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.

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.

“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.

…

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.

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.

:: FOR THE ENTIRE MONTH OF NOVEMBER ::
Get amazing coffee + help us bring baby Ramirez home + be entered to win free coffee for a year = SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO MISS

Instructions -

1. Go to Just Love Coffee Roasters - https://justlovecoffee.com/about/beneficiary/lovewins/

2. Click “Shop”

3. Choose your coffee (or hot chocolate!) For every bag you purchase, we’ll get five dollars toward our adoption

4. Be entered to win free coffee for a YEAR.

5. SHARE WITH ALL YOUR FRIENDS.

And yesterday was no different.

The sermon started with this video and Matt saying, “do you see the man’s look on his face when he first sees his son? This is nothing compared to how God feels about you – His child.” 

And my heart shattered there in a million pieces even though I’ve seen this video before because that realization of God watching me and looking at me in that tender of a way – it just brought everything home.

Over the past few years, Russ and I have received a lot of questions about the why of our adoption. And I fight a lot with resentment, because it’s as if suddenly your personal life is on display for others and nothing is off limits – even the question of why don’t you just have your own kids? 

And let me just answer that question here once and for all :: We are having our own child and it’s through adoption. For us, adoption is plan A.

The deeper we look at scripture, the more we realize the parallels between the Gospel and adoption. For so many reasons, this is why we chose to adopt. It’s because God loved us first. It’s because even in our deepest pain, He brought us out and rescued us.

This doesn’t mean we’re rescuing a child. Far from it. By our imperfect hands we’d make things worse. However, because of the love He’s shown us and how He’d adopted us into His family, we’re able to turn around and do the same.

It’s not that I’m surprised – because I’ve experienced God enough to know everything is for my good – but I’m beginning to understand His heart more and more even through these past few weeks of heartache. Yesterday, watching the Chens’ reaction and thinking about the day we get the phone call that there really is a baby waiting for us - it just made my heart twist in on herself with longing.

It was then I heard Him – softly - this is how I feel about you, Elora! THIS. What you’ve been through? How you hurt? It makes me hurt. You are my daughter. Do you know how much I love you? Just trust Me. Let me Father you. I want to Father you.

I’d be lying if I said in that moment everything changed – because it didn’t. I still struggle understanding. But, I’m learning to trust and learning once again what it means to abide in His love.

And in the arms of my Father I will rest.

I remember two years ago, right about now, I fought for control over our life without you. Your mother can be selfish in so many ways, and in those moments, I craved comfort.

And motherhood is anything but comfortable.

But we jumped in, as we always do. Your papa and I aren’t known for decisions that make much sense. We like it this way – forces us to rely on faith.

Like now.

There was talk of Halloween at the dinner table tonight. Costumes brainstormed and party invites discussed. It made the old ache return – deep in my chest – because only a few weeks ago I believed there was a chance we’d see you by then. I even stopped a few times at some of the tiny dog-eared suits and lady-bugged bottoms.

But if you weren’t going to be here by then, you’d definitely be here by Thanksgiving, and I remembered the Mama’s Little Turkey shirt I almost placed in the cart when papa and I went to look at carseats.

And well…let’s not get into Christmas. Not yet. My heart’s too tender to think of another one spent waiting without you.

Can I tell you something? It’s hard right now – this keeping the faith. I don’t understand why we would need to believe we were so close to having you in our arms only to find out we have longer to wait. And I know in the end, it still may not make sense but at least we’ll know you really were out there waiting – that there really was someone who needed a mom and dad.

I’m tired of answering questions. Tired of these empty arms. Tired of the road that seems covered with challenges.

Two years ago, on the eve of holidays, I breathed in the cooler air and believed with all of my heart you and I would find each other. Despite my fear, despite the knowing of just how hard this process would be or why adoption would be our plan A -

I knew.

And now?

And now, I’m a little sad and a lot disappointed that our Christmas card will seem lacking without you in it.

But here’s where everything shifts – here’s where I remind you (and me because you know how forgetful I can be about these things) there is no lacking in the plan of Christ and right now our family is full to the brim of love and just waiting for you to spill it over.

