WE GOT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, friends,

God is good.

God is sovereign.

God is mighty.

We wanted our girls home for Christmas.

God said no.

We wanted to be submitted to Ukraine's government by the end of the year.

God said no.

It was SO. HARD.

I lost my battle with sin SO MANY TIMES.

I had to ask forgiveness SO OFTEN.

But God does not want to be done with me yet!

We got word that we have been USCIS APPROVED!!!!!!!!

We have had problem after problem with this step of the process, but we made it!  We did not walk this leg of the journey.  God carried us.  Some days, it felt as though we were being dragged along the stony ground on our faces, but that was only because of the struggles our hard hearts brought along with us.

And we have made it.

Not made it, made it.

The next step will be Ukraine's government.

And that is a doozie.

But, friends...

God has been here EVERY STEP.

He is working.

He is powerful.

He is saying I STILL LOVE YOU.

I AM WITH YOU.

Trust me.

Obey Me.

Let me carry you.

Celebrate with us!

We are one step closer to our girls today!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Proverbs 3:5-6  Trust in the Lord with all your heart; lean not on your own understanding.  In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths!!!!!!!!!  

Legacy: Part 2: Finding Faith

Lillian Steiger did not have an easy life.  Circumstances, some self-inflicted, caused her to be often looked down upon by society, and, I think, she sometimes felt desperate for love and acceptance.  I have a feeling she often struggled with doubt.  I don't know if she ever found faith, but I do know that that somehow, either through watching her own mother struggle or through watching her mother climb out of her doubt, Lillian's youngest daughter, Bernice, became a woman of great faith.  And THAT is the legacy I wish to pass to my children.

Bernice Hepner was my grandmother.  Although, for 20-some years, she always told me that I was her daughter twice--once through genealogy and once through Christ's family, because it was my grandma Hepner who held me on her lap and led me to Christ when I was four years old.  

Several years ago, when reminiscing about my childhood with my grandma, she said that she couldn't remember leading me to Christ.  It made me sad.  

But I can't say I was surprised.  

Grandma forgot everything.  

How to drive.  Where her glasses were.  Who she was talking to.  What she was doing.  How to play Oh No 99.  Who she was mad at.  What she was laughing at.  Where she parked the car.  How to use the computer.  

Oh, wait.  She never knew how to do that.  

I think I've figured out why Grandma forgot things so easily:  Her mental files were too full of her knowledge of God.  

See, to have faith in God, one must know intimately who He is.  And Grandma knew, because Grandma had faith.  

Grandma's faith in God was most evident in her prayer life.  She prayed for everybody.  Even the mayor.  She prayed for the local bar, the Mad Bull, to burn down.  And it did.  Twice.  

And most of all, she prayed for her family.  

Jesus says, "Ask, and it will be given to you.  Seek, and you will find.  Knock and the door will be open to you."  Matthew 7:7

When we get to heaven, i think we are going to see that grandma prayed us through a lot of things.  

One gift for which I will always be indebted to my grandmother is the gift of my husband's salvation.  

From the moment I was born, Grandma told me she was praying for my future spouse.  At eight, I told her to give it up; I was never going to like boys.  She made me state it in writing and gave me this "contract" for a wedding present!

Marc, my main squeeze, was five years old when I was born.

And at age five, right when my grandma started praying for my future husband, Marc felt led, though raised in a spiritual void, to go to church.  He bravely walked next door and asked the neighbors if he could attend church with them.  At five.  Seriously.

Talk about the work of the Holy Spirit.

Talk about an answer to prayer.

Jesus also said, "You don't have enough faith...I tell you the truth, if you had faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say  to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it would move.  Nothing would be impossible."  Matthew 17:20

Grandma had enough faith.

And I want to have enough faith.

So I can teach my children to have enough faith.

So that they can teach their children to have enough faith.

A legacy.

Hebrews 11:1  Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see.  

Legacy Part 1: Anna's Son

Love

Luke 6:45:  A good person produces good things from the treasury of a good heart, and an evil person produces evil things from the treasury of an evil heart.  What you say flows from what is in your heart.  

My MOMS small group leader, Julie, talks a lot about leaving a legacy.  

It's a concept I am beginning to truly understand and a blessing for which I am learning to be immeasurably grateful.  

One thing I've learned is that a meaningful, lasting legacy must be one built solidly on God and His Word.  It is truly the only thing that matters.  When that is the case, a family can leave for its descendants all kinds of lasting legacies:  love, faith, grace, compassion, peace, etc.  

When choosing names for our girls, Marc and I felt very strongly that we wanted their names to symbolize the blessing of legacy we've received.  We wanted to intentionally choose names that represent the people who have gifted us with Godly characteristics that we want to pass down to our children.  

So here they are...

Lilly Ann Sue  

and   

Emma Lee Ayla

Now, believe it or not, those names honor 8 special people in our lives, and over the next few weeks, I want to take the opportunity to introduce you to each of them and to share with you the legacy they've left for their loved ones.  

