But for now, Wes has been busy working on videos of our trip. There are two. One of the trip to Ethiopia in general, and one of the experience of meeting our son. I think they speak for themselves. Toady I will post our Meetcha video. Enjoy. :)
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Meetcha Day
Well, as most of our friends know, we have been to Ethiopia and back! We appeared in court on July 3, and Jackson Dechasa Kirk is officially our son. We did not get to bring him home on this trip. We will return to Ethiopia in approximately 4 weeks to bring him back to the United States. There are emotions on top of emotions that we are still processing. I want to speak more about our time in Ethiopia as soon as we've had the chance to really process all that we saw and experienced.
But for now, Wes has been busy working on videos of our trip. There are two. One of the trip to Ethiopia in general, and one of the experience of meeting our son. I think they speak for themselves. Toady I will post our Meetcha video. Enjoy. :)
But for now, Wes has been busy working on videos of our trip. There are two. One of the trip to Ethiopia in general, and one of the experience of meeting our son. I think they speak for themselves. Toady I will post our Meetcha video. Enjoy. :)
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Cottonwoods
Most of my adoption updates go onto Facebook. Life has been throwing a lot of labor intensive curve balls lately, and I haven't had time or energy to do much writing. But since I do have some dear friends who are not on Facebook (lookin' at you, Niks), I'll try to get a little update onto the blog.
We were submitted to court in early May, and we've successfully completed our first Ethiopian court date! This is the hearing where either the birth parent/family or finder would appear in the Ethiopian courts. On May 30, this occurred, and all those who needed to be there were present. Some of you prayed with us on that night, and we are so grateful for your love and support.
Our next step is to get final approval from MOWA (the social services agency in Ethiopia) who will provide "comments" for our case. Once positive comments are provided, we will be scheduled for an adoptive parent court date. This means that we will FINALLY get to travel to Ethiopia and meet our son. We will appear in court, and if all goes well, the judge will sign a decree and the little man with the big dimples will officially be a part of our family.
What is our timeline for travel, you ask? Good question. Currently there doesn't seem to be a common timeline. Some families are getting stuck for weeks or months at this point. And others seems to be sliding right through with travel times about a month out from their first court dates. Either way, we will likely only have a couple of weeks notice, or less, before we travel. We hope and pray that we will hear something this week. It's certainly possible.
Unfortunately, we don't get to bring him home on this trip. We will come back home for about a month while his new birth certificate and passport are generated. We'll then return for an appointment to the US embassy in Ethiopia for a visa, and then we get to bring our boy home.
Sound complicated? Lord have mercy, it is. Trying to understand this process start to finish has commandeered the majority of my brain cells for 4 plus years. And the rules change. And when you've got them down they change again.
Me? I'm just anxious to get this kid home. I have a one track mind.
Wes: What do you want to do tonight?
Me: The only thing in the world I want to do tonight is go to Ethiopia.
Wes: Where do you want to go tonight?
Me: The only place in the world I want to go right now is Ethiopia.
Wes: What do you want to eat tonight?
Me: Ethiopian food. In Ethiopia.
When we started this process in 2010, we were told it would be an 18 month ordeal. Now 4 years later, making any sort of timeline seems almost silly. However, I do have the habit of setting short term goals for the length of time that ideally (and realistically) any particular step might take. But dates on a calendar seem now arbitrary and cold. Our adoption certainly hasn't flowed that way. Specific dates have been mostly meaningless. "Next week," they tell us, "Soon."
So a few months ago, toward the beginnings of spring, as the leaves were just coming onto the trees, I went outside and pointed to the tall Cottonwood in our backyard. "Before the cotton is off that tree, God," I prayed, "Let us know about our travel date before the cotton is off that tree."
The cotton really began to fly the week of our first court date. And because the cotton has to COME off the tree before it can BE off the tree, I was so excited about it. It felt like wheels in motion as the first layer of cotton covered our lives, swirling and twirling into heaps of white.
God's promises floating down in airy wisps. Covering us. Covering everything in layers of his grace like summer snow. Soft and insistent.
"I am here, I am working," He whispered in the gently falling seeds of promise.
"See the movement? I am moving. I AM movement," He spoke into the dancing heart-shaped leaves and fluttering cotton.
"Do you see the promise? The potential in that tiny seed? Can you see how I make vast bountiful trees out of tiny specs of potential? Anemic hopes into dreams fulfilled?"
And we spent afternoons in a hammock getting covered in the stuff. Like grace falling. I couldn't keep it off of me if I wanted to! Fat fluffy piles of God's promises covering our little world.
This week the cotton is nearly gone from our tree. A few stubborn pods remain, but with summer storms in the forecast, I don't think that they will be there long. I don't know if we will get our travel date like I'd hoped before the last wisp of cotton blows off that tree. But I do know that God continues to teach me in the longings, in the wantings, and in the achings.
And He me sends me His love on the breeze of a cottonwood.
We were submitted to court in early May, and we've successfully completed our first Ethiopian court date! This is the hearing where either the birth parent/family or finder would appear in the Ethiopian courts. On May 30, this occurred, and all those who needed to be there were present. Some of you prayed with us on that night, and we are so grateful for your love and support.
Our next step is to get final approval from MOWA (the social services agency in Ethiopia) who will provide "comments" for our case. Once positive comments are provided, we will be scheduled for an adoptive parent court date. This means that we will FINALLY get to travel to Ethiopia and meet our son. We will appear in court, and if all goes well, the judge will sign a decree and the little man with the big dimples will officially be a part of our family.
What is our timeline for travel, you ask? Good question. Currently there doesn't seem to be a common timeline. Some families are getting stuck for weeks or months at this point. And others seems to be sliding right through with travel times about a month out from their first court dates. Either way, we will likely only have a couple of weeks notice, or less, before we travel. We hope and pray that we will hear something this week. It's certainly possible.
Unfortunately, we don't get to bring him home on this trip. We will come back home for about a month while his new birth certificate and passport are generated. We'll then return for an appointment to the US embassy in Ethiopia for a visa, and then we get to bring our boy home.
Sound complicated? Lord have mercy, it is. Trying to understand this process start to finish has commandeered the majority of my brain cells for 4 plus years. And the rules change. And when you've got them down they change again.
Me? I'm just anxious to get this kid home. I have a one track mind.
Wes: What do you want to do tonight?
Me: The only thing in the world I want to do tonight is go to Ethiopia.
Wes: Where do you want to go tonight?
Me: The only place in the world I want to go right now is Ethiopia.
Wes: What do you want to eat tonight?
Me: Ethiopian food. In Ethiopia.
When we started this process in 2010, we were told it would be an 18 month ordeal. Now 4 years later, making any sort of timeline seems almost silly. However, I do have the habit of setting short term goals for the length of time that ideally (and realistically) any particular step might take. But dates on a calendar seem now arbitrary and cold. Our adoption certainly hasn't flowed that way. Specific dates have been mostly meaningless. "Next week," they tell us, "Soon."
So a few months ago, toward the beginnings of spring, as the leaves were just coming onto the trees, I went outside and pointed to the tall Cottonwood in our backyard. "Before the cotton is off that tree, God," I prayed, "Let us know about our travel date before the cotton is off that tree."
The cotton really began to fly the week of our first court date. And because the cotton has to COME off the tree before it can BE off the tree, I was so excited about it. It felt like wheels in motion as the first layer of cotton covered our lives, swirling and twirling into heaps of white.
God's promises floating down in airy wisps. Covering us. Covering everything in layers of his grace like summer snow. Soft and insistent.
"I am here, I am working," He whispered in the gently falling seeds of promise.
"See the movement? I am moving. I AM movement," He spoke into the dancing heart-shaped leaves and fluttering cotton.
"Do you see the promise? The potential in that tiny seed? Can you see how I make vast bountiful trees out of tiny specs of potential? Anemic hopes into dreams fulfilled?"
And we spent afternoons in a hammock getting covered in the stuff. Like grace falling. I couldn't keep it off of me if I wanted to! Fat fluffy piles of God's promises covering our little world.
This week the cotton is nearly gone from our tree. A few stubborn pods remain, but with summer storms in the forecast, I don't think that they will be there long. I don't know if we will get our travel date like I'd hoped before the last wisp of cotton blows off that tree. But I do know that God continues to teach me in the longings, in the wantings, and in the achings.
