.

And God, we trust you. You have never failed us. You will not fail our daughter. 

Out of Focus

Recently I had the privilege of writing a letter of recommendation for our friends, who are also adopting. Aside from the fact that it helped them to complete their dossier (Woo Hoo!!!!), it was a great exercise for me to sit down and write about all the things I love about these sweet friends, who have been so instrumental in the last decade of our life. As I reflected on their (many) strengths, one thing really stuck out to me. 

They're teachable., Forgive me for the use of a buzz word, but it really is the best descriptor of this particular quality. They are confident parents who act out of conviction, prayer, and love for their kiddos. But they never assume their way is the only way. They seek to be taught, and are open to new information. They are humble in their approach to life, and I just love that about them. 

It's also an incredible example to me. I am one who tends to be all or nothing. I make decisions (well-researched, informed) decisions and I have a hard time being open to anything other than my own understanding of a given topic. I have very strong opinions and I can easily fall into judging others who do not agree with me. 

This is a big problem when you're adopting. I know pretty much nothing. Unless you've been through it or worked extremely closely with adopted children, and particularly internationally adopted children in our case, you just can't know much. I am relying totally on the experience of others to help us succeed in bringing our daughter into our family. All the things I've done with my biological children, all my natural instincts, are pretty much up for debate when it comes to mothering our new daughter, especially at first. Her life experience will be so very different from the children born to us, that we have to consider it at every turn. Attachment will be different. Discipline will be different. Socialization will be different. Food will be different. Everything. 

That is hard. 

But it's also so, so, so good. It means we are being forced to be open-minded. It means that we must be humble, relying on others to help us and impart their wisdom. It means that because we already love our little girl so much, we are totally willing to be the object lesson for going "wide-angle" as we relearn parenting. 

Here's what I'm learning. Education is priceless. I'm not talking about degrees and diplomas. I'm talking about what happens when we go looking for information that challenges our world view a little bit. It's about considering that ours cannot be the only, the best, or the last perspective. I can go on and on and on about what is happening in Ethiopia right now, or I can share a resource that says it for me in a way that I never could. This happened just recently. I pointed a dear friend to "Walk to beautiful", a documentary on Netflix about a major health issue women are facing in Ethiopia. This friend is a nurse and I knew it would interest her. It changed her views totally. She has a big heart, and she just lacked some information. Education rocked her world.

This is happening to me constantly. I am reading books, watching movies, reading articles. And as I take in new information, I can feel transformation. Not too long ago, my world was pretty much my four walls, and now, I feel like I'm not only seeing more and more of the world every day, but I'm looking for it. 

I want so badly to have the teachable spirit that our friends have. I am trying to hold everything loosely these days. Everything I've been told, taught, thought, assumed. And a funny thing is happening. As I let go of more and more of my "convictions" on so many "issues", I'm seeing Jesus more than ever. He's clearer to me than ever. I am more sure of Him than ever. 

I had no idea that all my opinions were blurring Him so much. We've had folks tell us what a blessing we will be to our precious daughter. What I want you to know is that she is a blessing to us. Right now. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be seeing the world so differently. 

And my Jesus would still be just a bit out of focus.

She's Out There

I went to the coast with my mom and my sister last weekend. I'm not sure what it is, but for me, there is nothing on earth like the ocean. I could walk along the sand with my toes in the icy water for hours and hours. We didn't spend hours doing that, but we did walk. 

Along the way I spied a tiny little girl squatted on the edge of the sand, just where the next wave would kiss her toes. She was that wonderful age where freedom is best defined by your ability to wear a bathing suit all day long. Her tan skin was covered in a pink two piece and in goosebumps as she shivered from the wind and the chilly water. But still, she hunched down with her little bucket poised for the next wave, hopeful for shells or sand crabs. 

She shivered, but she stayed. She waited for the waves to fill her bucket up. 

I have no idea if she got her shells, we passed her by without stopping to wait. I hope so though.

One of the very best things about being a child is that nobody tells you these things, these squatting on the sand waiting for shells moments, are a waste of time or a silly way to spend an afternoon. Nobody asks what you are doing. We all know, because we've all been children and we've done the same thing. And the truth is, it's the very best way to spend an afternoon and we're just so glad that children are still doing it!

Can I just tell you that seeing that sweet little girl on the beach that day made me miss my little girl desperately? Yes, miss her. I don't even know her. I have no idea what she looks like, and right now she's not even mine! But I miss her all the same. 

I have these 4 sweet little boys and they have those moments. They have afternoons filled with nothing but filling their buckets. I hope that somewhere in Ethiopia, my sweet girl is having these moments of her own. 

It's hard to think about the whys of her becoming a member of our family. I know something hard will have happened., something I don't want her to ever have to go through. But she will. And time will pass and her hurt will grow, and then she'll come home to us. 

And when she comes home, there will a whole chunk of her life that we won't know about. We'll know the basics, health and family history. But we won't know if she ever stood at the edge of the water, waiting for her bucket to fill, while her mother looked on, enjoying the sight of her baby girl living in the fun of childhood. We won't know if she ran around without a care in the world, ever. 

I'm torn. I want desperately for her to have known those moments, because it means she knew love. But I hate the loss she will feel when whatever hard thing happens, happens. That's my baby girl. I don't want her to hurt. Ever.

My heart feels raw. It feels exposed. I feel compelled to file and refile papers in our adoption binders, research constantly, and make my incessant lists. Because it means I'm doing something. This is a process that is entirely up to God's timing. There is nothing we can do to rush it along. And frankly, it's hard to know that. I haven't had to wait on Him a lot in my life. I didn't have to wait for my husband, I didn't wait for our boys, but this precious daughter of ours.... we are waiting. He is providing each next step, each next dollar, each green light. And we are waiting. 

But when the waiting is over, when she's here and in our arms, I know that I know that I know...

I'm taking her to the beach.