National Adoption Month

November is National Adoption Month.
I have been pondering all month about what to say in honor of this month and here I am coming through a day late, but I couldn't let another year go by.

The truth is that it has been hard for me to put into words exactly what I wanted to say. There is so much to say about adoption and my story is only one side of it.

I have gone back and forth on the format and the content of this post. I didn't want to come across as negative or discouraging because my heart is not in either of those things. I also thought about writing about the importance of adoption but I didn't want to paint a one-sided picture.

So I decided to just go with what was on my heart.

This post is for those who have maybe watched an adoption journey from the sidelines (or maybe are starting one) because there is a side of the adoption that often gets written off and forgotten and it's the side that is often impacted the most.

This post is written from a deep place of love but it's purpose is to help shape a new perspective and to open eyes.

The truth is adoption is messy. It's complicated, and it is not something that can just be written off as a "blessing".

There are four types of conversations I have encountered since Barry and I stepped foot on this journey almost 4 years ago. Four things that have heavily stuck out to me and made me realize that the way people view us and more importantly our child are not the way I want the world to look at us when they see our family.

I have merged the four types of conversations into the following categories.

Judgement 
Savior Complex 
Mourning 
Privacy 

Judgement:

One of the things that I found most surprising in our adoption journey is the amount of judgment we've received. Not necessarily about the fact that we were/are adopting (I expected that) but about the way we were going about adoption. The fact that we chose the route of International Adoption over domestic seemed to appall many people. The funny thing was, these weren't people that were pursuing domestic foster care or adoption, they were *mostly* people who've never even pursued adoption at all. Maybe you are reading this and you were (or are) one of these people, let me help you see a new perspective.

God loves children. All children. It doesn't matter what country they were born in, what family they were born into, or what language they speak. He loves them all and he loves them all the same. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

He doesn't look at one child or orphan and say one is more important than the other. They are all loved, valued, and equally important to him.

We have many friends who do (or have done) foster to adopt/domestic adoptions, we love that! Those kids need love and need families just as much as children born in other countries. However, God called us on a different journey with our adoption and that is perfectly okay.

So if someone you know is walking the adoption journey and you don't "agree" with the choice they have made, I would like you to take a look at what you are really saying. AND, if you still don't "agree" then I encourage you to be part of the solution and consider doing foster care and/or adoption.

For those of you walking this adoption journey who may have received this type of judgement, know you are not alone.

Savior Complex:

Often as Christians we talk about the "beauty" of adoption. What a "gift" and "blessing" it is.  While I know these terms and phrases are well meaning, I often feel very uncomfortable when people start telling me that my child is so "blessed" to have us as his parents and we are doing a "good thing".

I am baffled by the number of people who have told me (or people in our family) how "lucky" Tsega is or how "grateful he should be" or how "blessed he is".

I know most people mean well when they say things like this, but I again want to open your eyes to what you're really saying when you make comments like this.

The picture you are painting is a child orphan in need of us (the parents) as a savior.

I never want to be looked at as some kind of savior because that is simply not the case. We did not rescue our child. We are not his Savior, we don't view it that way and we don't want anyone else who looks at our family to view it that way either.

Yes, these children need families to love, care, and help them heal and yes we are and can provide that but we didn't swoop down and save him like some super hero. The only savior our kiddo or any kiddo for that matter needs is Jesus.

That mindset can be very dangerous.

Mourning:

Adoption is Plan B. Maybe not for the adoptive family but for the child (and often everyone else involved) it's Plan B. Children belong in families and they deserve to be with their biological families first and foremost. However, we live in a broken world and that is often not feasible or safe for the child.

Enter Adoption.

The key thing here is adoption is rooted in loss. DEEP loss. Regardless of whether the child entered the adoptive family's arms the minute they were born (for those that think a child adopted at infancy can't suffer trauma, please message me) or 11 years after they were born it is rooted in deep loss. There is no lack of evidence to show the bond that is created between a mother and child in utero, that doesn't just go away when a child enters a new home no matter how loving and open the arms receiving them are.