First up:  Anna Hepner

Now, I will tell you this...I don't know much about my great grandmother.  I honestly can't recall too many stories that I was told about her, but I did know her son.  And I think that we can learn a lot of people by studying their children.  So let me tell you about Anna's son.  

Grandpa Hepner with his arm around his mother, Anna Hepner

For most of my life, my grandpa, Charles Hepner, was strong, hard working, physically fit, intelligent, witty, wise, fun loving, and a lover of all things classic:  music, movies, and fashion styles.  He listened to Benny Goodman, watched Meet Me in St. Louis, and wore neatly press slacks belted snugly over tucked-in collared shirts.  He also wore socks with his sandals.  Grandpa Hepner loved Worther's candy, and was more than willing to share as long as you were more than willing to learn a lesson in being polite.  He loved jokes, he loved the Lawrence Welk show, and he loved my grandma.  They didn't have a perfect relationship, but they worked hard at honoring God and loving each other.  Grandpa's handshake was firm, and his hands were open.  Always.  He gave to anyone in need, and in his nineties and on a fixed income, he tithed 17% of his earnings to the church.  My grandpa wasn't flowery.  His hugs were gruff, his whiskers were scratchy, and his words were firm.  

I said goodbye to this grandpa in March of 2009.  At the age of 92, he had a stroke that left him weak and unable to speak clearly.  The stroke turned him inside out.  All of the things that I had known about him were now trapped inside a body and a brain that refused to work properly.  I believed he was still strong, still hard working, still intelligent, witty, wise, and fun loving, but he couldn't show those things to the world anymore.  Instead, what he wore outwardly in its place was everything he had been hiding in his heart for 92 years.  

Psalm 119:11:  I have hidden your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you.  

He became vulnerable.  Emotional.  Physically affectionate.  Grateful.  Overflowing with praise for God and thanks for his family and friends.  It was sometimes hard for him to control his emotions, which made me realize that even though he presented a calm front all those years, inside life must have been much harder than he always made it seem.  Most beautiful of all, he could not stop expressing his love. 

He and my grandma went to live in an assisted living facility, and due to their complex physical needs, they staff was forced to rearrange their room several times.  My grandpa and grandma gave the nurses and aids fits with this because their chairs JUST HAD to be close enough so that they could hold hands. :)  

When my grandpa was injured in a fall, he was required to go to a hospital and then a nursing home.  He was close to 94 at that time.  Grandpa single handedly put a security guard on the ground because, in his confused state, he couldn't understand why he couldn't leave and see to my grandma.  And our family had to transport Grandma to see Grandpa every few days during the length of his stay because he couldn't stand to be without her.  

After receiving some income that had to be spent immediately, Grandpa and Grandma, of course, wanted to give it away.  But the government wouldn't let them.  So, instead, my mother got the privilege of taking her parents engagement ring shopping--my grandpa insisted that he get my grandma a new diamond.  She was the talk of the facility, let me tell you!  

My grandpa would get so excited when we came to visit.  He made us feel so welcome.  And in his broken, beautiful way, he would never hesitate to say to us, "Thank you, thank you, thank you" or "I love you, I love you, I love you."  

As I got to know this man, I realized that God was giving all of us a wonderful gift.  My grandpa was not perfect, and perhaps his biggest flaw was pride.  That pride had kept him from being able to show all of us the true measure of his heart.  But God made life so that we could see it anyways.  And this second grandpa, the one that was only with me for four years, left just as big of an imprint on my life as the one I had known for twenty-four years.  

I am finding that strokes aren't the only things that turn people inside out.  Loss.  Hardships.  Trials.  Financial struggles.  All of these things have the power to incapacitate a person's outside character and highlight the inner workings of their heart, good and bad.  

Adoption is no different.  

And so, as we face the WAIT, which is so much more painful than the paperwork, I am reminded of the legacy my great-grandma gave to me through her son--my grandpa.  When he was turned inside out, all we saw was love.  Let it be the same for me through this process, so that one day, Will, Mike, Lilly, and Leily may say, our mom left us a legacy of love.  

1 Corinthians 13

If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.  If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing. If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing. Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud  or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.  It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.  Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever! 9 Now our knowledge is partial and incomplete, and even the gift of prophecy reveals only part of the whole picture!  But when the time of perfection comes, these partial things will become useless. When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things.  Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.  Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.

I Felt Like It.

It was ...**shudder**... that time of the month!

Which, naturally, meant that everything going wrong suddenly seemed way, way worse!

And at 6:24 pm, I looked at my husband and said, "Oh! I  haven't even cooked dinner yet!"

And he said, "I know!  What are you making?"

And I wailed, "I don't know!!!!!!!"

He kindly tried to help by saying, "Well, honey, what do you feel like?"

And I replied a tad dramatically, "What do I feel like?

WHAT DO I FEEL LIKE?

I FEEL LIKE DISAPPEARING FOR ETERNITY INTO A ROOM WITH LOTS OF PILLOWS AND A BOOK!"

He smiled.

"And chocolate."

Sniff, sniff.

He lovingly produced a carton of ice cream, a sauce pan for a bowl, and a wooden spoon.  Then, goodies in hand, he escorted me to our bedroom and handed me Jane Eyre.  He shut the door, went downstairs, and grilled burgers.

