the month, the week, the day, the second…

January 4, 2013 — 3 Comments

Every day around this time I feel my heart sinking.

It’s worse on Fridays.

It marks another day I won’t be receiving a call. It marks another week we’ve heard no news.

And this mama-heart just keeps beating louder and louder.

Before Christmas, I had some trouble sleeping. I went through everything I posted this year and read every single word all over again. In so many ways, it was amazing to see just how much God moved on our behalf.

But in small way – in a way I can’t think about too much because I feel my heart fold in on herself – it really, really hurt.

Last Christmas, I never imagined us still being without a child. In March, I felt as if we were being pulled along by something bigger than us – something we couldn’t even control. Like we were on some kind of freight train headed straight to our child and there would be no stopping – no slowing down – until he or she was in our arms.

And then one day in April before I left for work, I felt this imperceptible nudge in my spirit. I remember when it happened. I remember standing up from the couch, feeling the nudge, and then letting my body fall against the cold leather again.

I sat there for a few seconds before breathing deep and whispering, “what is it, Father?”

Three beats of silence.

And then, and then….“today is the day. Are you ready?” My heart skipped a beat. I swallowed. I looked around. I shook my head because surely I didn’t hear what I just thought I heard. Surely it was just my hormones/emotions/wishes/demands speaking for Him.

“Don’t screw with me, God. Please. You know me. You know my heart. What do you mean today is the day.” 

(I did say this, by the way. I pushed the heels of my hands against my eyes and I fought the tears and I begged Him to not screw with me. As if I’m a toy. A puppet on a string.)

I never got an answer (do we ever?) but I know I heard Him that morning. This flesh-and-blood heart fails me more often than not, but that morning my heart and soul worked together and I experienced something so profound I still haven’t found words to describe it.

It was if my soul nodded and my heart pulled me up by her strings and turned me toward our future child.

And this was nine months ago. And I’m not sure what this means and I’d be lying if I haven’t wondered but I also know more than anything I could ever fully express that this process has introduced me to an element of the mysterious.

So on days like today, when the clock is inching toward evening and every second is another second I’m without, I know Who is with me. And I know He hears me.

And I know somewhere, He’s holding our baby in the palm of His hand, just waiting for that second the phone will ring.

On days like today, I take comfort in Him knowing the month, the week, the day, the second it all happens.

Even if my arms ache from emptiness.

In Mom-Heart
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closer than ever.

December 19, 2012 — 8 Comments

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A few months ago, our church hosted a series on adoption. It broke me in all the right ways: reminding me of His love for us and our future child, whispering again His constant provision and that He has everything – even our bank account – under control.

And then we met with a couple who heads up a sending organization. We talked with them of dreams we have – and how this adoption has moved us to the point of faith we never imagined even a year ago. The man smiled as he listened, and then said “you know – I’m going to pray for this child of yours. I’m going to pray you guys become parents at the precise moment you’re meant to, and I’m praying you always remember the joys of living under the Kingdom economy.”

I paused a bit there, a little unsure of where he was going. He looked at us and shook his head, “I can’t tell you how many couples we send who by all means shouldn’t have found the money to make it overseas. Our economy is not God’s economy.”

And then I squeezed Russ’ knee, because I knew.

Our life right now? It doesn’t make sense. My quitting does not equate to any sudden onslaught of money. I write, yes. I’ve published a book – true. But I haven’t seen any money from Come Alive yet and going from a steady, secure and nice income to well…a future filled with question marks is devastating to this control idol I’ve held on to with such force.

And freeing. It’s so completely freeing.

The following week, we were approached by a friend who said him and his wife felt called to participate in helping us bring our child home. He sent our agency a generous check, and we were clear through mid-December in payments.

This still left us wondering how and when we’d pay off the rest, but I wasn’t concerned anymore. I’d seen Him provide for us every month at just the right moment; He would do the same for our adoption. I knew it.

Over the past few weeks, we’ve been talking with a friend from church who now lives overseas. After a few vague texts from a mutual friend, we received an email from him stating that after hearing the Stone’s series on adoption, him and his wife wanted to join with those in the midst of the process. He asked us to share our story, asked us what we were doing to fundraise, and asked how much we owed.

And then he told us he would pay the rest.

There’s really no words to explain how I felt in that moment of complete grace and generosity. Two months ago, in the midst of our adoption falling apart and feeling the weight of expectation failure, I would look at the amount we owe – close to 10,000 dollars – and feel the fear creep up and turn to a bitter disbelief. I felt forgotten. Manipulated. Tossed aside.

This whole process has been a lesson in extreme faith. Do I trust Him enough to create a new budget without my income? Do I believe in His faithfulness in providing for us? Do I share all of the ways He’s stepped in and moved on our behalf?

I hope so, but I know my finite human heart. I know the difficulty of seeing such a huge number and all of the hurdles we have yet to jump and think, “really? You’re for me even here? Now? Because…all I see is debris.”

But the truth? If I look close enough, I don’t see broken pieces. I don’t see debris from everything that’s fallen apart. I see a mosaic telling a story of His goodness and restoration.

