Isabel Faith: One Year Home.

Exactly one year ago today, Tom and I met Isabel for the first time. 

 

I have spent a lot of time going through all of the photos from the past year, re-living our adoption trip and appreciating afresh all the wonderful new friends that shared a momentous life event with us.

 

If you have a few extra minutes in your day today, we invite you to experience a recap of Isabel's adoption and first year of grafting into our family.

 

We thank God for her--for preserving her life, for allowing us to be a part of her story, and for the chance to love her and be loved by her.

 

 

 

 

I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart;

I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.
I will be glad and exult in you;
I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.

Psalm 9:1-3

 

Praise the Lord with us.

 

 

Adoption: What Difference Does it Make?

The answer to this question might seem pretty obvious.

A child from outside a family becomes a part of a family.  Forever. 

The circumstances from which that child comes can vary immensely from one child to another.  The essence, however, is the same in every case: the presence of both extreme loss and need.  Loss of a birth family.  Need for a stable, secure, loving, and warm forever family.

So the impact of adoption on the adopted child seems, clearly, good.  Very good. 

Many people advocate for children who need families, many people advocate for the cause of adoption and encourage other families to consider bringing these precious children into stable, loving homes.  And I heartily encourage all of us to stretch our thinking, evaluate our families, and prayerfully consider this avenue for sharing our love, our home, our resources, our energy, our very lives with those who desperately need it.

But what I really want to talk about in this blog post is not the difference that adoption makes for the adopted child.

(Hope you don't stop reading here...)

What I DO want to highlight is the difference it makes to the adoptive family.

My, oh, my, where to start?

When we began our first adoption journey over 5 years ago, I knew we would be blessed by the addition of a child.  I knew we could make a difference to that child.  But I had no idea how our adoptions would completely transform me, transform my marriage, transform each of my children, expand my thinking, and--most of all--thoroughly enrich my understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

A major component of this transformation, however, has also involved loss and need.  Not for our new child, but for the rest of us, for me.

Loss...of self-centered thinking. 
Need...for extra measures of patience and grace.

Loss...of protective control over more of "my" time.
Need...to recognize that time is God's gift to be invested in those most needful of it.

Loss...of dignity when a new child acts in ways that are less-than-desirable, especially in public.
Need...to give grace to said child and to any other parent seen in public struggling with behaviorally challenging children.

Loss...of any semblance of prideful self-sufficiency.
Need...to humbly ask for help when needed and accept it when graciously offered.

Loss...of control over the health and welfare of my children when facing serious medical trials. Need...to place my trust firmly in The Lord--whose ways are higher than my ways and who is able to do immeasurably more than I can ask or imagine.

Loss...of fears that I'm failing at this task of parenting, compounded with each additional child.
Need...to recognize that success and failure in parenting is not measurable except to judge the state of my heart as I nurture and love.

There is now a richness to our family that would never have developed without the miracle of adoption.

• A husband and wife who face each other wide-eyed in awe of the responsiblity before them, yet strong in the knowledge that they're in this together, standing on a firm foundation that is bigger than either or both of them.
• A wife who sees in her husband a previously unnoticed tenderness and a generous heart willing to stretch his love.
• Older children who have taken on a new level of maturity in selflessly looking to the needs of younger siblings.
• A teenaged son who steps away from video games occasionally because he loves to make his littlest sisters giggle and shriek.
• A pre-teen daughter who has learned to open her heart, bucking her inwardly-focused nature. 
• A family where dual language sentences are common and we have twice as many reasons to laugh at silly verbal expressions.
• A mother whose grasp of the depth of God's love has deepened by considering the unfathomable gospel of Jesus Christ--that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us, so that we might be adopted as God's children.

Adoption. It is good. The difference it makes is immeasurable.

One Year Ago...

...Tom and I were in China, getting ready to meet Isabel for the first time. 

I'm doing much thinking these days about the difference adoption makes. 

Feeling a blog post coming in.

Be forewarned.

Happy Chinese New Year!

新年快乐！

Christmas is not Over

Yesterday I began to take down the Christmas decorations around our house.  I lugged all the storage boxes out of the basement, took ornaments off of the tree and put them carefully in their own little boxes, unwrapped the strings of lights from the dry tree branches, took down the stockings from the dusty mantle, emptied the centerpiece bowls of the colorful little glass ball ornaments that had filled them, and stacked all the Christmas dishes on the dining room table ready to be put back into storage until next Christmas.  I have yet to tackle the greenery and lights on the outside of the house.  And the dry, brittle tree still stands, naked and dark, in my sunroom, waiting to be dragged to the curb.

Most years we get our tree up in early December and the undecorating takes place fairly close to the first of January.  This year, however, the pace of life prevented us from getting the tree up and decorated until the 23rd of December.  It felt like we had just gotten done decorating, and already it was time to take it down.