Children being adopted lose their biological mother, their family, their home (sometimes multiple homes), friends and so much more, not to mention the abuse/trauma that most of them have gone through.

That is a lot for a grown adult to go through let alone a child, and failure to acknowledge or deal with that can further the damage that's already been done.

Yes, God can and does redeem and he can turn a messy, tragic, desperate situation and make it beautiful, but that takes time and a lot of hard work. Often continuous work that is never really done.

Something to keep in mind the next time you see a child who was adopted and you're tempted to call them "lucky" or "blessed", while it is great that they are in a healthy family and environment, what they have gone through to get there was not lucky.

The trauma that children who are in foster care and/or are adopted experience is also not information for the world to know, which leads me to my next point.


Privacy:

Just because a child entered a family in a way different from biologically doesn't mean that their story, medical history/conditions, trauma or anything else is information for any and everyone to have.

Something I have found surprisingly common is how much personal information people want to know about Tsega and his story.  Most people ask this question just out of curiosity, they want to know how the child got into their situation. While I can *kind of* understand why people ask, it is something that I, as a non-confrontational person have struggled to navigate. For the sake of shaping a new perspective I am going to confront it head on:

Adoption never happens because of a good situation, every adoption story is rooted in some sort of deep pain and loss which is not something that everyone wants to relive. Often times children, depending on their age, may not fully understand their story. So to ask to be given information about a child, when the child themselves is still dealing with the ramifications and emotions of it, is inappropriate even if the question isn't asked that way.
An adoptee's past and history is their story to tell when and if they are ready, not the parents. Tsega doesn't even know his full story so for us, we can't justify divulging all of his story to everyone when he doesn't even know what his story is yet.

Protecting an adoptee's story is a key piece to helping them rectify their trauma.

Again, I do not in any way want this to come across as a lecture, a bitter rant, or negative stance on adoption. None of those things are true.

I just couldn't let another year go by and not shed light on these issues because I know most people partake in these conversations from well intentioned places.

Peace is a Promise He Keeps

Growing up we had this very tall palm tree at the front of our yard. Every summer when the monsoons would roll in, I would watch that palm tree sway back and forth, bending further with each gust of wind.

I would sit at the front door nervously looking out the window watching that tree... I was convinced that tree was going to fall over right onto our house. If it wasn't the palm tree, then one of flashes of lightning showing off all over the sky would surely strike our house or yard and catch fire, or the rain would come pouring in and eventually flood our house.

Worry. Worry. Worry. 

I was consumed by it as a child. Just ask my family; they often called me a worrywart because of how much worry would cripple me.

As I have gotten older, I have tried very hard to fight against and overcome worry.

At best it causes you to always revert to worst case scenarios. At its worst, it paralyzes you from being able to move forward in any capacity.

It's not easy to overcome, especially as an internal processor. My mind is often churning, thought after thought after thought after thought. I am either replaying situations, questioning everything that already happened, second guessing what was said, how it was said, the way I acted, if I came across a certain way. Or, I am playing out future scenarios: what if this, what if that, etc., etc.

I am sure by now you have heard the song P E A C E by Hillsong Young & Free. If not, you should go check it out right now. Seriously, stop reading and go listen.

That song is a song I never knew I needed.

After soaking in the lyrics of that song I became keenly aware of just how much I allow worry to affect my thoughts & actions.

This adoption process has tested every facet of faith that I could have ever imagined and worry is no exception.

Literally, every "what if" scenario I have played out in my head has quickly become my reality. Everything I have been scared of, unprepared for, and terrified of happening has happened.

And.

Strangely, through most of this process, especially this last month or so when the script has continued to take every twist and turn imaginable, I have felt intoxicated by the relentless waves of peace. But not just any peace, His peace.