A few days ago, we sent the last of the checks and a copy of my book to our agency in Houston. As soon as our case worker receives the package and deposits the checks, Jubilee will be fully funded.

Completely.

And just like that, we’re closer than we’ve ever been to bringing our little one home.

In Fundraising
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where He dwells.

December 3, 2012 — Leave a comment

I stood in the sanctuary, watching my friend’s eyes tear up as I told her of a recent jubilee moment.

“Isn’t it just like Him?” she said, smiling. “It’s like there are moments where He will just not relent and will come bursting forth in order for His name to be known.”

And then she pulled me close and I felt the tears forming – the ones I hadn’t been able to squeeze out because for once, my emotions were stunned into silence.

Last week, I felt a strong urge to enter into this season with a sense of holy hush – an expectancy that He could and would move mountains – a reminder of the impossibility of virgin birth and a Savior made human in a rush of blood.

And today, as I pulled out my word for these advent windows I’m searching through, I stared at the piece of paper that said visit and felt that familiar curl of my lip, the one that would probably stave off anyone wanting to spend time with me for fear of grinchy behavior rubbing off on them.

So I walked into my office, pulled out my art journal and started meditating on the word. This is when it hit me.

It is not just one moment out of a million in which we need His presence. It is not just one month out of an otherwise too-busy year in which we slow down and turn our heads toward the heavens.

It is every day. Every minute. Every moment.

And here, in this seemingly impossible moment, He visits. He stays. He teaches me rest.

Things are moving-yet-stagnant in our file at the adoption agency. We feel Him creating something new, even now, even in the conversations with our social worker where we wonder how to prove budgets mean nothing and numbers aren’t scary when resting in the economy of Christ.

And so we wait, and praise, and rest, knowing that it is in this impossibility He dwells.

In Jubilee
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words as unexpected gifts.

November 28, 2012 — Leave a comment

About a month and a half ago, God began moving in me to take a step of faith and complete NaNoWriMo. For those of you who don’t know what this is, it’s where a bunch of people go crazy for a month and try to write 50,000 words, which is the length of a short novel. I’ve done it before – I did it with Come Alive. And I think for a long time, there was this thought inside that if He were asking me to do NaNoWriMo, it must mean that He wanted me to write a novel, and that by the end of November I would have 50,000 solid words toward the possible ending of a new book.

…

I didn’t have any idea what I would write about until November 1. About two weeks in, I figured out my conflict. Just today, 40,000+ words into the month, I realized most of the words I’ve written and slaved over won’t ever see the light of day. It took me the whole month just to figure out what the novel can be about – so really, I’ve experienced what it means to write yourself into a completely different book.

Which, a lot of this makes sense. Before signing up for coffee binging word chaos, my risk factor was fairly low when it came to writing. Why spend so much time on a piece when no one would read it? That’s dumb. But, I was feeling a pull to create quietly and with less fanfare. It’s been fun to play around with characters and lose myself in writing.

And plus, I needed the distraction.

Can I be honest here for a second? There were times these past few weeks where I almost forgot about the adoption. For a little while, I wasn’t “the girl who was supposed to have a daughter by now” – I was just…Elora. The writer. There were still moments where the angst and the frustration snuck up on me and the desperation of just the whole entire process of wait made it difficult to breathe, but I pushed that pain into my writing. And now, at the end of November, it seems like forever ago when we got the call about our adoption falling apart. I feel like a different person. Maybe a little more grounded in reality? I don’t know. There are still days where I realize I’ve fallen back into the mindset of “this will never happen” – but I try to keep those thoughts at bay.

Which is why I’m thankful for how God brings the unexpected – even if they are words – at moments where we feel our heart may burst.

In Mom-Heart
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two years

November 6, 2012 — Leave a comment

Yesterday marked two years.

On November 5, 2010, I never imagined it would take this long. Even when we sent in paperwork for international adoption, the Ethiopian process averaged out to be a little over a year. But this quickly changed – along with the landscape of adoption overseas. God moved in our hearts and we realized for us, for now, international adoption wouldn’t be where we found our child.

So we switched to domestic and even in that switch I never anticipated it being another year and a half before hearing anything. If you would have told me two years ago I’d be sitting on my bed on November 6, 2012 with no child around me, I most likely would have cowered from the whole thing.

I say all this not to evoke pity but to explain just how much I cling to God’s providence.

Some friends of ours brought home their son yesterday.

They shared with us a small piece of the story – how they were reminded of God as Father and not some detached Being somewhere in the cosmos doing whatever He wants. He listened to their prayers. He knew their hearts and knew the desperation of wanting to see their son.

And He answered in a way far beyond their expectations.

This is why I cling to His timing. Trust me. This whole hurry up and wait of adoption is grueling at best. In moments of frustration and confusion on why this is taking entirely too long, I remember His faithfulness. When other people who started international adoption after we did and bring home their children before we do, I remember His purpose.

And when friends go through the wait and celebration right alongside us, I remember His love and I know despite what I feel - He knows. He sees our child and holds him or her in His hand.

In Mom-Heart, The Process
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