Chapters
3 Months Later
There is nothing to writing.
All you do is sit down at a
typewriter and bleed.
Ernest
Hemingway
Every story has
chapters.
When you’re trying
to sort out an overload of information, or simply trying to survive it, it’s
easier to divide it up into smaller pieces.
Manageable moments of overwhelming joy, gut wrenching heartache, and
everything in-between, all deserve their due respect.
There were clear
chapters to every part of our adoption process and now that our kiddos have been
home for three months, bleeding at the laptop seems like a task worth taking
on… if I can manage a complete thought.
It started with
the “Seriously? We’re going to adopt again?” chapter.
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| Our adoption announcement! |
Last week, my girlfriend read me my
prayer request from this time last year when we were trying to decide if God
was really asking us to do this thing again.
I begged Him to be loud because my world was very chaotic and busy. So, clearly, adopting 2 more teenagers would
make logical sense.
But, she asked… and that’s really
all it took.
Next was the “Referral Chapter” that had me holding
my breath.
These were the days where I prayed
for my shy little girl to have big faith and a bigger mouth. I went to sleep every night asking God to
give her courage and boldness to simply say my name to the counselor.
Weeks weren’t even necessary. It was revealed to me that my darling child
had been asking for me everyday since she returned to Ethiopia. She tells me now, that everyday she would ask
if I had called yet to be her mommy. She
knew I would come for her.
The “Paper Chase” chapter was a quick one…
I somehow managed to do an entire
Home Study and Dossier (a 6 month process) in a little over two weeks. I look at it now and cannot believe how
demanding I was of anyone that held the papers I needed to move to the next
part of the process. I was on a mission.
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| The start to the cabin I built in my backyard. |
The worst chapter
was the “All In God’s Timing and Other
Awful Clichés”
I built a cabin. I painted random walls. I pouted, cried, screamed. I ate too much Mexican food, coffee and chocolate…
but that’s all normal. That was THE
WORST!
But then… the “I’ll Never Let You Go Again” chapter
erased the previous 5 months.
Finally, we got to fly to Ethiopia
and see our kids for the first time as “Our Kids.” Those were my babies and I was right where I wanted to be. I was at peace… for a week.
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| Shirts to remember we are coming back! |
A few weeks later came
the day dreaming chapter… “Go Get Them
and Bring Them Home”
I could feel myself slowly becoming
more alive and excited to put a close to the chaos of the adoption
process. I just wanted my family to all
be together, sleeping under the same roof.
I was surprised
when the next chapter was called “I
Can’t Live Here Anymore”
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| Our little joy. |
I have felt my heart pulling me
toward Africa for almost a decade, but I was in no way prepared for the
desperate ache in my heart when I left.
I’m pretty sure I cried every day for three weeks straight.
- One darling trouble maker’s, 2 year old excitement over my coming “home” (to the orphanage) and furious screams when I left, never left my mind. They still haven’t. I love her. She can’t be adopted or she’d be here by now.
- I called on other moms to take care of the 4 year old that lives on the street, alone. What more could I have done to set her up for long-term success?
- My mind wondered about the one month old infant that God brought me to. He allowed me to save her by simply teaching others the basics of human attachment, bonding and trust.
- One darling trouble maker’s, 2 year old excitement over my coming “home” (to the orphanage) and furious screams when I left, never left my mind. They still haven’t. I love her. She can’t be adopted or she’d be here by now.
- I called on other moms to take care of the 4 year old that lives on the street, alone. What more could I have done to set her up for long-term success?
- My mind wondered about the one month old infant that God brought me to. He allowed me to save her by simply teaching others the basics of human attachment, bonding and trust.
The things about it, is that I need those daily moments of God using me
to be His hands and feet. My heart still
hurts. My mind still races. I want to
walk the
It has been a long chapter.
As the fog slowly lifted,
the next chapter didn’t miss a beat. “Who
Said Adoption is a Fairy Tale?” overlapped the previous chapter.
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| The day I figured out that eating Runza helped him focus! |
Our kiddos have adjusted amazingly
well to their American life, but there have been times when my eyes have been
opened to a world of pain I had no idea could exist in the heart and soul of
two tiny teenagers. Dinner conversations
shock me to the point of pushing my plate away.
Nightly stories and prayers evolve into a time of healing their
heartache. Drives around town allow for
questions that plagued their minds all day to find the answers they seek. And homeschool time… oh, please… how many
hundreds of times will we say sight words like “as” and “at” before they
finally stick???
The thing is… it’s them. So even if they were to fall apart every day
(they don’t), even if they only told heartbreaking stories (they don’t), and
even if they never fall in love with the smell of books (I pray they will)…
it’s them. And they are mine. I get to
be there every moment. I’m so infatuated.
I’m so over the top in love with them.
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| And of course, Starbucks helps my little girl focus! |
Our current
chapter can only be called “You’re mine
now. Always.”
My baby girl is nothing more than a
5 year old in a 14 year old’s body. She
wants to be held, rocked, read to, kissed and hear how loved she is. Every night, I’m the one that gets to kiss my
daughter at least ten times all over her face and tell her that she is God’s beautiful
child. She snuck in bed with me late one time and let me hold her all night
long. Her beautiful curls tickled my
nose for hours. For some foolish reason,
she thinks we are all the most amazing people.
She sees us the way God does, and I’m not sure she realizes that we see
her the same way. I see a girl that is
so willing to love, she’s going to move mountains.
Yesterday morning, my man child
locked eyes with me and said, “You’re the only one who trusts me.” I didn’t even respond. I said nothing. I looked him in the eyes a little longer than
normal. He smiled and said, “Bye
mom.” Then he walked confidently into
school. I just watched, then I cried.
Today was harder. Much harder.
Days like today make me hate the enemy that calls earth his own. He’s heartless and attacks the weak, the enemy,
not my son. My son is a fighter
though, and he knows His Father loves him and calls him His son. The chords on the guitar come out as a
declaration as he sings worship songs so loud we can hear him two floors
away. He looks at his big brother like
he is personally responsible for all things good in this world. He has a laugh that will stop you in your
tracks, and a light that will blind the world.
I never know what the day will
bring. Some mornings I walk on
eggshells, afraid to rock the boat.
Other days I can ask them to climb the highest mountain or swim the
deepest sea, and they would do it without questioning my request. In the same day, “I love you” will spill from
their lips with a shy smile, but being in this country will be more then they
can handle. This is life. It’s ours. It’s theirs. We are one family.
I live with the tension of knowing
that some chapters aren’t ready to end, but I refuse to remain stuck while
others are waiting to begin.
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| Together at last! |
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| My chaos! |
