God gave us you

Well, it was a year ago last day-after-Thanksgiving when we first saw a glimpse of our sweet son, Isaiah. I thought it was appropriate to make an exception to my season of not blogging to remember (with you) that day, and the year that has followed.

Though because of its origins Thanksgiving is a little yucky to me (sorry to be a hater, but the pilgrims weren't exactly gentle, gracious, peace loving people), I am still thankful for the holiday, one that perhaps uniquely hasn't been totally commercialized. Besides the traditional meal--who knew people eat turkey AND ham?--Macy's Day parade and football, there aren't that many distractions from what modern Thanksgiving is supposed to be about: family and being thankful.

How fitting that on a holiday intended to teach us to be thankful, when we are all usually surrounded by our extended families, we received news of the greatest earthly gift imaginable: a child. A son. Our "Dieudonne Rukundo", literally "Gift of God" or "Given by God" and "Love".

Psalm 68:6 God puts the lonely into families.

That morning, after many sleepless, tear-filled nights, we found out about our son. And we found out that our son, who went far too long without a family, now had an enormous one. One with parents who glow at the mention of his name, one with a sister who is his best friend and biggest fan, one with cousins he now delights in, aunts and uncles who love him dearly, and grandparents who spoil him in every way. And of course our other extended family--our amazing friends--who have celebrated him, rejoiced with us about him, supported us in the hard days, and delighted in and treasured his presence.

The day we saw your face, William Isaiah Rukundo Thompson, we knew from deep within our souls, that you were our son. Your daddy wept tears of joy. Your mommy jumped onto the chair, shaking with eager anticipation, as we waited to open the emailed picture. In those precious moments, it felt as if every part of us--our mind, body and spirit--burst into jubilant psalm.

I can't articulate the immense joy we experienced the moment we knew your name and saw your beautiful face, and yet our joy has only increased at least tenfold since having you home.

You are our beautiful, sought after, ached and longed for son. We can't imagine our family without your presence. This thanksgiving we give thanks that you are at the table with us. That God gave us you.

The picture we received:

click here and here to see some fun pictures and videos. Happy Thanksgiving!

and one last note: to clarify my last post about Isaiah/us, I would actually say that what feels like regression is actually some kind of progress. in many adoptions, kids hide/pretend for the first many months. being perfectly behaved, always copying siblings' behavior, etc. The ways Isaiah is acting right now actually (I think) shows that he's starting to come out of his shell. he's testing us, wondering how unconditional our love is. he is such a sweet kiddo. please pray we'll be patient and loving and show him he's safe and loved in our home.

signing off...at least for while

hello friends.
well, things in the house = chaos land. for a number of reasons I'm going to sign off for a while. maybe permanently. here are ways you can pray for us (and you can always email me!!):

• best way we can describe it is Isaiah is regressing. we're not sounding an alarm or anything (regression is TOTALLY normal and to be expected), but we're getting some help to make sure we're doing the right things. we're mostly going back to what our lifestyle and parenting approaches were when Isaiah first came home (keeping a slower pace, lots of time in the house, attachment/play therapy strategies, bottles, ergo carrier, etc.) his stomach stuff is still there as well so we're going to be trying to spend more time figuring that out. please pray for our little man to keep moving towards trusting us and believing that we're going to stay. pray that when he pushes us away, when he tries to make us mad at him, that we will show him how much we love him. pray that he'll continue to understand that we're going to love him no matter what. and pray for us to be able to follow through with the things we need to do to make this season of life feel safer to Isaiah. it was easier to do this when he was first home (and easier for other people to understand that we were doing it). he doesn't always show his struggle symptoms with other people around and I need to just deal with people not understanding or believing that I can tell that things aren't going well right now. now that we're back to a mostly normal (pretty fast and pretty relational) pace, it is harder to back out again. but we need to. pray we'll know how to prioritize. how to stay healthy ourselves. pray that we'll just do the things we need to do. and not add a ton on and not waste a ton of time on unhealthy distractions.
• coinciding with all of this, I need to not write publicly for a while (which is good because like I already said, I need to spend less time doing it and more time loving my kids and husband and more time making our house not feel like a tornado hit it everyday). Also, I'm starting to depend on writing and on people's opinion of me too much (lives out like an addiction actually). The things I'm most passionate about thinking, writing, talking about (faith, the world/those who are poor, adoption) are difficult to share about in writing. and I'm not very good at talking about them in a grace saturated way. That's not the best representation of Jesus in such a public space, especially when I don't know the actual audience. I also want to be a big deal. I want people to think well of me, of my approach to life. I want them to value our thinking. I know a lot of people struggle with this, but I'm struggling with it in a way that's destructive/too much right now. I need to learn some lessons in quietness, humility, and what feels like obscurity (in other words, being a stay at home mom). pray I'll use the freed up time well. that I'll learn how to be obedient and discerning about whether it is ever healthy or helpful to share in this kind of manner (this is personal. I'll continue to be grateful to read other people's blogs and stories because I love learning in that way...for me right now, though, it seems like it isn't a healthy exercise.) So at least a "fast" from blogging is necessary. perhaps permanently or perhaps only for a while so that it loses the power it has over me right now (power I've given it) and I can handle it with moderation.

I'm so thankful I've been able to depend on this community, even if most of you are anonymous!, through the past many months. I've learned a lot about myself through this. I may post something funny or a prayer request for the kids occasionally, but otherwise I'll be laying low for a while. xoxo

what we shared

several folks have asked how yesterday morning went/what we shared, so I thought I'd give you a little taste of it. Hunter was the one who talked about our family, so he might give us the full sha-bang at some point.

summary moment (not a part of the service): Hunter said to my sister KayLeigh (because she usually goes to church somewhere else): "I'm so glad you are at church with us this morning!" KK back to him: "I'm so glad Isaiah's at church with us this morning."