Sigh.

I have a wonderful husband.

(This is awesomeness right here!)

I enjoyed by Neapolitan ice cream and British romance, but I must admit...as the troops tromped up the stairs to get ready for tuck-in time, I started to fell awful.  As nice as it was to indulge myself a little, I had also missed out on some high quality family time.

:(

And, honestly, regret is usually (okay, always) the outcome whenever I do something because I feel like it.

Emotions are powerful.

Emotions are created by God.

Emotions are given to us for a reason.

But that reason is NOT to motivate or determine our actions.

A wise woman named Melissa Spencer said that our emotions are meant to signal us that there's a problem.  but they shouldn't determine how we address the problem.

Think of a class full of elementary students.  When the fire alarm goes off, it signals to the children that there is a problem.  If the alarm itself motivated or determined the actions of the students, they would:

-scream

-yell

-run

-cry

It would be pandemonium!

But instead, they look to their teacher to tell them what it means and how they should respond, and the teacher tells them to walk quietly out of the building in single file because there is danger.

That's what we're supposed to do.  When our emotions send us a signal, we're supposed to look to our Teacher to see what we need to do.

At the end of a recent sermon, Pastor Gebhards gave us three words:

FEELING

THOUGHT

TRUTH

Pastor G said that the only thing on this list that should motivate or determine our actions is the last one:  TRUTH.

Why?

Because my feelings will deceive me.

Because my thoughts will deceive me.

Because my thoughts and my feelings are mine.

The Bible says, The human heart is the most deceitful of all things, and desperately wicked.  Jeremiah 17:9

And, "My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts," says the LORD.  "And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine."  Isaiah 55:8

But truth comes from God.

John 14:6:  Jesus told him, "I am the way, the truth, and the life.  No one can come to the Father except through me."  

So what does all this mean?

When I find myself feeling scared or angry or sad or hopeless or out of control, then I need to realize that is a signal that something is wrong.  In me.  I need to go to my Teacher, and figure out what Truth of His applies to the situation at hand.  I need to go to the One who gave me Scripture, and figure out what God wants to change in me.  Because if there's a change that needs to be made, it's going to be in my heart.

Do I need compassion?  Faith? Joy? Peace? Selflessness?

What does God want to change in me?

Then, whatever it is, I need to act it out even if I don't feel like it.

Because it's truth, from God.

And when I trust, and when I obey, then God will meet me and give me proper motivation and appropriate emotion.

Author Linda Dillow puts it this way:  God does give us motivation, God does give us feelings, but usually they come as a result of our obedience to Him.  We must first make a decision of the will and then act, stepping out in obedience to God.  God promises He is at work within us, doing His part.  And that's exciting!  

It WORKS!

I promise.

Not that I'm great at it.

But when I get it,

I GET IT!

I get compassion and faith and joy and peace and selflessness and a whole slew of other things that are gifts from God himself.

I am visual.

So this is what I have had to do.  I have had to write down on paper every worry I have about our adoption.  And then, underneath, I list the Truth from Scripture breathed by God that needs to drown out the emotions shouting and screaming worldly lies to me.

-paperwork delays

And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.  For God knew his people in advance, and he chose them to become like his Son, so that his Son would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters.  Romans 8:28-29

-worries about girls' safety

Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.  1 Peter 5:7

-financial obstacles

And this same God who takes care of me will supply all from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus.  Philippians 4:19

-persecution

Be strong and courageous.  Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the LORD your God who goes with you.  He will not leave you or forsake you.  Deuteronomy 31:6

-self doubt

He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.  Even youths will become weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion.  But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength.  They will soar high on wings like eagles.  They will run and not grow weary.  They will walk and not faint.  Isaiah 40:29-31

-discouragement

Then Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you.  Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.  Matthew 11:28-30

-worry

I am leaving you with a gift--peace of mind and heart.  And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give.  So don't be troubled or afraid.  John 14:27

-concern over political state in the girls' country

"For I know the plans I have for you," says the LORD.  "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."  Jeremiah 29:11

When I do this, God will change me.  But I can't give up.  I can't stop after one try or two or three, I must keep persevering, giving it 100% until change happens.

And above all, I must remember this:

John 16:33  I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me.  Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows.  but take heart, because i have overcome the world.  John 16:33

PS I took a break half way through this post to pick up my son, and this song was on the radio.  In the words of my husband, "If you're a Christian, you can't believe in coincidences!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7JTx1ScD-w&spfreload=10

Hypocrites, Crime Rates, and the NFL Draft: A Lesson in Remembrance

When “practicing” for our home study visits (oh, dear, yes—I felt the need to have rehearsals), Marc and I asked each other questions that we thought our social worker might ask.  The one I anticipated (or feared) the most was this:

What is your spouse’s most annoying trait? 

I wanted to make sure I knew what Marc’s answer would be so that I wouldn't react with shock and anger in front of the social worker. 

Marc’s answer? 

My penchant for picking scabs.

Especially his. 