The process of decorating is fun and festive, with lively Christmas music, little helpers, and sometimes even hot cocoa and cookies.  There is a sense of excitement and anticipation. 

Un-decorating, however, has something bittersweet about it.  Some years I am ready to get the dry pine needles out of my house and off of my carpet, ready to have more counterspace with less clutter from containers of cookies and extra dishes, ready to have my house freshened up for whatever a new year might bring.  And some years--this year--the undecorating seems a little depressing, like that feeling as a kid when you realize you just opened your last present.  It feels like something exciting has *ended* and is *over*.

And yet, when I paused recently to reflect on this feeling, the obvious dawned on me: Christmas is never over.  Christmas is every day.

While the decorations may be taken down to sit in a dark rubbermaid bin in the part of my basement that I have dubbed "the dungeon," the truth is that, despite the best efforts of our world prompted by the enemy of our souls, Christmas--the gift of Emanuel, God with us--can not be "put away." 

Each day, because of Christmas--because Jesus gave up any trappings of His deity, came to earth as a humble little naked infant, lived a perfect life, died the horrific death that all along, in love, God had planned, and then, by God's awesome power and might, rose from the grave victorious over sin and death, reconciling us to our holy God--those who have embraced Jesus as Lord can experience life abundant.

Each day--the days that hold joys and triumphs and laughter--we receive undeserved abundant blessings because of Christmas, because he allows us to live as beloved children of God rather than as the enemies of God that, left in our natural state, we were.

Each day--the days that hold sorrows unforeseen, tragedies that suffocate, disappointments and failures and brokenness and heartache and hurt--we can trust that because of Christmas, our forever home is a place far different from here and now.  We can trust that hard circumstances have purposes that are for our good and His glory.  We can even acknowledge that sometimes the greatest gift is the hardest trial, because it draws us into--and ultimately helps us become more like--Him.

Because of Christmas, because God loved the world enough to send His son, we can view our world as temporal yet--as God's amazing creation--still worthy of our attention and time and input and dominion.  We can view the affairs of man--the interaction among nations, the wars and conflicts and negotiations, the politics and debates--as under God's sovereign hand yet lovingly delegated to the authority of man.  We can view other people as God's precious creatures worthy of love and respect. 

Because of Christmas--and the chance to see what a perfect man, who lived perfectly in harmony with God the Father, chose to do with his time, his energy, his gifts, his words, and the people with whom He engaged--we can strive to live in a way that is countercultural and--truth be told--unnatural, with humility and grace and love.  We can choose to serve freely--without thought of what we receive in return.  We can choose to speak words that are kind and gracious when a situation might seem--to our sinful hearts--to justify harshness.   We can choose to put up with little annoyances that come from living with other sinners without a critical word or hard heart, but instead offer prayers of gratitude for companionship and the gift of family.  We can choose to pour ourselves out even for the most unlovable in our lives with the same love and power that held Jesus on that rough cross. 

So, while December 25th has passed, the Christmas clearance sales are all picked over, and the decorations all packed up, still the awesome, miraculous results of the first Christmas endure.

Blessed Christmas to each of us today and everyday.     

VEPTR Expansion #3 and Thanksgiving Wrap Up

Lilly successfully underwent her third VEPTR expansion surgery on Tuesday the 20th this week.  She and I drove to Philly from VA on Sunday afternoon--stopping briefly to visit with Justin, Lita, Joshuan, Abby, Delaney, and Elly on our way north--checked into the Sheraton University City Hotel that evening ( no rooom at the Ronald McDonald House, unfortunately).

Monday was our usual pre-op day with a clinic visit with Dr. Campbell, X-rays, lab work, and a screening visit at the anesthesia resource center.  Different this time was an additional clinic visit with Dr. Carrigan to follow up on LIlly's weakness and lack of flexibility in her right hand that we discovered over the summer. Dr. Carrigan is a hand surgeon who works with Dr. Campbell and he had recommended the EMG test Lilly undewent in October.  Dr. Carrigan was happy with the treatment Lilly has been receiving for her hand in her OT visits, and will followup in 6-12 months to make sure things are still looking good.  Overall, the day went smoothly, and Lilly and I were done in time for a late lunch in the cafeteria and an afternoon at the Please Touch Museum, an awesome children's museum just a few miles from CHOP.

We indulged in Chinese food for dinner and did homework in our hotel room before proceeding with our usual pre-op bath and wip down with the special antimicrobial wipes thay provide for us each surgery.    Our show time for Tuesday wasn't until 1pm, so we made plans to spend the morning doing school work, sipping apple juice, watching movies on the iPad while Mommy exercised in the fitness room, sipping more apple juice, and then walking to downtown Philly to a Barnes and Noble bookstore to see Nana's new book, Agenda 21, on the shelves for the first time.  We bought a copy for Dr. Campbell as well.  How exciting!  Then we walked back to the University/Hospital district of town just in time to get our car from the hotel and get ourselves to Surgery Reception at CHOP.