So, I was the call to worship person and mostly told others that for that morning we were being invited to have our gap (between how life is and how life should be) expanded, because we were going to hear about beautiful children's stories from around the world who are living in varied situations of suffering. the good news, of course, is that as the gap grows, if we hear the truth of the gospel in the midst of that, if we search the bible to see what God has to say about it, our understanding of how big the gospel is. the beauty of it, the hugeness of it will grow as well. I used the aslan/lucy quote about aslan seeming bigger to her. (and of course when we understand what God has done for us, then we want to be participants in making the gap (between how life is supposed to be and how it is)- smaller.

later in the morning, Hunter shared about our family and shared a little snippet about how the gospel has grown in each of our hearts because of adoption (how we've been shaped in positive ways by it).

lucy prays regularly for kids w/out families and tells Isaiah (when he's sad): "it's okay brother, you're in your family now. she's more compassionate and aware of the world. Hunter has gone from only (mostly) caring about the big picture systemic change (in an emotionally removed kind of way) into a much more emotional, father-like response. I've been given a window more into God's heart for those who are suffering (and of course into my self-righteousness, though he didn't share that). and Isaiah is much better able to believe (we hope) that God is loving and good because he is starting to receive the essentials that, without which, makes it really difficult to believe or understand God's love.

then he shared about how Isaiah's tummy problems are still causing us some significant trouble, but we can get an army of folks at the hospital. all the experts we need to address it. whereas there are lots of kids at home of hope and around the country and around the world who don't have parents to advocate on their behalf. and so we need to remember them. pray for them. advocate for them. provide for them.

other folks shared as well, which was BEAUTIFUL about downs syndrome adoption. it was a beautiful morning. here's a quote from the end of our pastor's sermon (which was really great as as a whole!):

"on the cross, when the Father turned his face from his son. when, as the Jesus storybook bible records, Jesus cried out "Papa! Papa, where are you! Papa don't leave me!" the Son of God, our suffering savior, experienced the rejection, despair, confusion, disorientation and sadness that orphans all over the world experience. he experienced it on a cosmic level so that ONE DAY, like it is recorded in rev 21, there will be no more sadness. no more poverty, no more war, no more sickness or any other reason that causes children to be orphaned. HE experienced it, HE tasted suffering and in his resurrection he declared victory over it. one day it will be no more.

and, as if that's not enough, though children who are orphans in this world did nothing to deserve their estranged status, the Bible tells us that we, who deserve to be separated from God, who deserved to have him turn his back on us because of sin, we are told in the Bible that Jesus was rejected by God so that we could be adopted by him. he paid all the expenses of our adoption. and we are now brothers and co-heirs with Christ. no other God is like that, who will end suffering, who will end the orphan crisis, because he tasted it, becoming like one himself. who would give up his rightful position as son and equal with God so that we, who continually turn our backs on him, could be adopted into God's family. but that's the very God we serve."

he also shared this great John Stott quote on suffering:
“I could never believe in God, if it were not for the cross… In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered many Buddhist temples in different Asian countries and stood respectfully before the statue of Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile playing round his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have had to turn away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in God-forsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us. Our sufferings become more manageable in light of his. There is still a question mark against human suffering, but over it we boldly stamp another mark, the cross which symbolizes divine suffering.”- John Stott - The Cross of Christ

We sang "a mighty fortress is our God", "Victory in Jesus", I am bound for the Promised Land" and other songs that remind us that one day the battle (in this case, suffering) will be over. God has won.

I loved it :)

you had me at Open Letters

Dear wifey:
thanks so much for coming this weekend. you are the best E-harmony-like friend I've ever had. and since you are my blog dawg (I have no idea why I just made up that terrible term that doesn't sound like anything either of us would say) I dedicate this post to you.

You make me laugh harder than most people in the world, in writing and in person. and I could say the same thing about how much you make me think. Thanks for using your creativity, your brilliant, sassy and super-quick wit, and your depth of character and faith in your writing (and for forbearing with me and the uber-serious tone in mine). you are a gift.

short and sweet:

• you blew me away with ideas and moments like this
• you almost lost me because of ridiculously cute things like this or this (and, well, anything crafty)
• I thought you stole my brain at points like this
• I almost peed my pants in times like this

and yet, you are even more intriguing, funny, beautiful, creative, joyful and simply lovely in person. but, like my best friend here says (and it is such a gift for me to know and learn to believe): I don't love you because of any of those things. I just love you. so, if your posts ever start showing the (figurative) mid-forties sag, I'll love you anyway.

You had me at Open Letters,
Adrianne

"Aslan, you're bigger."

Did you know that Lucy, our daughter's name, is a family name? Yep, 5th one in 10 generations (or something like that). The name actually came as a "gentle suggestion" from a family member on Hunter's side. But in actuality, its family significance was only a really small part of the reason that we named her Lucy.

[Note to reader: please don't tell this to my in-laws, especially Hunter's maternal grandmother, because I hope I scored some major points with the "family name choice." While we're at it, actually, don't tell them that the real reason I chose an Episcopal pre-school was not because of its academic or spiritual superiority or my desire to have her at an Episcopal school at all, but because of proximity to our house and the carpool rules (I don't have to get out of our car). Deep thanks go out to my girl, Susie, for giving me those extremely valuable criteria for selection. I'm serious.]

The two biggest reasons we named her Lucy were:

1. Lucy means "bringer of light." what a prayer we have for her little life. that she'd bring light, hope and joy everywhere she goes.

