“But why would he skip Ethiopia?”

Those are the words that have replayed in my head all day - the innocent question of a teenage boy.  No longer an orphan, but some of the time, still acting like that is the only life he will ever know. 

“Where does he really live?”

“How many elves does he have?”

“Can I ask him for anything?”

“How many toys does every kid get?”

“How does he know where I live?”

It was supposed to be an endless breakfast that I didn’t have to cook… with a quick picture on Santa’s lap for the scrapbook I’ll never get to.  I had no idea what was about to play out.

The thought process of a boy who only knows the fend-for-yourself-life,
the orphanage-life,

the get-there-first-life,
the beg-on-the-street-for-dinner-life…
the mind of that boy was on full speed, and he was determined to have his questions regarding this “Santa” guy answered. 

“Mom? If he goes all over the world, why did he always skip me? Why would he skip Ethiopia?”

While he was questioning Santa...

The mind of this very protective mom fumbles for the right choice of words.  

I remind him of our conversations about the “Naughty and Nice List.”  Then the conversation starts coming together.  We begin to talk about life in an orphanage.  He hasn’t forgotten a thing about his old life.  I know we are replacing old memories with new, insecurities with confidence, fear with hope.  I know he will believe anything I tell him, and I have to be careful with his trust.

“Remember how many boys were naughty and liked to make you fight?” I begin, feeling my way through his emotions.  “I believe you would have been on the “Nice List” even before you were my son.”  I explain, “I am going to do my best to think like Santa.  I have been talking to him every year at this breakfast, so I think I know him pretty good.  I believe Santa would have brought you a present.  But you tell me, what would happen if Santa brought you and a couple of the other good boys a fun new toy?”

His liquid eyes squeeze up a little and I know he is picturing such a magical day.  He final replies, “I think the other boys would steal it and break it.”

“Then you would have felt really sad, right?”

“I guess.”

We both know that the big boys would have taken it, maybe sold it on the street later or broke it open to see what was inside and discover how it worked. 

“I think Santa was protecting you.  I think he didn’t want the other boys to fight you and take away your new toy.  I think he didn’t want you to feel sad for loosing a new toy.”

A mom just can’t explain to her little boy why there will always be darkness attempting to overshadow the light.

A little more trusting and excited after our talk…
and asking for a pair of Heeley's. 

There aren’t easy answers to many of his questions, but there is reassurance that he lives in a family now that will celebrate his new toy in a few days.  He has a brother and a few sisters that are going to cheer for him as he opens his special gift from Santa.  In the safety of his family, he won’t have to think about someone taking that special toy away from him.  He will simply get to treasure it. 

He’ll know that Santa loves all of God’s children all over the world. 

Whether they were born to a teenage girl to die on a cross for our sins,

or born to a mom that laughed at the news of her pregnancy,

or born to a mom that wept on the steps only to hand him back over a few years later,

or born to a mom that would die a few short years later…

… or born in the heart of a mom when she was a little girl and had to wait until he was a teenager to finally be brought home to her. 

This year, my little boy will know Santa will always bring him one fun gift to enjoy. 

However, it was Jesus that brought him to our family, and that is one gift that cannot be delivered on a sleigh, cannot be taken away and will grow more in love with each year.

Chapters

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.

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.

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.

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”

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. 

       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 streets of Ethiopia and anticipate God calling on me to serve one of His children and look more like Him.  My soul hungers for Ethiopia, and I will embrace the day when my kids are ready to head back for a long visit.

       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.

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.

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.

Together at last!

My chaos!

Temper Tantrums

When I was a little girl, I threw a fit right in the middle of the mall.  It was a full out temper tantrum with tears and whining and fully embarrassing my parents.  I was a fighter, and I wanted a book.  My heart was broke.  It was just a book. 

The depth of my heartache right now is beyond anything little teenage me could even begin to understand, and it would fill the pages of any book I could write.  The love a mom has for her children begins to grow the minute she discovers she is carrying a baby.  It’s a love that is so strong you would lay down your life just to see your child smile. 

In December, we signed our first papers on our second adoption.  The love I am only beginning to understand for my children is so strong that it refuses to tire.  I fight for them daily.  I call out to God on their behalf, hourly… and sometimes more.  Just the thought of their beautiful faces takes my breath away, and when I think of them in Ethiopia without me there to hold them, my heart breaks. 