And, of course, he wanted to know what I thought his most annoying trait was in return. 

My answer?

His inability to remember anything unrelated to football or depressing statistics. 

Seriously. 

He can tell you every single NFL Draft hopeful’s Wonder lick score, and how many people are starving in each third world country.  He can even tell you every Browns draft pick for the last 15 years, as well as the crime rates in the United States’ top 100 most dangerous cities. 

But if you want to know where the peanut butter is, you’re sunk.  Even if I just told him five minutes ago. 

Now, please don’t think poorly of my husband.  He really can’t help it.  And I do believe that he tries his best; he just wasn't born with an instinctual Uterine-shaped tracking device.  And I bring this up only to illustrate how absolutely hypocritical I can be. 

See, just today, I forgot. 

I forgot about God’s goodness.

Psalm 34:8:  Taste and see that the Lord is good.  Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in him!

I forgot about His Sovereignty.

Psalm 73:28:  But as for me, how good it is to be near God! I have made the Sovereign Lord my shelter, and I will tell everyone about the wonderful things you do.

I forgot about His Promise to stay with us.

Deuteronomy 31:8: Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor abandon you.

I forgot about His Presence.

Isaiah 41:10:  Don’t be afraid, for I am with you.  Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.

I forgot about His Promise to work things for His good.

Romans 8:28:  And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.

I even forgot about His Love.

John 3:16:  For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.

And I forget these things all the time. 

Today, it was a failed international wire transfer that made me forget the characteristics of God. 

The silliest thing is, He had just given me a wonderful reminder not an hour earlier. 

I left our house after lunch with a long list of errands.  The first was to head off to the library to print off some adoption documents and tutoring lesson plans.  We have a printer, but I have been unable to hook it up to our refurbished laptop.  (Hopefully, by the time I post this, that problem has been remedied.) 

Anyways…

I printed my stack of papers and went to the front desk to pay my two dollars and ten cents.  The librarian, a sweet woman who is always very quick to help, apologized for not putting my random papers in order. 

I told her it was okay, that I was printing a little bit of everything—from vocabulary worksheets to adoption forms. 

“Oh!  Are you adopting your little boys?” she asked excitedly. 

“No, we’re adding two girls.” 

She asked me questions for almost twenty minutes, sharing in my excitement and passion.  She told me of her son, who was adopted at age three and who defied so many odds to become a successful adult and a soon-to-be college graduate.  She became enraged as I told her of the conditions in our daughters’ birth country.  And she encouraged me to look past my children’s disabilities and to set my goals and hopes and dreams high so that my children can set theirs high, too. 

I walked away so encouraged. 

Seventy-two minutes later, I was grousing on the phone to my husband because of a wasted hour at the bank, another delay, and three things un-crossed off my to-do list.  (Oh, the terror!) 

I forgot. 

God reminded me several hours later when I received a phone call that not only cleared up some financial concerns but also hit me smack in the face with God’s goodness.

His Sovereignty. 

His Promises. 

His Presence. 

His Love. 

The Bible hosts scores of top rate forgetters.  Possibly the most famous, mainly because they numbered into the millions, were the Israelites. 

Blood.

Frogs.

Gnats.

Flies.

Livestock.

Boils.

Hail.

Locusts.

Darkness.

Death.

Finally, Freedom. 

But the pharaoh changes his mind and comes charging after the Israelites.  Troops,  chariots, and horses come pounding through the dry sand in hot pursuit.

The Israelites are trapped between impassible water and mortal enemies. 

As their vision narrows in on their problem, they forget about the obvious solution:

God. 

Not just any God.

THE God, who JUST got finished sending ten insanely, unnaturally natural signs that showed His great love and mercy for His chosen people.

In Exodus fourteen, the people complain to Moses, saying, “Why did you bring us out here to die in the wilderness?  Weren't there enough graves for us in Egypt?  Why did you make us leave?”  

(Duh! You were mistreated slaves!) 

And Moses responds, “Don’t be afraid.  Just stand where you are and watch the Lord rescue you.  The Egyptians that you see today will never be seen again.  The Lord himself will fight for you.  You won’t have to lift a finger in your defense!” 

I think my wonderful friend, Lynda, paraphrased Moses best, when she said, “Shut up and get out of the way!  God’s got this!” 

She would know.  She’s walking with her husband through his second battle with cancer.  And the confidence she displays in the Creator and the Savior astounds me.  She has not forgotten.

(Lynda and her husband, Allen)

Thank You, Father, for teaching me, for redeeming my weaknesses and failures through spiritual, life changing victories.  I love you.  Help me to remember. 

Amen. 

Isaiah 46:9:  And do not forget the things I have done throughout history.  For I am God—I alone!  I am God, and there is no one else like me. 

P.S.  An update on the wire transfer…Since our bank could not do it, I was told to try a bigger bank.  I literally drove downtown and pulled into the tallest bank building I could find.  And upon entering, I headed to the first open banker:  A woman who just so happens to speak Russian.  Which is the language in which half of my paperwork happens to be written.   A woman who offered to help us out with our Russian before and after our adoption is made final.  Shut up, Becky, and get out of the way!  GOD’S GOT THIS!   