2. In CS Lewis' wonderful series, the Chronicles of Narnia, one of the four main characters is named Lucy. In one of the books, Lucy is able to physically see Aslan (Jesus) when other people can't, particularly when they are all lost and unsure of what direction to go. Again, another prayer we have for her life: that in the midst of darkness and confusion, whether other people see Him or not, Lucy would see "Aslan" and gently point others in his direction (and that she would follow him).

As we've thought about what to share about our family's adoption story this upcoming Sunday at church, a friend reminded me of this beautiful quote from Prince Caspian (one of the books in the Chronicles of Narnia series).

In Lucy’s first encounter with Aslan in this story, she says,“Aslan, Aslan. Dear Aslan. At last.”…She gazed up into the large wise face. “Welcome child,” he said.“Aslan,” said Lucy, “you’re bigger.” “That is because you are older, little one,” answered he.“Not because you are?”“I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.”

When I became a Christian (though I grew up in the church, I'd say this really happened for me in college), the thing that was most important to me was the fact that I got cut from the women's basketball team at Wake Forest. Totally legitimately, God opened my eyes to him through the humility, sadness, and brokenness that came from this deep disappointment. I learned that God was big enough to handle our disappointments, insecurities, identity crisis, etc. That's how big I needed him to be, and that's about as big as I saw him.

Since then, though, I've grown in my love for God, which has led me to situations where I've had my eyes opened to a lot of suffering in the world. I've traveled to many places in the world that people consider "developing" or "third world" countries. I lived in Zimbabwe with beautiful girls who were orphaned, mostly because of a combination of AIDS and poverty. I went on humbling and inspiring work trips to learn about how God is at work in Uganda, Rwanda, Zimbabwe, Kenya, Guatemala, Ecuador, Brazil and India.

And through adopting Isaiah from Rwanda, God has continued to open my eyes to the way many people in the world live.

The suffering many people face is completely overwhelming and should ruin our appetites.

And my understanding of a God from college who can meet you in fairly minor disappointments and insecurities-- comparatively speaking-- wasn't strong enough to handle the things I had seen. the systemic brokenness, the sheer numbers of children who are orphaned or who only eat once a day. the personal stories of heartache. each one enough to make you sob yourself to sleep and wonder about a loving God.

Simultaneously, in the past 18 months of our adoption story with Isaiah, I've also learned a lot more about myself. More about the ways I live that fall very short of what is acceptable. my pride. my self love and self absorbtion. my self righteousness. my judgmental attitude. my laziness. and so on. I realized personally I needed a God who was much bigger, much more gracious to cover my sin and make me acceptable to God.

I needed him to be bigger for the suffering of the world. and I needed him to be bigger for me. or else I had no hope and no assurance.

And God has shown himself so much bigger. So much more faithful.

But, like Aslan said, He didn't grow; it was my understanding of him that did.

I've searched the Bible for hope, I've pleaded and cried out in anger in prayer at what felt like an absent God in the face of suffering, I've invited the Holy Spirit to search my heart and show me what is offensive.

and I've seen.

he's answered prayers. He's shown me his promises in the Bible. promises to wipe away every tear. promises to restore everything that's broken. he's shown me a Jesus, our savior, who wept over death. He's shown me a God who hears the cries of the afflicted. who promises justice for the oppressed. he's shown me mercy for me, a sinner in need of grace. and he's shown me hope and promise for a world that suffers.

and now when I worship God I sometimes feel like I'm going to burst because the news is so much better than it has ever been. it has always been this good, I just didn't know it.

I'm so excited to hear the Gospel preached this weekend, particularly in light of the brokenness and suffering in the world. I want us all to grow in our understanding of the enormity and beauty of the Gospel. and when we talk about facing big issues like "the orphan crisis", we have to talk about a really big God.

I'm so thankful for Isaiah being in our family for countless reasons. one of them is that his story is a means of grace for me. I'm learning that God is the one who is going to save the world and who has saved me.

"Salvation is from God." did you know that's the literal meaning of Isaiah?

some thoughts on care and caution about upcoming orphan sunday

So, this is just a conversation starter. I've not thought through this enough to cling too hard to my ideas below. Some of these thoughts have been brewing for a long time, and I want to learn from what other people think. and I want to speak into the conversation as well. I'm sure my ideas/thoughts aren't new; in some circles of people/organizations who work for the good of those who are poor, this conversation is advanced and pretty mature; in other circles it is less so. I'm going to embolden the main points below for easier/faster reading. feel free to skip through and comment if you have thoughts or ideas.

I don't want people to feel like they have to walk on eggshells when communicating about these issues around me (or others), but I hope by sharing these thoughts on caution we'll better love these children around the world.

With a special Sunday coming up, where, in lots of churches throughout the country (including ours), children around the world who have been orphaned will be recognized, prayed for, honored and defended; God will be lifted up as the One who hears their cry; whole services will be purposely shaped to communicate God's great love for these kids and His command for us to defend the cause of the fatherless (By the way, praise God that this is happening in so many churches!!), I just want to offer a few words of caution and care for me and others involved:

1. Let's be creative in the ways we defend the cause of the fatherless and advocate for these children. and let's be extremely careful that we do it without objectifying them. it is a slippery slope and so important. There are lots of ways you can "fall off" regarding this issue, actually. and, not surprisingly, I've probably done them all.

you can go anywhere from exaggerating, potentially overdramatizing or treating unique stories in a way that allows people to think that (the terrible picture painted) is the life of every child who was orphaned or the life of every child who lives in Africa... all the way to undercommunicating the actual devastation that exists in lots of places and making poverty palatable.