I know she is crying.  She expected us to come just days after her 15^th birthday.  That’s the way it is supposed to work.  Do an insane amount of paperwork, turn it in, wait.  You have a BRI (Birth Relative Interview), you submit to PAIR to prove that your children are truly orphans, and then you wait some more.  You do another BRI, complete your investigation on your children, receive a PAIR letter and then a MOWCYA (Ministry of Women, Children and Youth Affairs) letter, and then you go jump on a big plane… all in a week. 

That is the plan. 

That is not our story. 

I am not on a plane. 

I am not holding my son and daughter. 

I am sitting alone in the mountains crying out to my God who promises me that if I trust Him, He will far exceed my expectations.   

I’m waiting. 

Waiting for a phone call… every day for the last two week. 

Waiting for the tears to stop falling down my cheeks.

Waiting for God to hear the crack in my voice as I cry out to Him. 

   GOD!!! Can you hear me!?! 

   Are they still crying out to You?  Do You hear them?

   Do they still trust You? 

   Are they loosing hope that their turn to be part of a family is slipping away?

   God!  Do you hear us???  

   Are our voices loud enough to reach You in this noisy world?

You wouldn’t stay away at a time such as this, right? Not the God I know!  He draws so near that I can feel His breath on my skin, but my strength is running out.  Adoption is not for the faint of heart! I feel defeated and weak and struggling to live out the holy discontent that resides in my soul… defend the orphan!  Be their voice.  Plead their case.  I am unable to do anything more than draw near to You, and expect You to be my strength.

I will fight for those two orphans until the day You set them in our family, under my roof, and held tightly in my arms.  I will fight for them when they loose hope. I will not let my heartache pull me anywhere but straight into Your loving arms. 

Even in the midst of my spiritual temper tantrums, Father, I am crazy about You.  I know You love them more than I do.  You know my heart. Even when I was just a little girl, You created in me a fire to fight for what I want.  It may have come out as a whine in the middle of the mall, but I’ve grown up.  At least a little, right? 

"Come close to God, and God will come close to you.”  James 4:8a

Better Than Update Day!

For 30 days a month… I wait.

It’s painful.

Yet, it also fills me with a level of anticipation that compares to little else.

I check my phone every time it bings in hopes that the email that just came through reveals the title “Monthly Update.”

That’s all I can hope for right now. I am invited to ask both of my Ethiopian kiddos 5 simple questions each month, and 30 long days later, they will send me their answers and an updated picture. Update day is my favorite day… for now.

But... every once in awhile, another adoptive parent will head over for court or embassy and then the real fun begins.  Last week was one of those weeks!  Two girlfriends headed to Ethiopia and took small care packages to our kids. For a couple days in a row, my phone would pop up new pictures of my sweet teens.

One after another.

The moms would write me funny stories that show how different my kids are.  My daughter was busy requesting a photo shoot with another little girl, but my son was protesting, saying they already took too many pictures of him. He told one friend, “my mom already knows what I look like!” 

They shared innocent words from my kids and heartbreaking messages about needing to comfort my daughter as she cried. She simply wanted to know when it would be her mom’s turn to come to Ethiopia. She wanted to know when she would get to hug her mom.

She is not the only one.

There is nothing I want more than to hold that little girl and her beautiful little brother. In order to do that, I still need a PAIR letter.  A simply letter that proves they are orphans and invites us to come to Ethiopia for court. For months we have had to wait for that letter. 

It. Is. Coming. Right?

Although one letter can’t seem to find its way to me, another one did.  Today, I opened up my mailbox to find a handwritten letter so full of the word LOVE it sounds like it was written by… well… a teenage girl!

A little piece of her full page letter… 

And it was!

The friend that had to comfort my daughter and wipe away her tears for me last week brought back to the states a letter from my daughter. It begins, “Dear my family.” What a powerful word for a 14-year-old orphan to write.  Family. 

Once a month, I get an update, but every day I have hope.  

This month… I pray for a PAIR letter. 

This month… I want to hold all 5 of my children in my arms.

This month… I dream of hearing my two favorite African voices call me “Mommy.”