Our God always sets the lonely in families – and we are no exception.

Will you hurry to us? We’re here. Waiting.

I mean, it’s not like I can write a story for you if you give.

(although, I will. totally. i mean…if that’s what you want. just let me know.)

As I thought about it though, I realized there were a few things we could do, and there’s some ideas I have brewing over these next few months. I DO know if you need a chef – for anything – you could let us know and the money would go straight to the adoption. I also know we’ll still be selling coffee and still piecing together our adoption puzzle.

But I have something exciting for you today.

Since July, I’ve been letting myself dive more and more into this artist’s heart that’s captured me. I’ve always been an artist – with words and with music. But it’s been a little overwhelming lately the creativity that oozes out without me even noticing. So I figured, why not harness it?

From now until October 29, every person who donates at least fifty dollars to our adoption will be entered to win this painting, His Word in my heart like fire. You can enter multiple times, too – just donate in increments of fifty! 

I’ll announce the winner October 30.

To donate now, click the link below.

 

 

(There’s a lot of these in my draft folder, so – bare with me these next few weeks as I work out the tension of my words.)

A year ago, Russ and I completed a budget sheet for our adoption home study. Since then, we’ve been approved, I quit my job, we were matched with a birth mom, my novel released and the birth mom chose to keep her baby.

Today, I sent off the last bit of retirement I accumulated since we’ve been married to the adoption agency. With it, we completed a new budget sheet – one with just Russ’ income.

On paper, it looks bleak. On paper, it kind of makes me wonder what the hell we’re doing anyway – adopting a child. But then I’m reminded of when we first began when His provision left me breathless or a few months ago when He reminded me He finishes what He starts and I know we’ll be okay.

It’s been like this from the beginning – this thought of who are we fooling. Us? Handle an infant? Us? Figure out what it means to live by faith?

A few months ago, a sweet friend sent me a message with a check.

Let the church be the church she said. Ask for help – people will respond.

And I laughed because this whole self-reliance thing? I’ve got it on lock. So when God told me to quit my job, and when He asked me to pursue writing, and when my novel released, and when Russ’ raise was about a percentage of what his boss asked for on his behalf….

it all leaves me a little anxious and at the same time, expectant.

Here’s the thing: we know God has called us to adopt. We know I needed to quit my job – that sacrificing a few extra hundred dollars a month was worth me staying home when our baby got here.

We don’t know how we’ll get the rest of the payments.

You see, with a typical birth, most families fall under the protection of insurance. Even if you don’t, the monthly payments usually won’t send you in the red.

Adoption isn’t covered. 

And for us, a couple who can’t pay off huge chunks of cash at a time, the monthly payments are the only option – even if this means our process will be prolonged once we’re placed.

Every month, we send in 955 dollars.

Every month, we’ve been able to meet this. Lately, it’s been in large part to my retirement + some incredible friends who consistently give.

It’s hard for me to say this because I know there will be people who won’t understand. I know there are family members who won’t understand. You don’t see pregnant women posting on facebook or twitter or their blogs, asking for money before the birth.

But this is more than a pregnancy, and this is more than us asking for money. This is us begging for support.

From the beginning, we knew this would need to be a community effort. Countless people told us: don’t let money stand in the way of you adopting! And we believed them. We fundraised, we sold coffee, we tried to piece together a puzzle…

…and people responded. They donated. They provided online showers. They bought coffee. Combine this support with our extra income and the payments weren’t that big a deal.

So where are we now?

Right now, we owe 8500 dollars. Right now, there’s no way we can make the 955 a month payment.

Will you pray for us? I know some may wonder why we don’t see this as God closing a door. We think God is bigger than this. We know His heart for the orphan – how it echoes His heart for us - and we believe in His calling on our lives.

If you want to donate, there’s a badge on the right sidebar that says “JOIN US || donate”.

If you want to purchase my novel, which would help as well, you can find it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Rhizome.

We are also still selling coffee and still piecing together our adoption puzzle.

And of course, above all, your prayers will move mountains. 

We love you guys.