many of us are familiar with the first set of issues; we've watched the videos that leave us feeling completely sick and convicted/guilty. some of that is real and good to communicate because we should care about those needs and work for good, but it can sometimes border on (or worse than border) on being manipulative of the viewers and objectifying of the kids in the videos. I think we know that danger a little bit.

but perhaps you are less familiar with the flipside (potentially undercommunicating the needs of children who are orphaned)...I'll hit on this in a different way on another point below (making sure we don't take the "spiritual adoption" comparison too far), but for now, I'll say this. I looooooove Mocha Club and their "we need africa more than africa needs us" campaign. love it. so much so that I'm tempted not to say any cautious words because I'd MUCH MUCH MUCH rather err on this side. seriously, watch the awesome video I linked above. it is great ... but just in case there are people out there like me, who sometimes struggle with this side too, I have to.

while, like they say in the video, there are tons of beautiful, joyful stories in the midst of poverty... overcorrection and communicating that it is just beautiful. that the stories are just so joyful. like poverty is to be somehow envied...which is why we should all move our families there because you learn better life lessons...is obviously dangerous too. there are TONS of stories like that. and we should learn from them. many people who live in very poor circumstances really are very joyful. and I wish so much that there weren't terrible stories. that there weren't ones that don't have silver lining. I wish there weren't stories that would never, ever, ever be envied.

but there are stories like that.

poverty sometimes--way too many times--reaches a level that doesn't have space for finding the good in the story. and we should make sure that in our good fight to protect the dignity of those who are poor and the beauty in some of the stories, we don't protect people from hearing the truth of other, worse, situations. we need to make sure we don't make extreme poverty somehow palatable.

again, I'm not picking a fight with Mocha club or mocha club lovers. I'm a huge fan. but I am suggesting that some people might misinterpret their great material and, without more information, underappreciate some of the real needs.

crazy how we can fall of the wagon so many ways, no?

good grief that was long. sorry. moving on.

2. During our church service that Sunday, Hunter and I have been asked to share about our experience adopting Isaiah. While I'm comfortable speaking in a lot of situations, it feels pretty clear that I might not handle this one so well (no, really??) so Hunter will speak on our behalf.

We want to find ways to appropriately share our experience in a way, like above, that doesn't pretend like Isaiah's life was just grand and perfect before, but without speaking disparagingly of his life in Rwanda and without objectifying him. without leading him (or others) to feel like he is a cause in our family instead of our precious, unique, beautiful son.

we want to honor him and our careful thinking about language is critical. (similarly, we were conscious of this with our journey to isaiah video (wanting joyful music that wouldn't pull too hard on heartstrings...but I also don't want to pretend that it is all just peachy. aye yi yi.)

A friend who advocates for people who live in unbelievably terrible circumstances around the world has a rule that, when he is speaking or writing about a person, he imagines that they are in the room with him. listening intently and understanding every word. he "brings them to the conversation" in his mind, which helps him make sure he speaks in a dignifying and truthful way.

on a different, but related note, I also want to protect the honor of the people who live in Rwanda. especially the amazing women who cared for Isaiah at Home of Hope, who willingly live in tough circumstances.

anyway, I would love for people to caution me when I've gone too far in sharing things. I mean that. I'm sure it will be hard to hear, but I'd like to err on that side of the conversation since my tendency is probably to overshare. Are there folks out there who have good measuring sticks or rules for how/what/when to share?

3. you've probably noticed it already, but, when possible, I think let's try to say "children who are orphaned" instead of "orphans." maybe that's just semantics, but saying "orphans" seems too defining, too minimizing of other things that define people. I get that for many kids this is the most defining thing in their life and I don't want to underappreciate that, but, like my friends Chris and Phileena Heuertz at Word Made Flesh, I would tend towards: people who are poor, children who are orphaned, women who prostitute. it is something about them; it isn't who they are.

4. Lastly, I'm super thankful for the comparison people have made between our spiritual adoption by God (through Christ we are now his sons) and the adoption of children. it is an interesting and sometimes helpful comparison. I totally agree.

However, from the way I understand it at least, the actual link between those things is not made in the Bible. I make that distinction because, like any metaphor, it only works for so long.

I think it is great because it helps us identify how God put us into his family, though we weren't naturally his children. and that leads us to be thankful for his grace in Jesus and leads us to live our lives differently. and that's beautiful...

but here are my two words of caution about it.

1) make sure you know that the comparison breaks down at this really important point. it was our fault (sin) that we weren't in God's family, except for his saving grace. it isn't a child's fault that they don't have a family. Isaiah wasn't undeserving of a family. it wasn't unmerited grace or sacrificial love that brought Isaiah into our family.

little annoying sidebar because this is uber-long already, but I'm doing this great bible study material right now, but the usage of the word "orphan" about how we act when we don't remember God's love for us is totally grating me. and I think this is why. someone help me develop or correct this thought!?! I just don't want people to overspiritualize the word orphan to describe how we sometimes act. bleh. I get it...but I feel unsure about it and unnerved all at once. bleh.

2) this is probably where I could get into trouble. but in wealthier contexts we have to try a little harder to identify with parts of scripture that talk about needs of the poor, and because of that, I think we can sometimes read into something a little too far. or at least we can forget and undercommunicate that the Bible is (also?) talking about actual physical poverty. in other words, I totally agree that Jesus wanted us to see that we are spiritually poor. but sometimes when we overemphasize the spiritual side, to help people who are materially wealthy identify with the content, we mistakenly ignore the physical side that Jesus was definitely also talking about. sometimes Jesus is only talking about physical poverty and we're not supposed to identify with the verse, we're supposed to understand and do something about it. "I was an orphan too before God adopted me" is true, but it doesn't mean you understand what it is like. (Obviously at churches on "orphan sunday," people are going to talk about the need to care for kids who are physically orphaned...but this has been on my mind a lot so I wanted to take some time to try to explain.)