And He me sends me His love on the breeze of a cottonwood.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Adoption Update
Good news! We are PAIR approved! Yay! It took us a little under 3 months to complete this process. This means that the US has done their investigation of our case and the circumstances surrounding our son's arrival in the orphanage and gave us a favorable ruling. Our country is behind our adoption! :) So at this point our dossier is being submitted to the Ethiopian courts. They will do their own investigation and then we will be assigned a court date.
I've been inundated with friends and families who stopped me to say "Wow! Good news! You passed PAIR! We're so excited for you! ....but what the heck does all that mean?"
Even Jena, when I told her the news, said "do we get to bring him home now?" Well, no. Not yet. But we are one step closer.
For those of you who don't eat sleep and breathe Ethiopian adoption process/law like I do, and for those who are weighing their options about whether or not to begin this journey, let me give you a brief (ish) rundown of the overall process.
Here is the process as it stands today:
1. Application - You've decided to adopt! You fill out the application and submit your application fees.
2. The Paper Chase (Home Study and Dossier)- This involves putting into paper format virtually every aspect of your life. Financial, medical, psychological, employment, history, parenting style, insurance, criminal history etc. You'll be fingerprinted several times in this process. This usually takes families around 6 months, but it's highly variable. It took us 6 months the first time, 1 month the second time. By the second time I'd discovered my gift for adoption paperwork. :)
3. Dossier logged in Ethiopia (The long wait) - At this point your paperwork has been completed, notarized, and authenticated on state, and federal levels. It's also been translated into Amharic. This is where the long wait for a referral begins. Families typically wait a 1-3 years to be matched with a child (referral).
4. Referral! - This is the most exciting day. You've been matched with a child at last.
5. PAIR submission - You child's paperwork is submitted along with your home study to USCIS (Immigration) for review.
6. Embassy Interview - The US embassy in Addis Ababa Ethiopia conducts an independent investigation of the circumstances of your child's arrival into the orphanage. This involves either a birth parent or finder interview. This is an ethics review to be certain the child is a true orphan.
When this is completed the PAIR letter is issued by the US govt stating that they believe the child is a true orphan and that the family is eligible to adopt.
7. Ethiopian Court Submission - This begins first with Ethiopia's ethics investigation into the circumstances of the child being given up. This involves another interview with the birth parent or finder.
8. Adoptive Family Court Date - You get to travel to see your child at last! You will appear in Ethiopian court before the judge. If all goes well, this child is officially yours! Sadly, they must be issued an US visa before you can actually bring them home. Since this requires several weeks, you must leave your child in Ethiopia, and travel back a few weeks or months later to bring them home.
9. Embassy Appointment - Last step before you bring your child home. After you travel back for the embassy appointment, your little one can finally travel home to the US.
This process is always changing and evolving. (Which is probably a good thing, even though it can be frustrating at times.) Which means my synopsis won't be accurate for long.
SO! As you can see from my list, we are getting closer to travelling. We know as well as anyone, that you can get stuck at any point, waiting weeks for what seems a very small thing. So it's really hard to produce timelines. But we are praying boldly and going in confidently believing that we will travel in early summer. Until then, we celebrate our little victories and continue to dream of the day we get to meet our son.
SO! As you can see from my list, we are getting closer to travelling. We know as well as anyone, that you can get stuck at any point, waiting weeks for what seems a very small thing. So it's really hard to produce timelines. But we are praying boldly and going in confidently believing that we will travel in early summer. Until then, we celebrate our little victories and continue to dream of the day we get to meet our son.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
The Letting Go
There is a tree outside my window...
This tree that shares our space, she's holding on.
In the years we've lived near her, she has always been reluctant to let go. It is a component of her essential nature, this predilection to the holding on. She is tenacious. She is consistently the last of the 16 trees in the yard to surrender her leaves.
But eventually
with time and some providential coaxing from the wind, come some cold December day, one by one they drop. She bids the dead foliage of yesterday goodbye.
Bare the rest of the winter, she appears desolate, depleted to the naked eye.
But reader, that is only to the casual observer.
Because what she's actually doing is creating space for life. Creating space for growth. For movement.
Because, without fail, buds emerge. New leaves come. New vitality.
The letting go is the beginning of life. The letting go IS life.
But this year the tree resolved not to let go.
Gripping tightly to brown deadened leaves, she held on through snow storms.
Through sub zero temperatures.
Through wind.
Through icy rain.
She refused to let go of the dreams of a foregone summer. A season long gone and long forgotten by her cohorts who have already released it's invention.
Soon the tree will have to make a choice.
You see, spring is upon us. New buds are already forming, the promise of something new.
In order to make space for the new, she will have to let go of the old.
There is no room to do both the holding on and the letting go.
It can't be done. She must let go.
But what if she didn't? What if she decided that the specter of last summer must be preserved? What if she refused to release it? What would happen to the something new, forming even now as tiny buds on her branches?
The something new would die.
She would die, still clutching the dead leaves of yesterday.
Because there is not space to do the holding on and the letting go.
What will become of her, do you think, this tree who clings so tightly to what's been lost?
Will she let go?
Will she embrace the something new?
Will she drop the dead leaves of the past so that she can grow something better?
Let me tell you, friends. I think she will.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Referral (Take 2)
What? An actual post with adoption news? We have adoption news? Actual GOOD new? Why yes, yes we do. :)
We are happy to announce that a few weeks ago we accepted a referral for a 6 month old little boy from Ethiopia. Of course, I can't post pictures here until we've passed court. But let me tell you, friends, there are dimples involved. :) Just. Wow. Ridiculously cute.
We received our referral the day after my mother's surgery to remove a pituitary tumor. I was spending the day in the surgical ICU with her when I got the call. We opened our referral in the ICU waiting room at the hospital. (We couldn't do it in the actual ICU because kids aren't allowed in there and we wanted Jena to be present when we opened it.) My brother was in town for my mom's surgery so he was able to record it all for us, which was special. And my sweet mother, in a lot of pain and discomfort after major surgery, was still able to "ooo" and "aww" at the precious little boy's face when I ran back into the ICU to show her. :) It was, like many of our experiences, imperfectly perfect. And imperfectly perfect is what we do best.
There is a new game afoot in the Ethiopian adoption process. They call it the PAIR process. This essentially reverses the order in which documents move through the system. (USCIS/embassy investigation first, then the Ethiopian courts.) We are among the first families to attempt the PAIR process. Therefore, no one really knows exactly what to expect as far as timelines. Early estimates increased the wait time dramatically. But recently it's looked a bit more hopeful. We are submitting our PAIR documents today. The first big step! After that will be the birth parent or finder court date. Then our adoptive parent court date when we will travel to Ethiopia see our little guy and appear in Ethiopian courts. Last up is a second trip to Ethiopia to visit the US embassy and to bring him home. So as you can see, we still have a lot of big hurdles. We are likely still months away from our first trip. But as always, we're hopeful.
Some of you may be wondering what happened with the referral we've been waiting on for over a year. Nothing happened with that referral...and that's the problem. If you'll recall, we initially received two referrals. We lost the first one 6 months later, you can read about that here. The second one, was a matter of getting local court clearance. This never happened. Our agency lost confidence that this would be completed any time soon, or even that it would be completed at all. We've asked them to let us know if this child ever becomes available for adoption with the release of the local clearance. They've informed us that they don't expect that to happen for a year or years, if at all. But they have agreed to inform us should that occur. Through it all, we do have a peace about losing this child. We continue to pray over him. For his life, for his future, for his daily care. We know his life story isn't over.
For now we're taking it one step at a time, praying that our PAIR documents move smoothly and quickly through our government, allowing for a smooth process through the Ethiopian courts. Feeling blessed and grateful as we move forward, we wait with bated breath on the edge of our seats to see what God will do next.
We are happy to announce that a few weeks ago we accepted a referral for a 6 month old little boy from Ethiopia. Of course, I can't post pictures here until we've passed court. But let me tell you, friends, there are dimples involved. :) Just. Wow. Ridiculously cute.