Knowing

So, I’m a bit of a control freak.  And THAT may be a bit of an understatement.  I can cite several instances of DNA or situational evidence to show why I am that way, but for now, I will entertain you with a story of an airplane trip. 

I hate flying.

HATE IT. 

See, I was in a couple car accidents (I’m not a very good driver) shortly after marrying my main man, and they kind of made me understand what it means to have absolutely no control over my life.  I came very close to dying twice, but managed to walk away unscathed.  And once again, those are stories for another post.  However, despite God’s amazing deliverance from those two accidents, my faith in God did not grow; instead, I became even more fearful. 

So…here I was, several months later, flying to visit my sister in North Carolina.  She herself had just been in a car accident, and she didn't want to drive back to Ohio alone.  So, naturally, I went to be a "comfort."  Me.  Who had to close my eyes and go to a "happy place" every time she  got in a car.  Who refused to drive on four lane highways and barely survived riding on them.  What was I thinking?

Anyways....the first flight was from Columbus to Cleveland.  Yes, I know.  I went north to go south.  But it was cheap.  It was raining, and the plane was one of those tiny things that had one seat on one side of the aisle and two on the other.  I was on the two seater side, sitting next to a pretty, blonde business woman.

We lifted off.

It was horrible.

It started to thunder, and every boom shook our little plane.

With every boom, I grabbed the pretty blonde lady's leg and yelled in terror.

She was very comforting.

Thank goodness she didn't sue me.

Then, it started lightning.

Oy.  I was sure it would hit the wing.

I kept asking the lady, "Should we let the pilot know about the storm?"

And she would say, "I'm sure he sees it, honey."

"But are you sure?  I just need to know he sees it."

"I'm sure, dear.  Now could you let go?  I think you've given me a run in my panty hose."

"Oh.  Sorry."  

I guarantee you it was the longest forty-five minutes of my life.

And of hers.

And I think we all could have saved ourselves the hassle if they just would have let me talk to the pilot.  I needed to know for sure that he was aware of the storm.

There’s something else I don’t know for sure, something that plagues me at every physical and at every doctor’s appointment I've ever gone to.  When a woman fills out paper work at a doctor’s office, there are a series of questions she is asked about her health.  They want to know past surgeries, allergies, shot records, and on and on and on.  Eventually, they ask her how many pregnancies she’s had, and how many children she’s given birth to.  Those are the questions that are hard for me to answer, because I don’t know. 

How can I not know? 

Well, the story goes like this. 

Marc and I had been married just over a year when I started bleeding, kind of like that woman in Luke 8.  This was the second time it had happened.  The first time, Marc and I had been engaged, and after about 20 days of it, I went to the doctor, who told me my hormones were imbalanced, I had a cyst, and birth control would fix it all.  I went on the birth control, the bleeding stopped, and I became Cruella Devil.  No dogs were killed in my brief time as an out of control psycho woman, but I did not at all like the way I felt and acted.  So as soon as the problem was resolved, I went off the birth control. 

When the bleeding started the second time, I called my doctor to let her know that I was having the same problem.  She was busy, and stressed, and overbooked.  So instead of scheduling an appointment, she just called in a prescription for more birth control. 

Here’s the worst part.  I was busy, and stressed, and overbooked too.  So I didn't question her decision.  The symptoms were the same, so I imagined it was the same problem.  I was too busy to stop and think that one major thing in my life was different—one major thing that I should have brought to the doctor’s attention, that may have changed her mind about my situation. 

I was now sexually active. 

Which meant there was a possibility I could be pregnant. 

 I ordered the pills, started taking them, and the bleeding didn't stop. 

I called the doctor.  She said not to worry; it may take a while. 

Thirty days turned to forty-five, turned to sixty.

I called again. 

Give it another month. 

But I’d really like an appointment. 

I don’t have room in my schedule.  Call me if it doesn't stop after another month. 

Okay. 

Eighty days. 

On day eighty-five, I woke up in excruciating pain.  Not constant, but about every three minutes I would be doubled over, fighting to breathe.  It would ease, then come again.  I tried to go to work, but an hour in I had to call my grandpa to take me home.  He wisely took me to my mom’s house, and I called my doctor.  She still didn't want to see me.  I went upstairs to the bathroom I had used thousands of times in my childhood, sat down on the toilet and stared into the mirror as I had done every day multiple times until I had moved out of their house and in with my husband. As I braced myself against the white and gold Formica counter top, I passed the largest blood clot I had ever seen, and the pain stopped.

I didn't know what it meant.  But I knew I was really sick. 

I called another doctor, and he said that I needed to be seen immediately. 

My husband was off work by then, and drove me to his office.  I checked in, and they called me back right away. 

How long has the bleeding been going on?  How long have you been on birth control?  Are you sexually active?  Did you take a pregnancy test before taking the birth control?

No. 

He sent me straight to the hospital to do a pregnancy test. 

The results were inconclusive. 

What does that mean?

That means you’re not pregnant now. 

Was I pregnant? 

The numbers aren’t such that we can confirm you were pregnant. 