I'm sooooooooo thankful that our congregation will participate in this kind of service. and I'm so thankful for the organizations that provide resources to help people think about issues faced by so many people in the world. I hope my caution doesn't communicate a lack of gratitude for or understanding of the need to draw attention to these important stories... I just figure in this pretty safe space where most of you read this because "defending the fatherless" is on your mind, that perhaps communicating these things on the front end can help us as we think about preparing for the services.

please talk back to me on these things. tell me ways you've wrestled with these issues too. rules you've made about talking about your kids, if at all (don't worry, I won't feel super judged. I know God leads people in different ways). tell me how you feel about potentially overspiritualizing words like orphan, poor, hungry.

love and pride can occupy the same spaces

yesterday at church felt like one of the many hard mornings during the last (and ridiculously painful) stretch of waiting time last fall. as we painfully waited for Isaiah to be with us. I'm not sure why, really. I've been increasingly emotional lately, thinking about Isaiah's story. though his story is of course personal and unique, part of it is also a story shared with millions of people around the world.

he didn't have a family.

I know, I know. He was always part of ours. and I really feel that way. and God was always with him, even when he was alone. That is not cheap encouragement. I think it is a necessary and helpful reminder. But if it is supposed to make the reality of orphanhood, for Isaiah or anyone else, somehow more palatable. or if it leads us to be complacent about the millions of kids around the world who don't have families:

no. thank. you.

yesterday morning our church recognized Compassion Sunday, where we heard testimonies from people who have sponsored kids through Compassion International, to help pay for school fees, medical bills, food, etc. I was feeling a little bit vomity (thinking about the reality of people Isaiah and we remember, who are still living at Home of Hope, people I know around the world who live and work in extremely difficult and painfully impoverished areas, who deeply love people who really don't have enough to eat. who really don't have access to the basic necessities of life. people whose life expectancy is unjustly and unfathomably lower than ours just because they were born someplace different than me. people who literally prostitute their children because otherwise they can't buy food to feed the kids they love. kids, of course, who can't imagine that there is a God who loves them... or else why would their life look like this.)

it was bad enough just imagining some of those stories that I'm all too familiar with, and then one of our friends said 'we're going to watch a video now to hear more about the lives Compassion International is touching.' I was already starting to cry and I looked at Hunter and desperately mumbled something like, "I've got to get out of here. this isn't going to be good."

and I bolted. I made a beeline for the back of the room where I watched and, as silently as possible, cried soft, broken, mama bear tears over the lives of precious kids who don't have families.

Isaiah's story could have been different. or, at least, lots of other beautiful, amazing, made-in-God's-image kids' lives are really painfully different. because of really sad, unjust things.

Let me pause for a second. If you've been around this blog for a while, I won't have to remind you of my enormous struggles with pride and self-righteousness when it comes to being a mommy of an incredible Rwandan kiddo. If there is a chance to pervert something beautiful God gave to me (love of the marginalized and sometimes forgotten), I did it and I do it. I've been known to awkwardly steer conversations to let people know that we have an adoptive son from Rwanda, hoping they'll think well of me. (vomit) In my worst moments I've felt like everyone should adopt (and that isn't the case) and I've hoped that no one else around us would adopt (so I can feel special and superior). I am so ashamed of the ways I've been prideful, selfrighteous and ungracious.

and yet, "love and pride can occupy the same spaces" sometimes. that's a line from a Sara Groves song that is in this video we made for Isaiah. what a great description of my life as it relates to these issues.

I'm so thankful for the ways God has given me a measure of his thoughts towards those who are poor. that they are deeply loved, beautiful, dear, gifted, valued, equal. I'm so thankful for how he has given me a measure of his thoughts about injustice and the poor: that He is close to the brokenhearted. that he will hear their cries. that he will punish the wicked. that He wants his people, US!, to intervene. that he wants us to defend the cause of the fatherless and widow. to break the yolk of oppression. to live simply so others can simply live. that he sent his son to die so that one day, every tear will be wiped. and there will be no more hunger, sadness, brokenness, prostitution, orphanhood, death, mourning.

as I pray that he continues to open my eyes to his compassion, to seeing the world as he sees it, asking him to help me weep over what he weeps over. I pray that he will give me a greater measure of his grace that will keep me humble, gentle, respectful, loving, forbearing and full of grace.

because I want these real things to be heard. truths about injustice. pain. suffering. brokenness. and I feel like the way I talk, not seasoned or deeply marinated enough by grace and humility, gives people legitimate reasons not to listen.

tribute to our dad

Our dad was the recipient of the 100th anniversary Boy Scouts of America Distinguished Citizen award for the region we live in, and last night was the dinner and awards ceremony. A few weeks ago my sisters and I decided to touch base with the event organizers to see if we could surprise our dad by giving a short tribute during the ceremony. We were so grateful that they allowed us to do that. It was a really memorable time. There were so many more things we could have said about him, but they told us we had 3 minutes and (shhhhh) I knew this was at least 4. so we had to stop somewhere. enjoy reading about our wonderful dad!

Good evening, my name is Adrianne Thompson and I am the very proud daughter of Ron Vodenichar. I am number three of four daughters in our family. So in several ways, it is no small feat that, of all the organizations out there-- after raising only girls--our dad is being honored by the Boy Scouts.

It is an enormous privilege to get to honor and thank our father publicly. Not many of us have the chance to do that, so thank you to the organizers of tonight’s event for making space for me to say a few words. My three sisters and I worked on this together over email, and I have the tough job of trying to speak our thoughts without crying.