We received our referral the day after my mother's surgery to remove a pituitary tumor. I was spending the day in the surgical ICU with her when I got the call. We opened our referral in the ICU waiting room at the hospital. (We couldn't do it in the actual ICU because kids aren't allowed in there and we wanted Jena to be present when we opened it.) My brother was in town for my mom's surgery so he was able to record it all for us, which was special. And my sweet mother, in a lot of pain and discomfort after major surgery, was still able to "ooo" and "aww" at the precious little boy's face when I ran back into the ICU to show her. :) It was, like many of our experiences, imperfectly perfect. And imperfectly perfect is what we do best.
There is a new game afoot in the Ethiopian adoption process. They call it the PAIR process. This essentially reverses the order in which documents move through the system. (USCIS/embassy investigation first, then the Ethiopian courts.) We are among the first families to attempt the PAIR process. Therefore, no one really knows exactly what to expect as far as timelines. Early estimates increased the wait time dramatically. But recently it's looked a bit more hopeful. We are submitting our PAIR documents today. The first big step! After that will be the birth parent or finder court date. Then our adoptive parent court date when we will travel to Ethiopia see our little guy and appear in Ethiopian courts. Last up is a second trip to Ethiopia to visit the US embassy and to bring him home. So as you can see, we still have a lot of big hurdles. We are likely still months away from our first trip. But as always, we're hopeful.
Some of you may be wondering what happened with the referral we've been waiting on for over a year. Nothing happened with that referral...and that's the problem. If you'll recall, we initially received two referrals. We lost the first one 6 months later, you can read about that here. The second one, was a matter of getting local court clearance. This never happened. Our agency lost confidence that this would be completed any time soon, or even that it would be completed at all. We've asked them to let us know if this child ever becomes available for adoption with the release of the local clearance. They've informed us that they don't expect that to happen for a year or years, if at all. But they have agreed to inform us should that occur. Through it all, we do have a peace about losing this child. We continue to pray over him. For his life, for his future, for his daily care. We know his life story isn't over.
For now we're taking it one step at a time, praying that our PAIR documents move smoothly and quickly through our government, allowing for a smooth process through the Ethiopian courts. Feeling blessed and grateful as we move forward, we wait with bated breath on the edge of our seats to see what God will do next.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Blessings & Curses
December was a month of things gone wrong. Bad news was being hurtled at us from every direction. Some of it public, some of it private, there were few that knew the extent of what we were dealing with. Just after Christmas, a press conference took place in Ethiopia to address a politician's intent to end all international adoptions in Ethiopia. It was at this point that I looked and Wes and said "OK. I'm really starting to feel picked on."
In a moment of utter frustration I texted a friend to unload on her my "list". It was the list of all the things that had gone wrong, all the fires I was working to put out, all the things that had me pulling my hair out going "enough already!". A few more days went by, and a few more things went wrong. While mentally adding these events to my growing list it occurred to me that I had been so focused on the little disasters...spending so much time taking inventory of the things gone wrong...that I was paying no attention to the things gone right.
So I turned my mental list into a physical list. I wrote it all down. Then I spent some time contemplating each situation, what could have been, and what comes next. And then next to each item, I scribbled down the blessing. In each situation, it was there...something to be thankful for. And to my surprise, there it was...a brand new list! A list of the ways that I had been blessed. What a joy and wonder to discover that in this month where I had felt cursed, what I actually had been....was blessed. When I felt abandoned and forgotten, I was cherished and remembered. When I had felt lost and alone, I was actually found and held. The things I had thought had come into my life in recent weeks to break my heart, were actually there to help heal it. My life like a poorly healed fracture, there were ways that I needed to be broken anew in order to find true healing.
And now in this new year, a time for new beginnings. Moving ahead. Praying for meaningful movement in our adoption. But remembering as we go, the many ways that we have been blessed. That we are loved, and cherished, and remembered, and held. That when we focus so deeply on the curses in our lives, we may actually miss the blessing.
I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live, you and your descendants.
Deuteronomy 30:19
In a moment of utter frustration I texted a friend to unload on her my "list". It was the list of all the things that had gone wrong, all the fires I was working to put out, all the things that had me pulling my hair out going "enough already!". A few more days went by, and a few more things went wrong. While mentally adding these events to my growing list it occurred to me that I had been so focused on the little disasters...spending so much time taking inventory of the things gone wrong...that I was paying no attention to the things gone right.
So I turned my mental list into a physical list. I wrote it all down. Then I spent some time contemplating each situation, what could have been, and what comes next. And then next to each item, I scribbled down the blessing. In each situation, it was there...something to be thankful for. And to my surprise, there it was...a brand new list! A list of the ways that I had been blessed. What a joy and wonder to discover that in this month where I had felt cursed, what I actually had been....was blessed. When I felt abandoned and forgotten, I was cherished and remembered. When I had felt lost and alone, I was actually found and held. The things I had thought had come into my life in recent weeks to break my heart, were actually there to help heal it. My life like a poorly healed fracture, there were ways that I needed to be broken anew in order to find true healing.
And now in this new year, a time for new beginnings. Moving ahead. Praying for meaningful movement in our adoption. But remembering as we go, the many ways that we have been blessed. That we are loved, and cherished, and remembered, and held. That when we focus so deeply on the curses in our lives, we may actually miss the blessing.
I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live, you and your descendants.
Deuteronomy 30:19
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Desert Days
Well, hello there blogosphere. It's been awhile. It is time, I guess, to get back to it. If you could see my unpublished list of blog posts, you would know that I've tried (several times) to write, over the past couple of months. There have been many half completed attempts, some now deleted, some sitting half finished and unpublished. I just couldn't do it, I couldn't finish. I couldn't do it because the very simple and honest truth is that I have been sad. Is it ok to admit that here? I hope so. Sometimes it is easier to admit that you are struggling in retrospect. After you've conquered it and moved on, to say "hey, I was struggling there, but good news! I'm better now!" Maybe I was waiting for that time to come, or maybe I was just operating under the whole "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" principle. I don't know. But either way, I'm working to write now in the hopes that organizing some of this on paper(well...computer screen?) will organize it in my head as well.
Our adoption these days is at a standstill. To recap, we received referrals last November for two little boys, an infant and a 2 year old. We lost the referral for the infant in May. Our adoption of the two-year-old little boy is sadly stuck. He is in need of a document from the local courts. It is a document that they have repeatedly promised to release "next week", but so far have not done so. He is from a particularly difficult region, where these documents are hard to come by. And while we wait on the courts to process this document, he sits and waits in an orphanage, as far as we know, unaware of us or how desperately we want him. This is frustrating, and infuriating, and heartbreaking. The Ethiopian courts are currently closed for the rainy season. They are expected to reopen in early October. We realized this week that all our immigration paperwork on the US side will expire again in February, and that unless things begin to move fairly quickly, we will likely need to redo our paperwork/fingerprinting...again. Sigh. We have been sad, and frustrated, and feeling very much alone. We've spent more than our fair share of time asking "why?". I am on a ferris wheel of emotion that cycles between angry and sad and hopeful and resolved. Then back to angry and they cycle begins once again. I'm starting to realize that's just par for the course at this point, and working to find appropriate channels to funnel the negative emotions through when it is their time to come.
The good news is that in the midst of these dark desert days, there have actually been many moments of grace, and hope, and sparks of pure joy. At times it has been hard to see them through the lens of sadness that darkens and distorts the vibrance of life. But they have most definitely been there. And these are the moments in these dry days of waiting that must be amplified. Because in the silence, in the waiting, still we can know You are good. So in that spirit, here are a few of the highlights of the past several months:
You might remember the twin teenage girls that lived with us this summer. They had graduated from foster care and were in need of a home and some help finding jobs and permanent housing. They spent their summer in our home, working toward these goals. I'm so happy to report that the girls now have their own apartment. They have held jobs these past three months and are working hard to build a home for the baby that one of them is about to give birth to. (Any day now!!) They have come so far. We are crazy proud of them. They still have many challenges ahead, but I'm confident that they will find their way. It is truly exciting to see how God is moving in their lives. They are family now, we love them. We had lunch today at the restaurant where they work. We overheard one of the twins tell another waitress "I'll take that table. That's my family." We love that. And we feel so honored to be a part of their lives.
Here is a proud mama moment of the girls with their keys to their very first apartment on lease-signing day:
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Shortly after we moved the girls into their apartment we went to visit family in New Jersey. We had an amazing time. Jena had missed her cousins like crazy, and the three of them were inseperable throughout the trip. We had the best EVER Ethiopian food in Montclair (Mesob) and saw the sights in NYC.