Love

L = Little Hearts

There are three not-so-little kids living in this dysfunctional house of ours!  They are a blast to hang out with and funnier than I will ever be, but what I cannot seem to understand about them is where they get their big hearts.  They are little people with compassion and selflessness like I’ve never known.  Every ride to school, their sports or a lunch date begins with the same questions, “What’s the latest on my brother and sister?  What don’t I know?  Where are we at in the process today?” 

They write their siblings letters and draw them pictures to hang by their beds.  They draw “floor plans” for the rooms they will be sharing.  They write “I love you” five times on the same page, just so it doesn’t get overlooked.  Their little hearts are bigger than their bodies. 

O = Oceans Apart

New friends keep visiting the Transition House that our kids live in, and the best part is getting short messages sent to us from our kids.  We hear almost weekly that our kids love us.  Something about the distance of an ocean doesn’t seem quite so vast when a new message comes through.  Threads are being sewn between our hearts, even during this time when the ocean separates us.   

Little bits of love at a time!

Tie our hearts together. 

V = Valentine’s Day
Oh, how I wish I were allowed to share a few of the photos that we have together.  If I could just show you how Miss M constantly had to be hugging or touching me, or how Mr A liked to climb up on Lukas’ back and get a ride from a much higher view.  I know that if you could just flip through our Shutterfly book of our times together, you would feel the love that radiates out of everyone when we are together.  You can’t package that up like a heart shaped box full of chocolate, but something about picturing their waiting arms makes the word LOVE feel a whole lot stronger this Valentine’s Day. 

One of the first notes we received.

E = Everyone Can Make a Difference

We know that there are families out there that think what we are doing is amazing and inspiring – we hear that a lot and it helps my anxious heart; however, I actually appreciate it when people tell me that I’m out of my mind! Obviously, there is something a little crazy about an incredibly busy and involved family deciding to take on two more teenagers, but you cannot ignore an orphan once you know their name!  You can’t.  I can’t.  

The thing is… God doesn’t call all of us to adopt them.  He may ask you to sponsor, or take a mission trip, or dig a well or be a prayer warrior.  My prayer for the last month has been that my friends would surround us in three ways.


1.  Drown us in prayer!
I know you have been because every time I get a call or an email from our agency, we are blessed with great news.  If we were a normal family, we would still be working on our Home Study.  We aren’t normal.  I had our Home Study and Dossier done and mailed off in 17 days.  Our Dossier now sits in Ethiopia, we’ve been submitted to court, we have been submitted to PAIR, we have our Birth Family Interview at the end of the month and then we can head over ourselves and hug … not orphans… but OUR KIDS for the first time in five months. 

We know you are praying, and we thank God for you!! Please keep lifting us up!

2.  Participate in our adorable fundraiser!

My girlfriends are making me laugh because they have called this stage of mine “nesting.”  I couldn’t think of a better way to define it.  I agree.  I am surrounding myself in little art projects for what I hope to be our only fundraiser.  I know life pulls all of us in different directions and finances are important to every person, but if you are in a place in life that might allow you to share $10 or $100 … or whatever you have stuck in the couch… it would be a huge deal to us.   

Here’s how my “nesting” fundraiser works:

1     - Think of a number between 1-150.

2     - Tell me that you are taking that number.  I’ll take it down off my board. 

3     - Mail our family a check with the dollar amount of the number you choose
(#1 = $1, #24 = $24, #150 = #150… and so on).

4     - I’ll mail you the project that has that number on it and a picture of our new family as a Thank You.

              Sounds easy, right??  And you can stay in your sweats and hoodie!

3.  Pray for Miss M and Mr A to continue to trust Jesus with their future. 

As their mom, I want them to trust in me and know I’ll always make it better.  Sadly, I fall short, a lot, especially when I’m hungry or lacking coffee.  I don’t want them to put their faith in me.  I want them to remember what they have been taught in a song they sang with His Little Feet, “Our God is so great, so big and so mighty, there’s nothing our God cannot do.” 

Please ask God to be present and real to my son and daughter. 

As you celebrate Valentine’s Day today, please know that LOVE is so much more than hearts, chocolate and flowers.  