The biggest thing that God has taught me in this process is that God is still good and perfect even when things don't turn out the way that you want them to. That lesson is hard and so scary and not one to take lightly.

Every path my mind has wandered down, every scene that has played out on the screen of my life I have had to stop and say "God you are still good."

Of course we know that God is good and it is really easy to say it and live by it when things play out the way you wanted them to or expected them to.

But... when your biggest fears are your reality, when you are faced with the one thing you never wanted to happen, when the thing he asked you to step into is taken away, when your flesh and mind want to quickly turn to resentment and anger. THEN, in those moments when you have to choose to lean into God's goodness and perfect faithfulness, it no longer becomes an easy thing to say.  It requires you to dig in your heels and deeply know and stand on the fact that he is good and he is perfect, regardless of what happens.

This isn't to stay that I have not struggled with this concept, I have been all over the roller coaster of emotions.

In the last few weeks/month I have felt a shift in the winds. I know now the only way I have been able to confidently walk into the eye of the storm is through the promise of peace that God keeps for us. He can make messes into a beautiful intricate piece in his plan, he can use an obstacle to make a shortcut, and he can provide a ram as a sacrifice in a split second.
But, he doesn't have to do any of those things and sometimes he doesn't. AND. Even when he doesn't do any of those things, even when our worst case scenario plays out, we can still cling to the peace of his goodness, faithfulness, and perfection. 

In the eye of the storm that I can't see past, I have felt Jesus wrap me in his arms and promise His peace because he sees what is coming when the storms passes.

Sitting. Waiting. Wishing.

We walked into the overcrowded, stuffy Social Security Office, went through security and proceeded to the ticket kiosk. My jaw dropped when I saw the number printed on our ticket: 180. My eyes glanced over at the screen and the shock continued. They were on number 118. We walked over to the hard, subway-style metal bench and settled in... This was going to be a long wait.

Have you ever waited in a Social Security Office (or any government building for that matter)? Let me tell you, it's not fun and it's long. There is nothing to do or watch, and if you have a toddler with you, you can't just slip away into your iPhone while the minutes (hours) tick by. When you have a toddler with you, you have to find a way to keep them entertained (and quiet) and keep the both of you from going insane.

Now, I consider myself to be a fairly patient person (I contribute years of child care and teaching experience to that). 

But waiting. 

Waiting is a whole other level of patience. 

Waiting for things is hard.

Especially when we live in a society of instant gratification right at our finger tips (thanks Amazon Prime!).

Waiting is hard because we often don't see purpose in it. When we have to wait all we want is for the waiting to end and we feel justified in our complaining/anger/disappointment/etc. while we wait.

The waiting during this adoption process has been HARD. 

Hard is an understatement. It's been: frustrating, defeating, discouraging, disappointing, agonizing, and downright exhausting.

For months, I have asked God to show me the purpose in this season of wait. I have pleaded with Him to cover me with peace and trust as I wait on his timing.

But, in these last few weeks I have found myself time and time again on my knees crying out to God asking (begging) Him to make this waiting end. I have felt tired, weary, broken-hearted, and weak.

Then I heard the words: Wait well.

Wait well. 

Am I waiting well? What does waiting well look like?

He brought me to the story of Hannah. Hannah was a woman who not only waited for years for a son, but as she waited was constantly antagonized by her rival.

Hannah's story is one I held to tightly during Tsega's adoption, as we shared the same desire and I identified with her deep anguish.

This time He showed me something different in Hannah's story. 

Hannah waited well. 

Hannah, burdened in anguish, desperate to bear a son, tortured by her rival, weeping on her knees, clung to the Father.

Hannah did not lose heart. She did not abandon her God or her faith. Instead, she got on her knees, she wept, and she clung to the Father. 

It is so hard to wait, especially when the waiting doesn't make sense, when the waiting seems like an injustice (or in some cases is an injustice), but we have two choices when we wait. 

We can wait poorly or we can wait well. 