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We took a little road trip down to Guthrie, Oklahoma to meet up with my brother, Josh, and his wife, Anna, to attend the Gentlemen of the Road Stopover. It was an amazing outdoor music festival in a hayfield in the small town of Guthrie. (While Guthrie has a population of 10,000, there were 30,000 in attendance for GOTR, so the town was pretty much over-run with indie-loving music fanatics.) Like most outdoor music festivals, attendance was a bit of an adventure in and of itself, with a sprinkling of some really great bands mixed in to add to the fun. Anna and I are lovers of indie, so this concert was right up our alley.
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The Stopover was headlined by one of my favorite bands, Mumford & Sons. Their album, Babel, came out about the same time that we received our referrals last November. On it was a song entitled "I will wait". Yeah. Can you think of a more appropriate adoption theme song for us? Jena loves a good kitchen dance party to this song. We have listened to and belted out this song on many occasions during the past 10 months. We've sung it happy, we've sung it sad. I've sung it alone in the car through gritted teeth and tears. And on this night we got to sing it live with the band.
This past weekend we were able to attend an Ethiopian New Year Celebration here in Wichita. They held it downtown at the beautiful Exploration Place. We had a great time with some very kind Ethiopian families, and many of the families from our local Ethiopia adoption group. They had a fashion show of Ethiopian clothing, traditional Ethiopian dancers, and delicious Ethiopian food. It was really great, and really hard all at the same time. I hadn't forseen how difficult it would be to be the only adoptive family there that was still in process. While it was so fun to watch all those little Ethiopians running around, I have to admit that it was also painful. We want our children home. There were some tearful moments in the bathroom. But there were also joyful moments, and in the end I'm glad we went.
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So to finish out my long overdue blog post, I'd like to leave you with a song. It is a song by Mumford & Sons called, The Ghosts that We Knew, that we had the pleasure of hearing live in Guthrie. (You might need to be on a pc to view the video below). This song is very personal to me. It has been one of the most honest prayers of my broken heart these long months of waiting. In those moments where the future seems uncertain, and the clouds of doubt and darkness threaten to block out the joy, there is this: He has promised that We will be alright. And we will, all of us, be alright...
Our adoption these days is at a standstill. To recap, we received referrals last November for two little boys, an infant and a 2 year old. We lost the referral for the infant in May. Our adoption of the two-year-old little boy is sadly stuck. He is in need of a document from the local courts. It is a document that they have repeatedly promised to release "next week", but so far have not done so. He is from a particularly difficult region, where these documents are hard to come by. And while we wait on the courts to process this document, he sits and waits in an orphanage, as far as we know, unaware of us or how desperately we want him. This is frustrating, and infuriating, and heartbreaking. The Ethiopian courts are currently closed for the rainy season. They are expected to reopen in early October. We realized this week that all our immigration paperwork on the US side will expire again in February, and that unless things begin to move fairly quickly, we will likely need to redo our paperwork/fingerprinting...again. Sigh. We have been sad, and frustrated, and feeling very much alone. We've spent more than our fair share of time asking "why?". I am on a ferris wheel of emotion that cycles between angry and sad and hopeful and resolved. Then back to angry and they cycle begins once again. I'm starting to realize that's just par for the course at this point, and working to find appropriate channels to funnel the negative emotions through when it is their time to come.
The good news is that in the midst of these dark desert days, there have actually been many moments of grace, and hope, and sparks of pure joy. At times it has been hard to see them through the lens of sadness that darkens and distorts the vibrance of life. But they have most definitely been there. And these are the moments in these dry days of waiting that must be amplified. Because in the silence, in the waiting, still we can know You are good. So in that spirit, here are a few of the highlights of the past several months:
You might remember the twin teenage girls that lived with us this summer. They had graduated from foster care and were in need of a home and some help finding jobs and permanent housing. They spent their summer in our home, working toward these goals. I'm so happy to report that the girls now have their own apartment. They have held jobs these past three months and are working hard to build a home for the baby that one of them is about to give birth to. (Any day now!!) They have come so far. We are crazy proud of them. They still have many challenges ahead, but I'm confident that they will find their way. It is truly exciting to see how God is moving in their lives. They are family now, we love them. We had lunch today at the restaurant where they work. We overheard one of the twins tell another waitress "I'll take that table. That's my family." We love that. And we feel so honored to be a part of their lives.
Here is a proud mama moment of the girls with their keys to their very first apartment on lease-signing day:
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Shortly after we moved the girls into their apartment we went to visit family in New Jersey. We had an amazing time. Jena had missed her cousins like crazy, and the three of them were inseperable throughout the trip. We had the best EVER Ethiopian food in Montclair (Mesob) and saw the sights in NYC.
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We took a little road trip down to Guthrie, Oklahoma to meet up with my brother, Josh, and his wife, Anna, to attend the Gentlemen of the Road Stopover. It was an amazing outdoor music festival in a hayfield in the small town of Guthrie. (While Guthrie has a population of 10,000, there were 30,000 in attendance for GOTR, so the town was pretty much over-run with indie-loving music fanatics.) Like most outdoor music festivals, attendance was a bit of an adventure in and of itself, with a sprinkling of some really great bands mixed in to add to the fun. Anna and I are lovers of indie, so this concert was right up our alley.
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The Stopover was headlined by one of my favorite bands, Mumford & Sons. Their album, Babel, came out about the same time that we received our referrals last November. On it was a song entitled "I will wait". Yeah. Can you think of a more appropriate adoption theme song for us? Jena loves a good kitchen dance party to this song. We have listened to and belted out this song on many occasions during the past 10 months. We've sung it happy, we've sung it sad. I've sung it alone in the car through gritted teeth and tears. And on this night we got to sing it live with the band.
I will wait
I will wait for you
Here's a sad, shaky little clip of it. Ignore the "Woo's!" I'm blaming those entirely on Anna. :)This past weekend we were able to attend an Ethiopian New Year Celebration here in Wichita. They held it downtown at the beautiful Exploration Place. We had a great time with some very kind Ethiopian families, and many of the families from our local Ethiopia adoption group. They had a fashion show of Ethiopian clothing, traditional Ethiopian dancers, and delicious Ethiopian food. It was really great, and really hard all at the same time. I hadn't forseen how difficult it would be to be the only adoptive family there that was still in process. While it was so fun to watch all those little Ethiopians running around, I have to admit that it was also painful. We want our children home. There were some tearful moments in the bathroom. But there were also joyful moments, and in the end I'm glad we went.
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So to finish out my long overdue blog post, I'd like to leave you with a song. It is a song by Mumford & Sons called, The Ghosts that We Knew, that we had the pleasure of hearing live in Guthrie. (You might need to be on a pc to view the video below). This song is very personal to me. It has been one of the most honest prayers of my broken heart these long months of waiting. In those moments where the future seems uncertain, and the clouds of doubt and darkness threaten to block out the joy, there is this: He has promised that We will be alright. And we will, all of us, be alright...
So give me hope in the darkness, that I will see the light
Cause Oh it gave me such a fright.
And I will hold, as long as you like
Just promise me we'll be alright
Monday, July 15, 2013
Noonday
...and if you spend yourself on the behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the Noonday.
Isaiah 58:10
This past weekend my sweet friend, Nikki, hosted a Noonday trunk show to support our adoption. I've known about Noonday for awhile, it's pretty well known in international adoption circles. In sharing in my journey (and our mutual love of all things Jen Hatmaker) Nikki recently came across it too. We'd both been drooling over their catalog for several weeks when Nikki decided that she wanted to host a trunk show. When she learned that Noonday parties are often used to support adoptions (It's founder is an adoptive mother), she generously changed the focus of the party so that a portion of the proceeds support the Kirk Family adoption. Nikki is my best friend from high school. Ever the Lucy to my Ethel, we've found ourselves in a ridiculous number of very silly escapades. Our husbands regularly eye roll at the things we cook up. She is uniquely and unapologetically "Nikki", there is no one like her, and I love her for that. She is a champion of forgiveness, and a lover of the light. I am better for knowing her.