So I wasn’t pregnant?

We can’t confirm that either. 

They did what they called a pharmaceutical DNC, and gave me lots and lots of iron pills and pain pills and other things to get me through the next few days.  I did eventually stop bleeding, right about the time the questions started swirling in my brain. 

Did I have a miscarriage? 

Did I deliver a baby in the bathroom of my parent’s house? 

No one seemed to be able to answer those questions. 

For almost eight years, I have wondered and agonized over those questions. 

And I have no answer. 

How do you grieve the loss of a child that you aren't sure ever existed? 

How do you forgive yourself for contributing to the murder of an innocent baby if you aren't sure it ever happened? 

I wanted someone to tell me.  I wanted someone to give me 100% assurance that I was or wasn't pregnant.  But no one could.  Or, maybe no one wanted to. 

There’s so much I don’t know.

But I do know this. 

My God loves me, and my God has the power to redeem even the most awful parts of my life. 

Nine months ago, God seared the faces of two little girls into my heart.  He softened the callous, insensitive corners of my soul and I cried out to Him in anguish as I grieved the loss of innocence, as I grieved the pain and suffering those two girls were being forced to endure. 

And over the last eight months, God has called my husband and me to be their parents. 

About four months ago, I realized that God was working big things in our lives, and I wanted to write it down.  I wanted to be able to set up a memorial that would remind me of all the little but yet so big ways God was actively forming and shaping our lives to take on this huge and awesome responsibility.  As I did so, I was stunned and awed when I realized that my “miscarriage-or-not” was about 9 months before the births of those two little girls.  They would be the same age as the child I may or may not have had. 

I could not grieve the loss of a child I did not know existed. 

But God gave me the opportunity to grieve anyways, this time for two little girls who were definitely alive and who definitely needed a mommy and a daddy. 

And not only has God given me the opportunity to grieve, but I believe that in His unfathomable goodness, He will give me a time to dance. 

Ecclesiastes 3:1-4 says, “There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die.  A time to plant and a time to harvest.  A time to kill and a time to heal.  A time to tear down and a time to rebuild.  A time to cry and a time to laugh.  A time to grieve and a time to dance.” 

I do not deserve God’s forgiveness.  I do not deserve to be a mother.  I put my life and my plans ahead of the safety and well being of a child whose existence I didn't have time to contemplate.  But God forgave me anyways.  And God gave me children anyways, first two boys that have captured my heart and now two girls who will teach me how to find joy and redemption.  Two girls who will teach me how to dance. 

Let me leave you with the words of Psalm 107: 1-2, 41-43:

“Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good!  His faithful love endures forever.  Has the LORD redeemed you?  Then speak out!  Tell others he has saved you from your enemies…he rescues the poor from their distress and increases their families like vast flocks of sheep.  The godly will see these things and be glad…Those who are wise will take all this to heart; they will see in our history the faithful love of the LORD.”

Babies Don’t Grow on Trees, You Know.

So, my boys talked me into renting movies (I am NOT a movie buff).  We went to Family Video, where kids’ movies are free, and I unsuccessfully tried to talk them into things like Barbie and Mermaid and Tips on French Braiding Hair.  We wound up with a Ninja Turtles, two types of Batman, and the Justice League.  I can’t wait until I have girls!

Anyways…

We’re watching Justice League, and Elastic Man’s wife makes a voluptuous entrance with her Elasti-Baby and Weiner Dog.  She says something like, “Hey Mr. Stretchy Pants!  You and your sidekick need to take the kid and the pooch to the Art Show!  Now!” 

I can’t say I am a fan of the show’s portrayal of family dynamics. 

Then, Mrs. Bossy says something that about makes me fall off my chair.  She parts with, “Make sure you’re careful.  Babies don’t grow on trees, you know.” 

At first I chuckled.  I mean, duh!  Of course babies don’t grow on trees.  Can you imagine them hanging from their belly buttons, kicking and wiggling?  Maybe it was because I wasn't getting enough sleep, but the whole thing just tickled me.  I laughed and laughed. 

The phrase stuck with me. 

And after awhile, I realized that as silly as it was, it was a concept that people everywhere didn't seem to grasp.    

In Eastern Europe, where our girls are living, people only love perfect babies.  Ones with physical, mental, or emotional differences are tossed aside and locked away in cold, calloused institutions where they are neglected, starved, and abused.  They are no different than the apples at the orchard that are dismissed from the sale shelf because they are spotted or misshapen or soft on one side.  But babies aren't meant to be treated like apples.  

In America, we have legalized murder.  We call it abortion.  We rip babies out of their mommies’ tummies before they’re ready to survive on their own.  It’s like the man who mows over his tomato plants before they've blossomed because he doesn't want to take time to mow around them.  But babies aren't meant to be treated like tomatoes. 

As I was thinking of all of these things, the verses from Matthew 19:13-15 came to my mind:   Then people brought little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked them.  Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

And I grew angry at the people all around the world who treat babies like they are no more important than apples or tomatoes. 

It was then that a soft, still voice blew over my soul, stirred a memory in my head, and reminded me that I was no different. 