There are actually two sayings that I'd like to highlight tonight as I talk about our dad. They center around two things that we all know he loves deeply: God and sports. The first comes from the Bible and goes like this "to whom much is given, much is to be expected." We believe that God has richly blessed our father in many ways, and those blessings have made him the man he is today.

The first gift our father received was the nuclear family into which he was born. The wonderful mother who raised him from the age of 12 is here tonight, his father and mother are surely proud of him in heaven, and his 11 brothers and sisters have been so loyal and a source of great support and joy to our family through the years.

Secondly, God gave our dad our mother as his wife, helper and partner in life. She is the kind of woman who sees the LORD in the most broken of people and places, and she treats everyone--someone with a position of power and the least of these among us--with dignity, trust, respect, and, of course, a little bit of sass.

Finally, God gave our dad his fair share-- perhaps more than his fair share-- of gifts and skills that make him the man he is: a sharp mind, determination, faith, and a beautiful story from growing up that make him compassionate, generous, hard working, humble and hopeful.

So again, as we think about those wonderful, numerous gifts our dad received, there is a sort of flipside: To whom much is given, much is to be expected. I don’t know if many of you know this, but our dad was actually pretty sheepish about receiving this award, and part of that is because he feels like he’s only lived appropriately based on the cards he was dealt. And of course he isn’t satisfied with how much he’s served. He is overwhelmed with emotion every year at Christmastime, wondering how to share more of the blessings that we have. And that kind of humility and dissatisfaction-- longing to serve more-- are two of the things we love and respect most about him.

The second expression is a sports saying that goes like this "champions are made when no one else is around." The same can be said of servants or distinguished citizens. In the verse "to whom much is given, much is expected," the critical word tonight, I think, is expected. You see, though so many of us have been given so much, not as many of us have followed through. Not many have tried to live up to that expectation.

And there's a reason for that. Like I already said, servants are made when no one else is around. The life of a servant is hard and often thankless. While many of us will be inspired and moved tonight, hearing about a life well lived, few of us will be inspired enough to do the sometimes monotonous, slow, thankless, humble work that is at the heart of a true servant. That is at the heart of our dad.

A few examples: for many years, our dad taught the boys Sunday school class at church. They weren't all the same age, but the thing that united them was that they were tough, restless, bored with the Bible, and not very teachable. Oh, and driving all the female Sunday school teachers crazy. But our dad faithfully served them every week. And he loved it. He brought them brownies, made the conversation relevant and tried his best to point them to the God he serves.

Secondly, at our father’s initiation, our family hosted many people from international exchange programs, ranging anywhere from 2 weeks to an entire year. Many people are willing to serve if it is in a way that is compartmentalized and not too sacrificial; not many serve when the hospitality is that lengthy and invasive of space. Especially not when, at one point, it meant hosting another 2 females, when he was already so outnumbered.

While there are many much larger scale acts of service that are notable about my dad, that have already been listed tonight, those oftentimes carry with them their own reward (like thoughtful awards and recognition like this.) But it is the things like teaching boys Sunday school, week in and week out, bringing his family along with him to serve pancakes at Rotary election day breakfasts, providing warm, generous hospitality to folks through international exchange programs, serving dinner at Katie’s kitchen, regularly bringing the family to sing together at assisted living facilities, ringing the bell for the salvation army, making dinner for our dear 90-year old friends, the Parvises, those kinds of smaller, mustard-seed-like, anonymous or prolonged acts of service are what really make up the heart of a servant. And those are the kinds of things that make us most proud of our father.

My time is short so let me end by repeating: Daddy, to whom much is given, much is to be expected. And my sisters and I have no idea how we can live in a faithful manner anywhere close to proportional to the gift you have been to us. We are so thankful and so proud. Congratulations daddy.

walk4water and Isaiah's tummy

tomorrow morning, friends of ours in Lancaster are hosting a walk to promote awareness about unclean water in Rwanda. 4-more, the organization that planned the event, exists to find ways to provide all that we take for granted (family, water, life, love) to children who are orphans in Rwanda. One of the founders, Laurel Greer, is a friend and fellow adoptive mama. she's the jam. She and 3 best friends started this organization. ummmm, yes please.

to personalize it, though, today we're starting another round of treatments for Isaiah's stomach issues. 4 antibiotics and a fifth medicine for reflux. we've been home for 7 months and he still has giardia (a water born parasite that causes stomach pain and lots of beyond disgusting diapers. no really, you have no idea how yucky unless you've "been there.") he's had other parasites, too, over the past 8 months.

even sadder than that, this summer I realized more of the extent of Isaiah's digestive issues. it is all interrelated. We've been told that because of his nutrition (because while the sisters do EVERYTHING they can for the kids at Home of Hope...their food/water situation isn't healthy or enough.) anyway, because of what he ate and drank for the 21 months he lived at Home of Hope (and probably what he had before that too) we've been told it will take years for his digestive system to recover. and it might not ever function properly.