Holly, myself, & Nikki
There is a mountain range in Ethiopia outside of the capital of Addis Ababa, called the Entoto Mountains. There are streams that flow through these mountains that have long been thought to have healing properties. Individuals with HIV/AIDS have, in desperation, flocked to these streams, outcast from family and friends, in a last ditch effort to achieve restoration and health. A small group of people, recognizing the overwhelming need, created an outreach program in the Entoto mountains. They created social programs to improve access to medications. Through Noonday, they also created a way for these people to have a sustainable income. Now here is the part of the story that I love. They collect artillery shells from the local farmers scattered from old wars and conflicts. They take these shells and melt them down to create beads for beautiful jewelry. Just. Amazing. From the ugliness of war to the beauty of a new life. From the purpose of ending lives to the purpose of extending them through life giving HIV medication. From destruction to salvation. Redemption. Beauty from Ashes.
I purchased a couple of these Ethiopian pieces for myself. They will remind me of the beauty from ashes in my own life, of the miracle of God's redemption, and of the way he's taking this world and making beautiful things out of dust.
You can find out more about Noonday here.
p.s.
On the adoption front, there isn't a lot to report. We are still waiting for our local MOWA letter before we can move forward. Our son is one of many waiting to have MOWA letters released from this area. It is likely that our new infant referral will come from this group of children in the same orphanage in Awassa waiting for their paperwork. So our new referral will probably come at the same time that we hear of progress on our older boy. They continue to say any day now. We've been hearing that for awhile. Friends have been asking me how they can pray more specifically. This week we've been praying that the local MOWA officials' hearts would be burdened with the task of releasing this group of children. That they would feel intensely that it needs to be done. That they would be haunted with urgency until the task is completed. But until then...we continue to wait.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Harvest
It's harvest time in Kansas. Usually we think of harvest and it's metaphors in the fall. But Kansas is wheat country, and around here the big harvest is usually in June. We live what I like to call "country adjacent." Though we live in a suburban neighborhood, the wheat fields are all around us, and I've been trapped behind a slow moving combine plodding down the street in front of me on numerous occasions. It is a part of the culture here. When I worked in a medical clinic in a nearby rural Kansas town,our clinic appointments would come to a stand still during harvest. We'd keep suture kits out and ready, because we'd see plenty of harvest injuries, but not much else. Our local newspaper ran this as the front page story this week. They took photo submissions for collections titled "Wheat Harvests" and "Wheat Harvest Memories". Harvest excitement is palpable.
In the midst of this massive harvest going on around us, these two non-farmers are fumbling around trying desperately to plant some seed. Many of you know that about a month ago we moved two 18 year old young ladies (identical twin sisters) into our home. They had been in foster care and had aged out. Because of a complicated number of issues, they had become homeless, and the place that they had been temporarily staying was no longer appropriate. So we heard their story one day, met them two days later, and they moved in two days after that. Just like that.
How is it going, you ask? Well...
Some days it looks like this:
I feel like I want to be John Stamos in this scenario. Just...don't ask. It might have something to do with that feathered and fabulous hair. :)
(As a side note, you should know that I can sing that entire theme song. Actually, I can sing the theme song to most sitcoms. I am somewhat of a sitcom theme song savant. For real. It's a gift. Want some WKRP in Cinncinati? BOOM...got it. Want some Family Ties? Sang it to my husband yesterday. Want the theme song to the original Bob Newhart show? Well, there aren't words to that, but I can hum it to you. But I digress...) :)
Some days recently it has felt more like this:
I'm obviously Tom Cruise in this scenario. You know...the one hanging on by "a very thin thread."
And in rare but frustrating instances it has looked more like this:
Not sure which one of the nameless fighters I am in the scenario. But I know I'm not Chuck Norris. There's only one Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris doesn't wear a watch. HE decides what time it is. And Chuck Norris died 20 years ago; death just hasn't had the courage to tell him yet. Chuck Norris counted to infinity...twice. Chuck Norris took out two stones with one bird. :) Ok, enough with the Chuck Norris jokes. :)
My point is that the girls aren't perfect. And neither am I. So we fumble through together some times. If I'm not careful, I'm tempted to compare who I was at 18, and the decisions I made at 18, to the girls and their choices. But this is incredibly unfair. Our life experiences to that point were night and day different. A more fair comparison would be to imagine what I would have been like at 18 had I been through what they have. I'm quite sure I would not have fared so well.
On those occasions where they make progress, I'm crazy proud of them. And they ARE making progress. Bonds of trust and friendship are slow to form, but we are finding our way. I try to make a point of telling them that I believe in them, on good days as well as tough days. Because I DO believe in them. And it's important that they know someone does. Every day. No matter what their actions and attitudes are. Before you give me too much credit here, you should also know that my attitude isn't always what it should be. I get frustrated, and anxious, and angry more than I should. But we're all working through it together.
I once read a quote that said,
"You come to find love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly."
We are all sadly imperfect, but working hard to see each other through the eyes of grace.
Farmers will tell you that a wet and messy spring brings about a fruitful summer. Well, my spring was certainly wet and messy, as we lost the referral for a child that we'd spent 7 months thinking was going be ours. But now, as we work to plant our metaphorical seed the best way we know how, we look ahead with excitement to the promise of harvest.
p.s. If you are looking for an adoption update...so are we. Sadly no movement in our case. We are perpetually told "next week". It's going to be done "next week". Always, "next week." Eventually one of these "next weeks" it has to happen, right? I sure hope so.
 |
| photo credit: Kansas Ag Network |
In the midst of this massive harvest going on around us, these two non-farmers are fumbling around trying desperately to plant some seed. Many of you know that about a month ago we moved two 18 year old young ladies (identical twin sisters) into our home. They had been in foster care and had aged out. Because of a complicated number of issues, they had become homeless, and the place that they had been temporarily staying was no longer appropriate. So we heard their story one day, met them two days later, and they moved in two days after that. Just like that.
How is it going, you ask? Well...
Some days it looks like this:
I feel like I want to be John Stamos in this scenario. Just...don't ask. It might have something to do with that feathered and fabulous hair. :)
(As a side note, you should know that I can sing that entire theme song. Actually, I can sing the theme song to most sitcoms. I am somewhat of a sitcom theme song savant. For real. It's a gift. Want some WKRP in Cinncinati? BOOM...got it. Want some Family Ties? Sang it to my husband yesterday. Want the theme song to the original Bob Newhart show? Well, there aren't words to that, but I can hum it to you. But I digress...) :)
Some days recently it has felt more like this:
I'm obviously Tom Cruise in this scenario. You know...the one hanging on by "a very thin thread."
And in rare but frustrating instances it has looked more like this:
Not sure which one of the nameless fighters I am in the scenario. But I know I'm not Chuck Norris. There's only one Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris doesn't wear a watch. HE decides what time it is. And Chuck Norris died 20 years ago; death just hasn't had the courage to tell him yet. Chuck Norris counted to infinity...twice. Chuck Norris took out two stones with one bird. :) Ok, enough with the Chuck Norris jokes. :)
My point is that the girls aren't perfect. And neither am I. So we fumble through together some times. If I'm not careful, I'm tempted to compare who I was at 18, and the decisions I made at 18, to the girls and their choices. But this is incredibly unfair. Our life experiences to that point were night and day different. A more fair comparison would be to imagine what I would have been like at 18 had I been through what they have. I'm quite sure I would not have fared so well.
On those occasions where they make progress, I'm crazy proud of them. And they ARE making progress. Bonds of trust and friendship are slow to form, but we are finding our way. I try to make a point of telling them that I believe in them, on good days as well as tough days. Because I DO believe in them. And it's important that they know someone does. Every day. No matter what their actions and attitudes are. Before you give me too much credit here, you should also know that my attitude isn't always what it should be. I get frustrated, and anxious, and angry more than I should. But we're all working through it together.
I once read a quote that said,
"You come to find love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly."
We are all sadly imperfect, but working hard to see each other through the eyes of grace.