I used to treat my babies like they grew on trees. 

Sometimes, I still do. 

This is one of the most difficult lessons God has ever taught me, but it has definitely been the one filled with the most blessings. 

When Will was born, I was working at Wynford High School teaching Junior/Senior English, running the school newspaper, and planning prom.  I worked 60-70 hours a week, and was so occupied with my life at work that I often forgot to go home for dinner.  I even tried to schedule my baby’s due date over Easter vacation.    

I loved my job. 

So much so that I poured my whole heart into it—a heart that ultimately should have been God’s.  But I wasn't ready to surrender. 

It took a scary diagnosis and an incredibly patient and loving God to make me realize that he had called me to something far greater than what I was already doing. 

At three, Will was diagnosed with transient tic syndrome, a diagnosis that was later upgraded to Tourette’s Syndrome.  Up until that time, I was perfectly happy letting someone else—my mother—raise him and his brother, Michael, who is two years younger. 

What changed?  God used Will’s Tourette’s to make me see just how much I was missing and how precious the privilege of being a mother really is. 

When Will was diagnosed, we immediately began to search for ways to minimize his tics.  As we searched, we were encouraged to journal his daily diet and habits in order to find patterns and possibly triggers.  The main pattern that I began to notice throughout that process was that I did not spend very much time with my kids.  My mom actually fed them more meals a week than I did.  And it really bothered me. 

After twelve months of thinking and (not as much as I should have) praying over this revelation, God led our family to move out of our home state, away from our families and my job.  God used that time to knead and soften my selfish, hard heart, and when my husband suggested that I take this opportunity to stay home with our boys, I did not balk like I would have twelve months earlier. 

I decided to try my hand at being a stay at home mom.

I wasn't very good at it. 

I was impatient and inconsistent.  I was moody and easily frustrated.  I allowed my emotions to control my interactions with my children, and as a result, our relationship and their behavior did not improve.  After several months, I was desperate for help.  And just at that time, two new friends invited me to a Bible Study for Mothers. 

Through that Bible Study, I was introduced to Shepherding A Child’s Heart, a book by Ted Tripp that pulls amazing Biblical parenting advice and explains it clearly and simply. 

My life was changed!

I began to see my personal responsibility and privilege to parent my children, and I began to understand how to love my children through communication, discipline, and instruction.  I began to see that the focus of our interaction should not be their behavior but the state of their hearts.  I began to lead them to Christ and the glory of God’s redemption of our lives as I worked to know and understand them.  The difference was incredible. 

See, before, when I was not just a working mom but a work-a-holic-mom who hated leaving her job to go home to her kids, I didn't understand the value of my children.  But that changed, and as I started to search scripture, I began to see the truth of Psalms 127:3-5:  Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.

I also began to see that I was not unlike my children:  desperate for love and guidance from my heavenly Father.  I learned to help them see that I wasn't pushing them anywhere; I was walking with them to the arms of our Savior.  

The change in our family was drastic.  My boys stopped being angry because I had stopped being angry.  My boys began to adopt attitudes of compassion and grace and love because they saw God’s compassion and grace and love flowing through me. 

It was through learning to love my children as Christ would have me love them that I learned about God’s true love for me.  I began to comprehend the verses in Psalm 139:13-16:  For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.

Since that time, my husband and I have read Shepherding a Child’s Heart together, and we are passionate sharers of our testimony.  God took our pitiful excuse for parenting, and by his grace, made us passionate searchers for Godly wisdom that will enhance our ability to make our children glorifiers of God. 

I fail daily.  I am selfish and lazy and impatient and fearful and unfocused on a regular basis.  But there is a difference now—I have tethered my calling as a parent to the will of God, and when I get off course, I work to confess my sins and align my actions with God’s directions in the Bible. 

And despite my daily failures, despite the moments when I still treat my precious children as if they grow on trees, God has chosen to add to our quiver through adoption. 

There will be hard days, and there will be days when I fail and when I am broken and when I must confess to God and my children that I have treated them poorly.  But I am confident that God is blessing us as we strive to follow His Will, and I am so grateful for his mercy. 

My prayer is this:  That we all may learn to appreciate children for what they are:  precious, beautiful gifts of God that are molded and formed and made in God’s image to give Him glory. 

 Ephesians 2:10: For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

I CANNOT SAVE THE WORLD

This. Is. Me.

Could that be a mullet?  Maybe.  I admit nothing.

Growing up, I was THAT KID.  You know, the one that led No-Littering Marches across the playground, spent her lunch money on Save The Whales t-shirts, and donated her entire life savings ($4.85) to her cousin’s missionary trip to Hungary and Romania.  (Don’t worry, folks; I didn't send myself into destitution.   My uncle was so touched by my gift that he gave me $20, which I used to start the Send-Becky-To-Math-Camp-Fund.  Go ahead.  Read that sentence again.  You didn't make a mistake.  It says MATH camp.) 

Anyways—if there was a cause, I was at the center of it, busting my tail and doing everything in my power to “make a difference” and “save the world.” 

What a joke.

No one can save the world. 