I was excited to meet another VEPTR mommy in the pre op area--we had "met" on the VEPTR family Facebook page and her daughter has been at CHOP for about 10 days due to an ongoing infection.

Our wait was smooth and pretty speedy, and by 3:15 Lilly and I were headed back to the OR where I was again allowed to "suit up"and hold her while she breathed the gas from the ask to help her drift off to la la land.  Lilly comments contstantly that the surgery seems so very fast to her because she ggoes to sleep and as soon as she wakes up, it's over!  Not quite as fast for mama, but this time actually was pretty speedy.

I got to finish reading Agenda 21 in the waiting room--a wonderful distraction from the business of waiting--and Tom and my other 3 kids arrived just as I was finishing up the book.

Lilly woke up ravenous and spunky.  She devoured everyone else's dinner since the hospital didn't uet show her in the system and we couldn't order her a dinner tray.  She was happy to see her siblings and was feeling pretty good--other than being itchy from the morphine--thanks to good pain meds.

After Tom and the other kids departed to finish their drive north to Grammy's house, our night was spotty--hospitals simply aren't a place to get good sleep.  She was itchy and had tummy aches.  The next morning we dealt with nausea and pain and continued hives and itchiness.  She wanted to go for walks and play in the play room, but her nausea made both of those things short-lived.   We were thankful for the zofran the resident ordered for her, and by 3:00pm, we were discharged and ready to do battle with Thanksgiving traffic to get to Grammy';s house.

The drive, usually a little over an hour, was closer to 2 hours, but we made it.

So good to be in a place where I could rest and decompress.  LIlly quickly settled into playing with Isabel and her cousins Peter and Naomi, and it felt good to be with family.

Our Thanksgiving was wonderful--as always lots of delicious food and many many people with whom to share it.

Yesterday, we enjoyed a beautiful day to get out an dhike at a local park called "ringing rocks" where the rocks make beautiful tones when struck with a hammer.  We had more good food with a few of Tom's siblings' families who weren't present for Thanksgiving dinner.

Later today, we'll pack up and head home.  I know Lilly and I are both ready to get into our own space and our own beds.

I am ever so thankful for the wonderful care that LIlly receives at CHOp, for the love and care of family, and for the grace of God that washes me afresh each day.

Lord, Deliver me from my Irritability

This morning, the sound of my 6-year-old virtual twin girls giggling in the back of the car on our way to our weekly occupational therapy (OT) appointment was a welcome reminder of the joy of family, the blessing of two little girls from the same heritage getting to grow up as best friends and sisters forever.

Our morning had gotten off to a rough start and my mood had been sour--initially irritated by childish behavior--and then deflated as I steeped in the guilt of allowing my irritation to turn to harsh words.

You see, we have been spending two hours each week doing OT--Lilly for some issues with lack of flexibility and weakness in her right hand, Isabel for her deficits in gross motor and visual motor coordination.  This chunk of time in our week has been a sort of mixed blessing to me. 

• The services the girls have received is top notch and the results--especially for Isabel--have been astounding.  She is making wonderful progress in so many areas.  Their occupational therapist is wonderful, thorough, caring, and knowledgable. 
• But (as you might have gleaned from my previous post), time has been my most treasured commodity in recent months and these many Thursday mornings spent sitting on a hard chair in the OT waiting room has felt like an unjust imposition on my selfish heart.  Each Thursday I find myself feeling annoyed that I don't have a morning to just stay home, catch up on housework, and drink an extra cup of coffee.

So, this morning as I drove, I was wallowing in mommy guilt for having raised my voice at Isabel as we got ready to get out the door.  She had come to me, as she often does, to ask whether she had gotten her shoes onto the right feet.  This is something she almost never got right when she first came home from China.  These days, nearly 9 months later, she gets it right about 75-80 percent of the time. 

When she doesn't get it right, however, she dissolves into a pitiful floppy puddle of whines and moans on the floor.  The fact that the shoes are on the wrong feet might baffle me, but it doesn't upset me.  It's the whining and stomping and sudden physical limpness that does. 

And this morning, I got annoyed.  My voice was not pleasant.  OK, I admit it.  I sounded REALLY mean.  Poor Isabel just froze, then cried harder.  Lilly, on her way down the stairs to the front door, stopped, stunned, to quietly peer through the banister at me.