Farmers will tell you that a wet and messy spring brings about a fruitful summer. Well, my spring was certainly wet and messy, as we lost the referral for a child that we'd spent 7 months thinking was going be ours. But now, as we work to plant our metaphorical seed the best way we know how, we look ahead with excitement to the promise of harvest.
p.s. If you are looking for an adoption update...so are we. Sadly no movement in our case. We are perpetually told "next week". It's going to be done "next week". Always, "next week." Eventually one of these "next weeks" it has to happen, right? I sure hope so.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
The hard one to write
I've sat down to write this blog at least four times in the past week. Each time, I've closed it out and walked away. Not for the reasons you might think. This is a sad segment of our adoption journey, and we have a lot of complicated feelings about it. But being overcome with emotion was not the reason. Sometimes you just get worn out by your own drama. Sometimes you get tired of telling the story of one more way things fell apart. The truth is that among the many things I'm feeling right now, the one thing inside my head that's shouting at me the loudest is this: I'm exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, spiritually, even physically, just beat. But since this is an effort to document the good, the bad, the exasperating, of our true story, here it is: The story of how we lost our referral for our infant boy.
We were on our way last week to our first Wichita Ethiopia Families get-together when we stopped to grab some food. I checked my email from my phone as we waited in the drive-through line. (If you've been around me in the past 6 months, you know that I am obsessive about checking my email. This is because updates can come at any time, day or night, and I'm always so anxious for updates.) In my inbox I found an email that said "Updates". When I opened it I was shocked to find an email from our local coordinator, and also the director of the agency letting us know that we had now lost the referral for the younger boy. He was no longer adoptable. (The reasons he is no longer adoptable are another sad story. One we are praying will eventually have a happy ending. I'm not sure if it's appropriate to share those details here.) In my shock I blurted it out to Wes in the seat next to me, not even thinking about the 6 year old little girl behind me in the car, who heard the statement as well. And as Wes and I sat there open-mouthed in a state of shock, it was Jena's heart that immediately began to grieve. The tears came quickly.
And then we didn't know what to do. Do we continue on to this adoption get-together? Meet all these new people for the first time with red eyes and tear stains? Do we bring Jena along in this, or go home and try to re-group? In the end we decided that if there was anyone in the world that would understand our complicated feelings, it was this group of Ethiopia adoption families. There were to be quite a few other kids there, and nothing cheers the heart of an only-child faster than a big group of children. So we continued on, having learned this new information just 10 minutes before we arrived at a party to celebrate Ethiopian adoption. And it was a good decision. Women I barely knew, and some that I had just met, held me and hugged me when I broke down trying to relay the story. There was an understanding that existed there that we wouldn't have gotten anywhere else. And Jena did have a wonderful time. She made many new friends, and was quickly cheered by all the company.
We revisited the subject, briefly, again at bedtime prayers. The tears began to flow once again. She asked us not to take down any of the pictures of him that we have around our house. "I want to be able to remember him", she told us. I'm thankful for her sensitive heart that can so furiously grieve the loss of a brother half a world away, who doesn't look like her, or know she exists, and who, in fact, she's never even met. There will be a time for acceptance, and that time hasn't come yet for her. But grief is a process, and I know it will take her some time.
For Wes and I, I can tell you that the emotion of the ordeal is a lot like the emotion of a miscarriage. It's grieving that unrealized potential. It's being so close to having something, dreaming about it, planning for it, and then watching it all slip right through your fingers. Except that I don't have the closure of a change in my body. With one email, that's it, he's gone.
Our agency plans to eventually provide us with a new infant referral. I think we want that, but it is really hard to wrap our minds around right now. We've spent the past 6 months falling in love with this little boy. He feels irreplaceable. He IS irreplaceable.
Further complicating our feelings is the fact that we don't feel great about the way in which we lost the referral. We know that this child's future is uncertain, and he is a little boy that the three of us will wonder about for the rest of our lives. I've made attempts through a couple of different avenues to see if there is any way that we can help to improve his situation as he remains in Ethiopia, so far with little success. The increased scrutiny on International Adoptions makes any contact on our part with him or his family grey area at best.
So this is where the self-doubt could set in. This entire process has been an uphill battle for us. Nothing so far has fallen perfectly into place. If we aren't careful, we start to wonder if we've misunderstood the calling. Is this what you want from us, God? Why is it so hard? So painful?
In these times of questions, when answers seem scarce the thing that I'm learning will heal me, the thing that seems vital, is to give thanks. Because "Eucharisteo always, always, precedes the miracle." (Thanks Ann.) So in that spirit, here are some things we are thankful for:
First: Because of our ultimately failed attempt to adopt him, this child has spent a good part of his early life in one of the best facilities for orphans in Ethiopia, our agency's foster care. (Seriously, I keep hearing how quality it is, and how amazing the nannies are.) Away from parents, he wouldn't have gotten that kind of care anywhere else.
Next: I'm thankful that this child now has a group of people in America who will be praying for him and thinking about him for years to come. This is a child that Wes, Jena and I will wonder about, think about, and pray for the rest of our lives. In fact, the Kirk/Randels/Eddleman families will continue to think about and pray for this child.
Next: I'm thankful that God can redeem the sad and uncertain parts of this child's future. I'm believing for him that this will happen.
Next: I'm thankful that my daughter has the capacity for a giant kind of love that stretches across continents, and cultures, and colors of skin. I'm thankful that she was so capable of this big love, that she now grieves his loss, as we all do.
Next: I'm thankful for an amazing support system of family, old friends, and new friends. I'm thankful for a well-timed visit from one of my closest friends, the one who understands failed adoptions, and the longing for motherhood...because she's lived it too. I'm thankful for a new friend who is forging this messy uncharted territory of international adoption with me, and the ways that feeling like you aren't doing it alone seems to make such a difference.
Lastly: I'm thankful for the peace that's washing over us. That when friends ask us how we're coping, I can say: "We are processing, but (emphatically) we are ok."
And so giving thanks for these many blessings, we press on.
We were on our way last week to our first Wichita Ethiopia Families get-together when we stopped to grab some food. I checked my email from my phone as we waited in the drive-through line. (If you've been around me in the past 6 months, you know that I am obsessive about checking my email. This is because updates can come at any time, day or night, and I'm always so anxious for updates.) In my inbox I found an email that said "Updates". When I opened it I was shocked to find an email from our local coordinator, and also the director of the agency letting us know that we had now lost the referral for the younger boy. He was no longer adoptable. (The reasons he is no longer adoptable are another sad story. One we are praying will eventually have a happy ending. I'm not sure if it's appropriate to share those details here.) In my shock I blurted it out to Wes in the seat next to me, not even thinking about the 6 year old little girl behind me in the car, who heard the statement as well. And as Wes and I sat there open-mouthed in a state of shock, it was Jena's heart that immediately began to grieve. The tears came quickly.
And then we didn't know what to do. Do we continue on to this adoption get-together? Meet all these new people for the first time with red eyes and tear stains? Do we bring Jena along in this, or go home and try to re-group? In the end we decided that if there was anyone in the world that would understand our complicated feelings, it was this group of Ethiopia adoption families. There were to be quite a few other kids there, and nothing cheers the heart of an only-child faster than a big group of children. So we continued on, having learned this new information just 10 minutes before we arrived at a party to celebrate Ethiopian adoption. And it was a good decision. Women I barely knew, and some that I had just met, held me and hugged me when I broke down trying to relay the story. There was an understanding that existed there that we wouldn't have gotten anywhere else. And Jena did have a wonderful time. She made many new friends, and was quickly cheered by all the company.
We revisited the subject, briefly, again at bedtime prayers. The tears began to flow once again. She asked us not to take down any of the pictures of him that we have around our house. "I want to be able to remember him", she told us. I'm thankful for her sensitive heart that can so furiously grieve the loss of a brother half a world away, who doesn't look like her, or know she exists, and who, in fact, she's never even met. There will be a time for acceptance, and that time hasn't come yet for her. But grief is a process, and I know it will take her some time.
For Wes and I, I can tell you that the emotion of the ordeal is a lot like the emotion of a miscarriage. It's grieving that unrealized potential. It's being so close to having something, dreaming about it, planning for it, and then watching it all slip right through your fingers. Except that I don't have the closure of a change in my body. With one email, that's it, he's gone.
Our agency plans to eventually provide us with a new infant referral. I think we want that, but it is really hard to wrap our minds around right now. We've spent the past 6 months falling in love with this little boy. He feels irreplaceable. He IS irreplaceable.
Further complicating our feelings is the fact that we don't feel great about the way in which we lost the referral. We know that this child's future is uncertain, and he is a little boy that the three of us will wonder about for the rest of our lives. I've made attempts through a couple of different avenues to see if there is any way that we can help to improve his situation as he remains in Ethiopia, so far with little success. The increased scrutiny on International Adoptions makes any contact on our part with him or his family grey area at best.