And the truth is, I wasn’t made to save the world.  If I had that power, God wouldn’t have needed to send his one and only Son, Jesus, to do it.

The Bible is very clear that saving the world is HIS job: 

John 3:16:  For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.

Psalm 27:1:  The Lord is my light and my salvation—so why should I be afraid?  The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?

Acts 4:11-12:   For Jesus is the one referred to in the Scriptures, where it says, “The stone that you builders rejected has now become the cornerstone.”  There is salvation in no one else! God has given no other name under heaven by which we must be saved.

So if that’s true, then why do I try to save the world?

Pride.

Arrogance. 

Because I think I’m good enough. 

But I’m not. 

Romans 3:23:   For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard.

Romans 5:8:  But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.

1 Timothy 1:15:  This is a trustworthy saying, and everyone should accept it: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners”—and I am the worst of them all.

See?

When I try to save the world, several things happen. 

#1:  I forget my own need for God.  I become judgmental of others and start to focus on their sins, completely ignoring the fact that mine are vast and ugly as well.  I also see myself as the answer instead of God, and as a result, I neglect my Heavenly Father, who is, indeed, everything. 

#2:  I get weary.  The world is SO, SO big, and I am SO, SO, small.  I do not have what it takes, not the money, not the time, not the resources, not even the compassion to help every single person on earth who “needs my help.” 

#3:  I get angry.  I don’t understand, with all the work and effort I’m putting into saving the world, why things aren’t getting any better!  I question why God isn’t fixing things the way I want Him to!  But God is not on his throne in Heaven to do my bidding; in fact, it’s quite the opposite. 

When I was in college, all Freshmen had to take a class called World Changers.  It was this cliché that was thrown around campus so much that it turned into a big joke. 

And we were kind of right. 

Being a World Changer is a big joke. 

It’s like a cup thinking it can cure dehydration. 

Or a scalpel thinking that, all by itself, it can perform life saving surgery. 

Cups and scalpels are tools used by people to perform jobs.  They do not heal bodies.  They do not quench thirst. 

We are tools of Christ, used to do His bidding, used to spread His saving power and life changing grace.

We are cups and scalpels, not water and surgeons. 

So as a tool of Christ, the World Changer, what am I to do?

He gives me His instructions in Matthew 28:19-20:  “Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

So it is my job to take Him to the ends of the earth so that He can save the world. 

When I realize this, that I am a tool of the World Changer, I find three tings to be true. 

#1.  I am not proud anymore.  To take Christ to others means that I must allow His light to shine through all my flaws, illuminating them as well as God’s grace and mercy and forgiveness and saving power.  Take Rahab, for example.  Though a changed woman, she will always be known as “the harlot.”  Talk about humility.  And talk about a shining light of God’s grace. 

#2.  I am refreshed.  It’s like playing football in the backyard of great-grandma Witter’s house when cousin Andy shows up and joins your team.  You can be losing by 20 touchdowns, but it’s okay because once he’s in the game, just snap the ball and hand off to him.  He’ll carry it to the end zone every time—with the whole opposing team on his back—because no one can tackle him.  That’s God.  He is unbeatable.  And YOU get to be on HIS team, if you humble your heart, turn from your sins, pick up your cross, and follow Him.  (A paraphrase of Luke 9:23)  

Yes, there is a cross.  A burden.  But it’s so much lighter than the sinful one we choose to carry around.  Here’s proof:  

Matthew 11:28-30:  Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”

#3.  And finally…I’m not angry anymore.  Instead, I am filled with thankfulness when I realize that the God of the universe would use me to spread His world-changing message of eternal salvation and freedom from sin.  If there is still anger, it is not at God.  It is righteous anger, at those who profane the message of God and pervert it into something that defies His character and goodness.  And anger is (or should be) defined as this:  passion that motivates you to change something for the better.  Most the time, that change is something that must take place in my own heart—not someone else’s. 

I think, sometimes, in the adoption circles, people struggle with the idea of “Saving the World” because they’re continuously told things like what I myself have said to my adoptive parent friends: 

“You’re my hero!”

“You’re so brave!”

“I could never do what you are doing!”

And the truth is, while those words are nice to hear, they also come with expectations.  We as adoptive parents need to be brave heroes who do what no one else can do!  You begin to feel as though you are the only saving grace for these hurting children.  But even if you adopted 150 of them, there would still be more.  And that realization is enough to cripple even the bravest hero. 

I think, in order to be used by the one and only World Saver, we need to make it clear that we’re all “harlots” in our own ways.  We need people to understand that we are totally incapable of doing what we’ve been called to do—that surrendering to God in this is just as much about us being saved as it is the children we see as so desperately in need.  

We need to understand that, in God’s eyes, we’re all so desperately in need. 

Only then will others begin to understand that they don’t have to be a world changer or difference maker in order to follow God’s call to care for orphans.  They only have to be an empty cup.  A willing scalpel. 

God will do the rest. 

And when we all really get that, we’ll throw our capes and crowns at God’s feet, step back, and watch Him save the world. 

John 3:16-17:  For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.  God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.