Love is…

 … “caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.”
 James 1:27

Didn't you already adopt once?

This is the short version of how we got here... again...

They say that God never does a miracle the same way twice.  I’m beginning to think they are wrong.  Whoever “they” are.

It’s not that He can’t… or has to.  I just think He can use any circumstances He wants to. 

Last time we adopted, we had tried for years to get pregnant only to loose the baby at 14 weeks.  Stubborn and determined, I told God He had a year to get me pregnant again or I’d be heading to Uganda to adopt a baby boy.  Somehow, a year later (to the date), we were starting our adoption process on Samantha, an orphan we offered to host for a week.  She was, well… twelve years old… a Russian… and a girl.  Not quite the same thing.

This time, we were not trying to get pregnant.  We had simply decided that we would host an Ethiopian orphan when they came to perform at our church.  Well, that little lady didn’t waste much time stealing my heart. 

On her first night at our house, she turned to me at bedtime and asked, “Auntie Shannon, will you be my mommy?”

Five little words sang out with a giggle and a look of hope in her eyes.  I laughed with her and sent her to bed.  The first stitch between her heart and mine was sewn that night.

“I will not leave you as orphans.  I will come to you.” 

John 14:18

Two days later, those three big kids of mine, were staring down their dad, waiting patiently for him to say we could adopt our two favorite Ethiopian orphans, the teenage girl we hosted and her little brother.  

Waiting for Dad to say he was on board. 

We were all on board and just waiting to make it official when “Oops!” happened!  We were not trying this time around, but we were incredibly excited and slightly unsure of what we would do with a baby in a house of big kids.  All we came up with was that it had to be a boy, he would be named after my dad, and he would have to play soccer.  We were deciding on room arrangements when we found out it was an ectopic pregnancy.  We lost our baby at 10 weeks.

With tears still wet in their eyes, the kids starting begging us to pick right back up with the adoption.  We needed to heal our hearts and our minds, but the answer was staring back at us every day.  God’s voice was clear. 

Then came her last request.  She wanted to have lunch with me one more time before they would leave to go back home.

After two months and a few dates, everything had changed.  We had just a couple minutes alone together before she needed to go back to her campus.  Her silly teasing question turned into a plea.  Holding on to me with both hands, she cried, “Auntie Shannon, I need you to be my mom!”  The tears were pouring down her cheeks and she was staring straight into my eyes.  My eyes filled quickly and I took her cheeks into my hands and reminded her that God has plans for her life, and that they will be good.

She tried another direction, “Can I come to your house?”
I questioned her, “To stay one more night?”

She rubbed her tears away and said, “No.  To stay all the nights.”

That was the last time we talked. 

Saying goodbye the first time.  She refused to let go. 

As we started our adoption process, they told us that they could not just ask the two of them if they wanted to be adopted by us.  If something fell through on our end, that would leave two kids broken hearted.  I would just have to wait and see if she would ask for us by name.  I knew her brother wouldn’t because he isn’t as outspoken as she is, so we put all our hope and faith in the voice of a 14 year old girl.  Everyone I love was praying that she would be bold, that she would use that voice of hers, and that she would make her wishes known to the right person.

A couple weeks later, during my morning devotion time, I was letting God know how my heart was aching for them.  I asked Him for a miracle and ended my journalling with the words, “Praying for them to be referred to us.”

God understands my inability to practice patience.  It was a couple hours later that I was told that she had been asking for me every day since they got back to Ethiopia! 

If I was sure we wanted to move forward with the adoption, they were ours! 

Our referral… was official.  

Admitting that I liked the idea of having 5 "almost" teenagers… was official. 

Clenching my jaw at the length of a calendar… was official.

I’m convinced that if God wants to use similar circumstances to bend our hearts towards His, He will.  If we choose to trust Him, He will show us again and again how much He loves His children.  

Part of my first love letter from my Ethiopian daughter. 

Prayer Requests:
- For our Ethiopian kids to know Christ, and trust God's plan.
- We have already been submitted to court, but we need a very special paper to be able to go.
- Prayers for our paperwork to be where it needs to be on time.
- Financial support and grants to be awarded to our family. 
- For the Ethiopian government to see the value of raising children in stable families verses the effects of growing up in an institution.