Neither one will make the wait any faster, but one will make you better in the waiting.
In this season of waiting I have been discouraged, I have questioned God's goodness and His faithfulness. I had started to lose heart.

Hannah's story reminded me that I can wait in uncertainty and not falter in my faith because God is certain of the future. His timeline is so different and yet so much better than mine. A day is nothing to Him. Even a few months are mere minutes. I can look back at several instances in my life and be reminded of His goodness and His faithfulness.

I truly do not understand His timing nor does He owe me an explanation for it (ever!) but, I know that He has never let me down, or failed me, and for that I owe Him my trust. Even when I am at my weakest and weariest.

He loves our daughter far more than we ever could (I mean He created her for crying out loud).  He knew her future before we ever even knew her name.

Even though it is hard, and it hurts, and I am TIRED, and I can feel my strength slipping away, I am choosing to press into Him.

"I remain confident of this: 

I will see the goodness of the Lord

 in the land of the living. 

Wait for the Lord; 

be strong and take heart 

and wait for the Lord."

Psalm 27:13-14

Even When

I have hesitated to write this post for a while. In part because I didn't want to face the emotions that come along with writing and in part because I wanted our next update to be a picture of us as a family of four.

On April 20th the three of us boarded a plane to Ethiopia. The following Tuesday (April 24th) we went to the Ethiopian court and legally became the parents of our beautiful daughter. While there, we were able to finish all of the follow up steps...except one. Her visa.

Our case is having a hiccup on the U.S. side which is holding up our ability to bring her to America. This issue does seem like it will get worked out, but there is no definitive timeframe of when that will happen.

So, last week we made the extremely heartbreaking decision to leave Ethiopia. We arrived home Friday night. After spending our first few days home overcoming jet lag I have been hit with a wave of emotions.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. We weren't supposed to leave her behind (again). She is supposed to be here on the couch with me or running around the house playing with her brother.

At least that is not how it was supposed to be in MY mind, in MY timeline, and in MY plans.

What's that saying? "You wanna make God laugh? Tell him your plans."

So many of the Christian cliches have been running through my mind the past few weeks.

"God will work it out in his timing"
"Everything happens for a reason"
"When God says yes, no one can say no"

Obviously there is truth in these statements, some of them are derived from Bible verses. But it dawned on me that I was drowning in the whirlpool of all these sayings.

Do I believe what I say I believe?

We sing lines all the time like "Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders....take me deeper than my feet could ever wander" or "Oh the peace that comes when I'm broken and undone by Your unfailing grace. I can lift my voice and say You can have it all, Lord" or "I will remain confident in this, I will see the goodness of the Lord"  

But when the Spirit does take us to where our trust is without borders, when we are deeper than our feet have ever wandered, do we find peace in the brokenness that comes with it? Do we remain confident that we will see God's goodness? 

Or are those just nice lines in a song that can get us ramped up during worship and we neglect the weight and power of the words we are pouring from our lips?

I ask God all the time to take me deeper, to help me to grow more in Him.. and yet I am always somehow thrown off when he does. 

While we were in Ethiopia, we visited the embassy a couple of times to meet with people about our case in hopes of finding a way to resolve the issues. I went into those meetings feeling so confident that God was going to do something big, he was going to part the waters and move some mountains. I left both meetings feeling discouraged, disheartened, and confused. 

I didn't understand. I had the faith (and it was definitely bigger than a mustard seed). I believed he was going to do it, but he didn't do it. 

This week as I have had time to let the emotions settle and the grief fade, God began to open my eyes. He reminded me of the songs above that I so proudly belt out in worship. He reminded me that I asked for this, I asked for my faith to be made stronger. 