So this is where the self-doubt could set in. This entire process has been an uphill battle for us. Nothing so far has fallen perfectly into place. If we aren't careful, we start to wonder if we've misunderstood the calling. Is this what you want from us, God? Why is it so hard? So painful?
In these times of questions, when answers seem scarce the thing that I'm learning will heal me, the thing that seems vital, is to give thanks. Because "Eucharisteo always, always, precedes the miracle." (Thanks Ann.) So in that spirit, here are some things we are thankful for:
First: Because of our ultimately failed attempt to adopt him, this child has spent a good part of his early life in one of the best facilities for orphans in Ethiopia, our agency's foster care. (Seriously, I keep hearing how quality it is, and how amazing the nannies are.) Away from parents, he wouldn't have gotten that kind of care anywhere else.
Next: I'm thankful that this child now has a group of people in America who will be praying for him and thinking about him for years to come. This is a child that Wes, Jena and I will wonder about, think about, and pray for the rest of our lives. In fact, the Kirk/Randels/Eddleman families will continue to think about and pray for this child.
Next: I'm thankful that God can redeem the sad and uncertain parts of this child's future. I'm believing for him that this will happen.
Next: I'm thankful that my daughter has the capacity for a giant kind of love that stretches across continents, and cultures, and colors of skin. I'm thankful that she was so capable of this big love, that she now grieves his loss, as we all do.
Next: I'm thankful for an amazing support system of family, old friends, and new friends. I'm thankful for a well-timed visit from one of my closest friends, the one who understands failed adoptions, and the longing for motherhood...because she's lived it too. I'm thankful for a new friend who is forging this messy uncharted territory of international adoption with me, and the ways that feeling like you aren't doing it alone seems to make such a difference.
Lastly: I'm thankful for the peace that's washing over us. That when friends ask us how we're coping, I can say: "We are processing, but (emphatically) we are ok."
And so giving thanks for these many blessings, we press on.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Watch your back, Spielberg
We had a great time hosting the showing of the documentary "Stuck" this weekend. Some great friends and family came out and gave up their Friday night to watch it. We are well aware that most who came were there as a sign of support and solidarity to us personally, and we just can't tell you how much that means to us. Before the showing of the film, we played this little mini-movie about us which we made this week. It tells a little of our story. My public, (i.e. my grandma) has been asking to see it, so here it is. :)
No new updates on the boys. It's been about 10 weeks since we've seen anything on the baby. We were supposed to have some movement last week on the older boy, but haven't heard yet if that happened or not. Since no news has generally meant bad news, I'm guessing not. Praying for good news and updates for both this week...
No new updates on the boys. It's been about 10 weeks since we've seen anything on the baby. We were supposed to have some movement last week on the older boy, but haven't heard yet if that happened or not. Since no news has generally meant bad news, I'm guessing not. Praying for good news and updates for both this week...
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
She Decided for Art
I am one of those weird people who will frame words. And I mean this in the literal sense. If you look closely, scattered around my
house are framed bits of poetry, song lyrics, and prose. I purchased a print of a painting I love for
my husband at Valentines Day and, of course, couldn’t resist copying poetry up
and down the back of it before it was placed lovingly into it’s frame. Because I believe that if a picture is worth a
thousand words, the right words, put
together in a thoughtful way are worth
at least a thousand pictures.
I recently came across this piece by Ann Voskamp. She is the author of One Thousand Gifts, and
writes a wonderful blog, www.aholyexperience.com. Her work is poetry, really. Poetry in the modern disguise of a 21 century
blog. If you aren’t following her
already…you should be. This piece so
resonated with me that I placed it here, next to my bed.
It's a reminder for me to decide for art. To make my life art. To seek out the beautiful. Because when you're really looking for it, you'll find that He's placed little reminders all around you. It felt right to repost it here in this week leading up to
Mother’s Day. It's a piece she titled "How to make a Home". Enjoy.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, her hip would graze his and his arm would find her waist and she would lay awake in the middle of their life.
She didn’t know what would come next and how it all would unfold, but that new mercies always would.
He made it simple. Raising, teaching, the children, wasn’t.
And the meals she always had to keep figuring out, and the laundry that toppled over, and the floors that kept growing mess. The way her mind and heart would wander, crumble at the edges, and she would reach for steadying in her Maker. The way she’d get lost– and remember to breathe. But this, this making of a family, it was not a calling to dismiss but a calling to make disciples.
A calling, that which keeps calling you and you never stop listening for, that is what a calling is, the way He keeps speaking: “This is the way, walk in it.”
So she made soup and matched socks. She scrubbed out the tub. She awoke: One always gets to decide what is mindless work and what is soulful work.
She would decide.
She decided for art, to make her life art. She would make it all art — it all would be art, worship, a gift back. It all would preach Gospel.
And he, he too had these simple ways that steadied her, there in the dark, always in her dark. The way that he talked and moved his hands and worked and held her: he knew how to keep it simple.
Just keep the focus simply on Christ — Walk Forward. Keep company with Christ. Love always. Bend low.
In the midst of everything that went wrong, that was all. They would see everything as the ugly beautiful – because Christ is redeeming everything.
She would light candles. She would murmur thanks.
She would touch him often and gently.
And there would be that:
The best place to make a home is in the state of amazing grace.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Front Row Seats
So this week...yowza...hard...just hard. It was this week that we really sensed there were some major problems with our cases, and it was this week that we got all that confirmed. At one point during this week we thought neither of our adoptions were going to happen. Then we found out some of the things we thought were terrible might not be as bad as we thought. And that some things we thought were probably fine, were more complicated than we had guessed. But the short of it is that, sadly, both of our referrals have major complications.
So the gut reaction that springs from me immediately is "why?" Why does it feel like we have to fight every step of the way? Couldn't there be one thing in this process, just one thing, that goes easier than planned? (Maybe God is saving those things for end of the process. One can hope, right?) And so we've had our moments of grief, and anger, and second guessing, and questions.
And then we remember to breathe. And to pray. To look out, and around at the "beautiful things". (Thanks Erica) To give thanks for what we have. To give thanks for the hope that these sweet boys will eventually make their way home. Then friends and family come out of the woodwork ready and willing to let us lean on them. Strangers tell us beautiful stories of redemption. Our adoption community embraces us, gives us much needed understanding, and reminds us we're not alone. And we regain focus. We regain our resolve.
To speak to some of the specifics: Our older boy is from a region in Ethiopia known as the SNNPR. (Southern Nations, Nationalities, and People's Republic) This is a Southern region in Ethiopia. There have been some big issues with this region over the past 2 years, because of new local regulations. I've seen the word "unadoptable" thrown around online as applied to children from this region. The good news we learned is that a change in personnel of the local government has improved the outlook for prospective adopted children from this region. Our agency is hopeful that movement on his case will take place soon. ("Soon" is such a subjective word, isn't it? But I digress.) We're still dreadfully behind, and there are MANY hurdles yet to be jumped, but we'll take any forward movement at this point.
Our younger boy's case looks to be the more difficult one at this point. Wes and I have discussed what parts of this we should make public, and it's tough. The stories of the boys' birth families are their stories, not ours. While we're ok sharing OUR story publicly, we feel like we should allow the boys to decide how what is known of their birth families should be shared. We try not to say too much about them publicly. So to that end, I'll say this: Issues with his birth family have caused a change in the way his case is categorized. It means re-doing most of his paperwork. He's likely still adoptable, it hasn't changed the fact that he's currently sitting in an orphanage, but it will take many more steps to accomplish this. I'll also say this: his biological family, specifically his biological mother, could use your prayers. She's often in my thoughts these days. I've been painfully aware from the beginning of this process that her deep pain and my great joy will coexist in a single event. I believe with all my heart that adoption is a beautiful example of God's redemption in difficult situations. And my heart breaks for her.
Our agency has offered to put our cases through the courts separately so that if one boy moves through the legal system more quickly, we could get him home sooner. We agreed to this. It means four (at least) trips to Ethiopia instead of two, but we don't want to wait a day longer for either one than we have to.