Just moments before this incident, the girls and I had been sitting together over breakfast reading about Moses receiving the ten commandments. We had looked at the passage in Galatians 3 that discusses our captivity under the law and the hopelessness without Christ. Our little devotional had encouraged us to confess our sins--and I had led out in prayer as an example to the girls by asking God's forgiveness for those times that I get impatient or irritated with my children and speak words that are not kind.

And then this.  I immediately sought Isabel's forgiveness for speaking harshly. She granted it freely through her snotty tears. 

I am in need of better strategies to guide Isabel to successful independent dressing. 

I am in even greater need of better strategies to help me with mommy irritability.

Above all, I am in desperate need of grace.  Both showing it, and receiving it.  And the transforming power of the Holy Spirit in my heart.

 Moments after Isabel had granted forgiveness and we had finished getting the shoes on the right feet, Lilly felt compelled to chime in "but Mom, you just prayed about that. And you still yelled."

Yes, my sweet child, I did.

Praise the Lord that He gives grace feely and shows what it looks like so clearly through His laying down of His life.  He doesn't yell harshly at me when I mess up. 

May I give it as freely, laying down my frequently unrealistic and selfish expectations more often.  And may I receive it more freely when I stumble.

Above all, may my children learn more from how I recover from my mistakes than they would from any attempt at perfection.

Life Undone.

This blog post has been rolling around in my brain for several weeks now.

Lately, weeks can go by with such speed that I sometimes find myself bewildered at what month it has already become. 

Indeed, I cannot believe that my last blog post was nearly two months ago.

(In case you've been hanging and wondering about Lilly's infection all this time--my apologies, since that was the last thing about which I blogged--she's doing fine...infection free after a month of antibiotics.  God is gracious and merciful.)

And hence, the reason for the title tonight.

So much.  So fast. 

EmailCarpoolsCalendarsHomeworkMealsGroceriesMedicalAuthorizationsEducationalConsultationsLaundryVacuumingPianoLessonsTidyingDishesDrivingPracticeWalkingDogRefuelingCarWipingCountersMoppingFloorsScrubbingToiletsExercisingDoingBibleStudyPhoneCallsMedicalAppointmentsOTAppointmentsDentalAppointmentsSwimTeamBandPracticeChurchChineseSchool....andit'sMondayagainalready?

I have always been the kind of person who likes things to be in order.  When I was little, I used to get so upset by my brothers (much to their delight) when they would sneak into my room and ever-so-slightly shift the positions of my little Holly Hobbie radio and my little porcelain kitten alarm clock (before the days of clock-radios, before the days of digital clocks, and WAY before the days of cell phone alarms) that I had so perfectly aligned on my night stand.  I used to pack my school book bag the night before and have my clothes laid out for the next morning.  I used to have to-do lists that always got completed and enjoyed the sense of accomplishment and relief when things were *finished* and I could simply relax and do something just for fun. 

Order, control, and completion are things I have had to surrender in this current season of life.  Surrender does not come easily to me.  It is part of my pride complex--self-sufficiency, capability, organization, achievement--all things that I have historically allowed to sort of define me and give me confidence and a sense of self-satisfaction.  Surrender, for me, was the enemy--a mark of failure.

Surrender, however, I must.  Despite my 4am alarm clock, my detailed calendar and to-do list, and my best intentions, I am met at the end of each day, bleary-eyed, with life undone:

Dishes still dirty (or at least clean ones not yet put away).

Laundry un-finished (we'd have to all go naked all day for that to ever really happen.)

Those 10 extra pounds un-lost=clothing unflattering, uncomfortable.

House-cleaning incomplete. (again, we'd have to all move out).

Books stacked on the night stand un-read (most ironic thing ever--one of those books is entitled "Margin" and discusses the need for white space in our lives).

Emails unread or un-addressed.

Correspondence unsent.

Phone calls not made.

Even worse:

Conversation with my man unfinished.

Prayers unthoughtful.

Thoughts unclear.

Emotions uneasy.

Spirit unrefreshed.

All of this is not to somehow say that I am ok with things being undone, that surrender means giving up my goals, that having order in our home and our family life and in my soul is not a worthwhile pursuit.  By all means it is and I will continue to press on toward that end. 

What it does translate into, however, is this: Instead of *self* satisfaction in what I am able to complete and accomplish, I am learning to find *satisfaction* in God alone.  I am learning that it can be well with my soul even when life is somewhat undone.

I am learning to seek discernment early in the morning for the day's priorities so that, at days' end, the  things that are undone are the unimportant. 

 Bless the LORD, O my soul,
  and all that is within me,
  bless his holy name!
 Bless the LORD, O my soul,
  and forget not all his benefits,
 who forgives all your iniquity,
  who heals all your diseases,
 who redeems your life from the pit,
  who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
 who satisfies you with good
  so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.
(Psalm 103:1-5 ESV)