This summer the combination of his digestive and emotional issues nearly overwhelmed me. While I was at my adoption wife, Susie's, house (LOVE HER), Isaiah and Lucy stayed in the same room as me. I started hearing Isaiah throw up a little bit pretty regularly. He would throw up in his mouth and then swallow it down. I had noticed this habit before, but he never spit and he's always on the move so I didn't realize how often it happened. I didn't think it was that big of a deal. But after hearing it happen several times within 10 minutes, I said to him, "Isaiah, do you want to spit it out?" and he nodded his head furiously. He ran to the bathroom, spit it out and then walked out with this HUGE grin on his face. He ran over to the bed, gave me a kiss and said, "thank you mommy. Ndagukunda." and he repeated each step: throw up, communicate that he needs to spit, spit, huge grin, "thank you mommy Ndagukunda" until after 10:30 pm. at least 10 times.

on the 9 hour car trip home, he threw up over 20 times into a cup I gave him. it was awful.

now I notice that he throws-up 5-10 times after most meals and snacks. sometimes he remembers to spit it out and sometimes he doesn't. some foods make it worse (we're gluten and dairy free) but it never is absent. it isn't just reflux, but we're starting those meds too to see if it helps some.

kids shouldn't throw up in their mouths or if they do, they should realize that it isn't normal. and they shouldn't think they should swallow it.

walk for water, friends, so that kids don't have to walk MILES for water that looks like this.

so that kids don't have to have stomach pain. So that kids don't throw up in their mouths and swallow it down. so that life expectancy (and enjoyment) in Rwanda is at least a little more just.

photos, songs, blah blah blah

I made this little video on my birthday (a few days ago), which was the date last year when we received our approval (from Rwanda) to adopt Isaiah. ah the memories. seriously, not sure when I got hit with the sap bug...but it is out of control. Please notice that when the line "love and pride can occupy the same spaces" comes, there is a picture of Hunter and me. it should just be me. how true is that statement? God is teaching me and changing me, I hope. And I love the line "if we go looking for offense, we're gonna find it." pretty darn true, huh?

a year ago right now were the times when I was up most of the night starting at 3 am, knowing that MIGEPROF was open for business and might email me our referral. well, actually, I had already struggled with that for a few months, but the next 2 1/2 months were the most intensely painful and gut wrenching ones I've experienced in life so far. I'm so thankful for the ways God has shaped me through the wait and through having Isaiah in our family. but it wasn't and isn't easy.

Praying for the waiting families, especially Rwanda ones. love you all!

thankful

So, I actually wrote a different post earlier today. perhaps some of you read part of or all of it. I decided to remove it for various reasons. But I want to share a few things about the last several days for me, since I posted my last (serious) post.

here's the reader's digest version. and below you'll find the longer version.

reader's digest:

when I/we post or share pictures of ourselves, most of us like to share the ones where we think we look our best. sometimes the picture doesn't even really, accurately look like us. but we look good. that's the way I usually live my life. trying to look, sound, appear good. here's picture a)

but then we always blow it. and sometimes it is nice to admit that we aren't that pretty. that a lot of times we can be really ugly, actually. So the reality is I usually look like this (not 9 months pregnant, but you know):

but Jesus is making me beautiful. in the important kinds of ways.

The longer version of things I've learned this week:

• I wish my thoughts, ideas, faith and passions were more grace saturated. That when God leads our family to things, I wouldn't be threatened by or insecure because of other (different) approaches to life. I wish I would instead delight in the Creator who gifts people to serve Him very differently and very beautifully. Even the way I talk about longing (and calling others) to not be judgmental has a tone of judgment instead of a tone of grace and humility. pray with me that God will really soften all of me. I read a recent post from some sort of friends (you know, this weird adoption blogging world) and as they talked about why their family is adopting again, they said it in such a wonderful way. first talking about the ways many of their other friends have been called to other beautiful things. sincerely enjoying the variety and differences. and then they confidently but not-at-all arrogantly talked about the direction God is leading their family. oh that God would work gentleness, humility and grace into my life in this particular way.
• The way we handle talking about and living the callings on our lives matters. If you're familiar with 1 Cor 13, Adrianne = clanging cymbal and resounding gong. I'm so thankful (and of course broken and feel like vomiting) by the openness of several friends who, after reading my most recent post, have already tenderly and graciously shared with me that, indeed, because of the ways I sometimes act and think, our friendship has sometimes been painful for them. they felt the very things I feared they might have felt. I'm so humbled by people being willing to love me despite the ugliness that's so often present in me. it is new to me to be this vulnerable and in need of real forgiveness in friendship. it is hard. but I bet it will be worth it.
• I'm not alone. several sensitive friends wrote to me (or talked to me) sharing about how, though they haven't adopted, they've thought and acted similarly about other choices in their own lives. who they vote for. where they shop (thrift store, consignment, Target, high end, etc.) what foods their kids eat. whether they garden or CSA. what preschool their kids attend. whether they work or don't work as a mom. what church they go to. what kind of house they live in. and on and on. I am hoping that through these conversations, we'll learn to love each other better and learn to love the God who intentionally and beautifully made us all differently. certainly I need to learn that.
• there's a way to share your junk that lets Jesus and his unbelievable grace and forgiveness become central and a way to share your junk that positions you as central. and I need to learn the difference. I'm so glory and attention/approval hungry that if I can make my identity be "the best sin admitter ever", I'll take it. praying Jesus will become more central in every way for me.
• Letting your junk out there for the world to see and examine is really scary. showing my real (sometimes) self is terrifying and freeing all at the same time. while I feel pretty terrified that people don't have to (and this week I feel like they shouldn't want to) be my friend. I'm delighting in and feeling surprised and joyful because of the Father's love for me. what an unfair thing?! I get all the treasures of heaven, even though I've tried to steal glory from God. I've not loved His children well. I've failed to delight in the presence of His image on everyone he made. And yet, I get everything that Jesus deserved. and he got death and separation from God. I'm reminded that when I was an enemy of God (a lot of the ways I still act), Jesus died for me. even though I have such an ugly heart a lot of the time, Jesus is standing at the right hand of God telling him that I can't be punished for my ugly sins because he already paid for them. He's showing the Father His wounds, proving my righteousness before God.