They've also offered us new referrals which we, of course, declined. We've seen their faces. How could we go on knowing we didn't do everything in our power to see them into loving homes? (Our adoption coordinator actually told us "I know you won't want to do this, but I am supposed to offer it." :) Can I just say we love her? She's been publicly and privately praying for us over these past few weeks, doing everything she can to annoy people into giving us information. So thankful we have her advocating for us.)
The boys' room is officially complete, ready and waiting for them to come home. Wes and I often wander in there from time to time during the day. It stays very neat right now. I think of how much I wish there were little boys here to mess it up. I find myself in there most nights before bed, praying over them. Because their days are our nights, I'm likely catching them just as they start their day. That's how I like to think of it, anyway. I hope that when they look back on this blog later in life they will see the ways they were loved before we were officially in their lives to show them.
A friend, and fellow Ethiopia adoption mom recently told me this of her adoption journey:
So the gut reaction that springs from me immediately is "why?" Why does it feel like we have to fight every step of the way? Couldn't there be one thing in this process, just one thing, that goes easier than planned? (Maybe God is saving those things for end of the process. One can hope, right?) And so we've had our moments of grief, and anger, and second guessing, and questions.
And then we remember to breathe. And to pray. To look out, and around at the "beautiful things". (Thanks Erica) To give thanks for what we have. To give thanks for the hope that these sweet boys will eventually make their way home. Then friends and family come out of the woodwork ready and willing to let us lean on them. Strangers tell us beautiful stories of redemption. Our adoption community embraces us, gives us much needed understanding, and reminds us we're not alone. And we regain focus. We regain our resolve.
To speak to some of the specifics: Our older boy is from a region in Ethiopia known as the SNNPR. (Southern Nations, Nationalities, and People's Republic) This is a Southern region in Ethiopia. There have been some big issues with this region over the past 2 years, because of new local regulations. I've seen the word "unadoptable" thrown around online as applied to children from this region. The good news we learned is that a change in personnel of the local government has improved the outlook for prospective adopted children from this region. Our agency is hopeful that movement on his case will take place soon. ("Soon" is such a subjective word, isn't it? But I digress.) We're still dreadfully behind, and there are MANY hurdles yet to be jumped, but we'll take any forward movement at this point.
Our younger boy's case looks to be the more difficult one at this point. Wes and I have discussed what parts of this we should make public, and it's tough. The stories of the boys' birth families are their stories, not ours. While we're ok sharing OUR story publicly, we feel like we should allow the boys to decide how what is known of their birth families should be shared. We try not to say too much about them publicly. So to that end, I'll say this: Issues with his birth family have caused a change in the way his case is categorized. It means re-doing most of his paperwork. He's likely still adoptable, it hasn't changed the fact that he's currently sitting in an orphanage, but it will take many more steps to accomplish this. I'll also say this: his biological family, specifically his biological mother, could use your prayers. She's often in my thoughts these days. I've been painfully aware from the beginning of this process that her deep pain and my great joy will coexist in a single event. I believe with all my heart that adoption is a beautiful example of God's redemption in difficult situations. And my heart breaks for her.
Our agency has offered to put our cases through the courts separately so that if one boy moves through the legal system more quickly, we could get him home sooner. We agreed to this. It means four (at least) trips to Ethiopia instead of two, but we don't want to wait a day longer for either one than we have to.
They've also offered us new referrals which we, of course, declined. We've seen their faces. How could we go on knowing we didn't do everything in our power to see them into loving homes? (Our adoption coordinator actually told us "I know you won't want to do this, but I am supposed to offer it." :) Can I just say we love her? She's been publicly and privately praying for us over these past few weeks, doing everything she can to annoy people into giving us information. So thankful we have her advocating for us.)
The boys' room is officially complete, ready and waiting for them to come home. Wes and I often wander in there from time to time during the day. It stays very neat right now. I think of how much I wish there were little boys here to mess it up. I find myself in there most nights before bed, praying over them. Because their days are our nights, I'm likely catching them just as they start their day. That's how I like to think of it, anyway. I hope that when they look back on this blog later in life they will see the ways they were loved before we were officially in their lives to show them.
A friend, and fellow Ethiopia adoption mom recently told me this of her adoption journey:
"I almost miss the tension of that season of waiting. It made us so aware of the beauty of God--It almost felt like we had a front row seat to what God was doing."
It's a way of living we are working hard to embrace. To see every challenge as an opportunity for God to work. To live each day on the verge of a miracle.
And so we sit. Here on the edge of our front row seats. Desperate and excited to see what God is doing.
And so we sit. Here on the edge of our front row seats. Desperate and excited to see what God is doing.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Both Ends Burning
Last weekend we were able to get away for a quick trip up to Kansas City. We went to see the STUCK documentary created by Both Ends Burning. Here is the trailer for the movie:
We were deeply moved and challenged by the film. It was a pretty emotional experience for everyone who was there. There were many scenes from orphanages in Ethiopia. It's hard for most people see children struggling to survive in institutional settings. But knowing your own children are there right now, at this very moment. Well, it's almost unbearable.
The film sheds light on problems with the American government, particularly the State Department, for what it calls political apathy towards international adoption.
The film sheds light on problems with the American government, particularly the State Department, for what it calls political apathy towards international adoption.
The film is making it's way across the country, collecting signatures to present to Congress and the President at the Step Forward for Orphans March in Washington D.C. in May. The petition simply asks our leaders to remove barriers to International Adoption, and support international adoption as an important option for those children worldwide living outside of parental care. Your average American is not aware of the precarious position that international adoption finds itself in, or the sharp decline that we've seen in recent years. We bought a copy of the film and would like to show it here in Wichita. More details on that soon.
And now for my two cents and a soapbox. :) Here's why I believe you should care about international adoption. The number of orphans worldwide is sitting somewhere between 10 million and 147 million depending on how you're counting. That's a wide range, but either way a very, very big number. At the height of international adoption, which was around 2007, only about 19,000 children were adopted into the United States. Drop. in. the. bucket. (The number of children adopted into the United States has decreased by more than 50% in the past 5 years.) This is barely a dent in the millions of children living outside of parental care. Obviously, international adoption is not THE solution to our orphan crisis. But here's why I believe it is a critical component. It's because I believe that adopting these children into the United States will help to improve the lives of those orphans left behind.
Melissa Faye Greene in her book There's No Me Without You, says it like this:
Melissa Faye Greene in her book There's No Me Without You, says it like this:
Adoption rescues few. Adoption illuminates by example: these few once-loved children…have been offered a second chance…like young ambassadors, they instruct us. From them, we gain impressions about what their age-mates must be like, the ones living and dying by the millions, without parents… For every orphan turning up in a northern-hemisphere household—winning the spelling bee, winning the cross country race, joining the Boy Scouts, learning to rollerblade, playing the trumpet of the violin----ten thousand children remain behind alone.
These adopted children become little "ambassadors". Caring for our children, knowing them, seeing the beauty of their lives, will help us to actively care about the ones still orphaned in Africa and elsewhere in the world.
Now let me lay some scripture on you:
Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.
James 1:27
Not everyone is called to adoption. And that's ok. But, as believers, every one of us is called to care for orphans. (You can find a list of the many ways you can care for orphans here.)
So there's my not-all-that-articulate two cents on why the preservation of international adoption matters so much. :) (**Steps down from soapbox.)
Also while in Kansas City we got the chance to eat at the Blue Nile Cafe. This is an Ethiopian restaurant in City Market. We'd had Ethiopian food before, but we'd never been to the Blue Nile.
The food was delish! We loved it. We brought home some injera (the spongy Ethiopian bread that serves as your utensil) so that we can make our own Ethiopian feast soon. Stay tuned...
Lastly, we got a sad update on our case yesterday. We DO NOT have our MOWA letters for either boy. (These are recommendation letters from a government agency in Ethiopia that are required to obtain a court date.) We were previously told that we did have them, but that was apparently a misunderstanding in the long game of "telephone" that we play to get information relayed from Ethiopia. We are pretty badly delayed at this point. We've been told that there is no problem, but for whatever reason, things are moving very slowly. It's disappointing and very discouraging, but we aren't giving up on our boys.
We got these bracelets at the Stuck viewing.
You'll be seeing a lot of these over the next few months since Wes and I decided we will continue to wear them as a reminder of the determination and tenacity of the families featured in the film. And we will keep them on until our boys, our family, gets unstuck. But for now we wait...
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