Your faith can't be made stronger if you don't have moments of brokenness and weakness. Those are the moments where you choose if you want to grow. When in your brokenness you choose to press into God and press into his truths. That is when you can begin to feel your faith get stronger. When you choose to stand firm in what you say you believe even when you don't understand. Even when it doesn't make sense, even when you're disappointed, even when it hurts like hell, even when all you want to do is give up and give in. When you choose to cling on to the tiniest piece of thread, that is when His spirit is made strong in you. 

So even though my heart is broken, even though I am incredibly disappointed, even though I am spending my very first Mother's Day with my children on two different continents, even though I am confused and thoroughly don't understand what is happening and why. I am choosing to say yes. Yes, I really do believe what I say I believe. I know that God has already said yes, and no one on this entire Earth can say no. 

Just When You Thought It Couldn't Get Any Crazier!

For those of you who don't actually want to read the blog but clicked on the link just to find out what the crazy thing is... 

I'll give it away right here at the beginning. I won't make you wait for it. 


We are adding a new member to our family through adoption - a 9 year old girl. 


For those of you who want to hear how we got to this point (and maybe to ensure we aren't adding anything special to our morning drinks ;)) You can read our story below:


If you had told me three years ago, when we first started the adoption process, that we would also adopt a 9 year old girl, I would have laughed in your face. 

Not because I didn't like the idea of it. Simply because there was no way that I, a 24 (now 27) year old girl, was/am qualified to parent a 9 year old. I am not old enough, experienced enough, smart enough, brave enough, you get the idea. The idea of adopting an older child had crossed my mind but it was something I couldn't do until I had "more life experience."

God likes to call the "unqualified".


If you had told me last year, when I had touched down in Ethiopia that while I was here we would begin the process of adopting a 9 year old girl, I might have believed you. 

You see, I had seen this little girl in the video clips we'd get of Tsega. I saw the special bond the two of them had/have. I saw the way they adored each other, loved each other, and genuinely sought out the company of one another. 

One of the last videos we received of Tsega before I went out to Ethiopia was him learning how to walk. And who was it in the video teaching him, guiding him, and cheering him on as this clumsy little 18 month old tried to take his first steps but her, this little girl who mysteriously already had a piece of my heart. 

I met her a few days after I first met Tsega, and I felt the Spirit so strongly tugging on my heart to inquire about her. 

I called Barry and asked him to seriously consider and pray about what it would be like to adopt this girl. I am 100% positive he thought I was crazy but I am also 100% positive he was not at all surprised by my asking. 

A week later we decided this was the direction God was taking us. And low and behold wouldn't know that the week after we accepted her referral, Ethiopia put a ban on International Adoptions. 

Last year as you all walked alongside us as we battled ups and downs with this ban, my heart was breaking at the fact that now, there are two children we may never get to bring home. 

As we saw God move mountains with Tsega's adoption and we were able to finally bring him home, we watched our little girl's process stand still. 

Her process needed an extra approval that we didn't have to wait for with Tsega, and that department was refusing to sign them. When they did eventually start signing them they didn't sign ours. This past December parliament in Ethiopia voted to officially end Inter-country Adoptions. When this ban would take place and who it would affect was very unclear (it still is to be honest). 

Even though her process has also been an emotional roller coaster, I have had this steady peace anchoring me down. I knew deep in my spirit that this is what God asked us to do, and we obeyed him. I knew that if he did it before with Tsega's adoption he would do it again with hers. 

AND. 

HE. 

HAS! 

In January we got the extra approval that was needed, this week we got the final approval needed to go to court. We will find out the beginning of April when our court date is and when we will be traveling back to Ethiopia. 

We once again stand astounded and amazed at the goodness of God and they way He proves himself over and over again. 

During this process we have been blessed to receive a matching grant from Lifesong for Orphans.  If you feel led at all to give to us during this process you can click on the link below. 

Online giving: www.lifesongfororphans.org/give/donate. Select “Give to an Adoptive Family.” Complete the online form and fill in “Family Account Number, 7075” and “Family Name, Jordan” fields. 100% of your donation goes to our adoption and all donations are tax deductible.