Oh may that deeply change my heart and my behavior. may it make me quiet when I should be quiet. and vocal when I should be vocal. may it cause everything I say and do to be saturated by that same grace. may it make me encourage others to see the beauty of God in them. may it make me think of myself less often. may it allow me to receive forgiveness and not lose sleep over my reputation. may it help me love others more than I love myself.

happy birthday to me. :)

nearly overwhelming

what I said before we met him:

• When we meet him I'm going to RESTRAIN myself as much as possible. I'm actually hoping the sister who brings him to us won't be holding him and won't try to put him in my arms. I mean, of course I'm DYING to hold him, but I'm hoping we'll get to give him the chance to call the shots a little bit. Feel a little more comfortable in the first moments we have with him. If he was younger I wouldn't be as worried about this...but since he's older, I imagine this is going to scare the crap out of him and I want to be as gracious about it as we can.

what I felt while he approached us for the first time (one of my favorite simple lines in a book ever):

• the temptation to cuddle [him] was nearly overwhelming

what actually happened

I guess more accurately I should have said that the temptation to cuddle him was completely overwhelming.

and it still is.

adoption righteousness

Sometimes I provide warnings at the beginning of my posts. usually that means I'm about to confess my junk. The warning is there because, for whatever reason, people may not want to read it (it may lead you to have a lower opinion of me, yourself, or it make you feel really conflicted and confused. Or all of the above.)

consider yourself warned.

So, I was listening to this sermon from Tim Keller yesterday. I think it was the third or fourth time I've listened to this particular sermon. it is that good. it is on the passage in Luke 18: 9-14 where Jesus tells a story about two men who are praying. the one is a Pharisee (religious leader) and he basically prays about how awesome he is. let's make sure we're tracking. he prays about how awesome he (himself) is. while talking about how relatively terrible other people are. and that's his whole prayer.

the other person is a tax collector, who can barely even hold up his head because of his shame. He only prays for God's mercy and forgiveness, knowing his unworthiness before God. The tax collector leaves justified and the Pharisee does not.

There is a ton to say about this story. but most of you come here to think and talk about adoption, so I'll limit my thoughts to something Keller said that ruined me in a good way. Just so you know, the same approach could be applied in regard to public schooling/home schooling, urban living, church planting, etc.

The passage actually starts out "To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down upon everybody else".

ouch already. He might as well have said “To Adrianne Thompson.”

I'm not sure if you've struggled with this as much as I have. but when I follow God to something He's called us to—perhaps especially something like adoption that leads us to a place where we receive attention (that may be good or it may be bad. but in our situation it is certainly not avoidable.) anyway, when God shows me something in particular that I should do, so commences the "look down on everyone who is not doing it that way so I can think better of myself" ugliness.
In the sermon on this passage, Keller notes something interesting that I've never seen. He calls it cultural imperialism. In the story, the Pharisee starts listing why he is better than other people: he doesn't rob (that's in the Bible). he doesn't commit adultery (that's in the Bible). he doesn't steal (that's in the Bible). he tithes (that's in the Bible). but then there is this really interesting thing that happens. The Pharisee slips something in to his, otherwise Biblically accurate, (though unhealthy in self exaltation and he probably minimizes the sins) list. He says: I fast twice a week.

Now perhaps God told him to fast twice a week. So maybe it was an act of obedience. But by placing it here, in a laundry list of To Dos (or not to dos) where he’s comparing himself at every point with people who he is saying are inferior to him, he is “sneaking it in to the divine will” in order to make himself feel better than other people.

Keller says that “if you are not glory satiated in the center of your being. If you are not filled with a sense of approval in your heart. If you are not utterly sure of who you are. If you do not feel so incredibly valued and loved. Then you’re going to do this too.”

And I have.

So often I have taken things I think God has shown our family to do: adopt, move into the city, participate in a church plant, confess sin somewhat widely, etc. and moved them into the divine will (which means I mistakenly think and/or communicate that if they (whoever they are) were really trying to serve God, they would do them too). Sometimes, because of that, I try to encourage others to follow us and to do the same things we do (thinking that's pointing them to Jesus). And sometimes I hope they won’t so that I can continue to feel special/better than other people. My sin tendencies are confused and plentiful.

both ways are inaccurate and squelch the Spirit's creativity, power and distinctiveness in the lives of believers.

Let me pause to say that it might not actually be super obvious (to you or to others) if you struggle with this. Ask God/the Spirit to help you to know. To search your motives and your heart. Most people wouldn’t easily catch me communicating these ugly things directly. I usually say the right thing (God makes us all differently, gives us different gifts and intends for us to express them in varied ways). But the issues are there if you dig beneath the surface. And it matters. I believe that subtle sins (especially when connected to moral behaviors/self righteousness) are so often the most dangerous and damaging kind.

So what does this really mean? When examined, I’ve realized that so often it isn’t God’s way that I commend to people (which is so much more unpredictable and beautifully varied in its expressions). It is my way that I commend.

Even in my last post while I was trying to point people to look to Jesus to lead their families, I also listed activities for which I want people to think well of me (adoption, considering a move to Rwanda, church plant, etc.) Though I really, honestly want to point others to follow Jesus, I’m sure that on most days I want that to look just like the ways he leads me. so I can feel important, affirmed, influential. Actually it is probably people’s prayers for me after reading that post that are causing me to have a softened heart and better understanding of my sin. And to ask for forgiveness.

I’m almost done, I promise.

Just to make sure I don’t leave this objection out there without some response. While the Bible isn’t clear about the fasting twice a week rule (which is part of why the Pharisees' list is a problem), the Bible obviously says TONS about caring for the widow and orphan.

No question: God commands us to care for the widow and orphan. But some people literally think every Christian, especially in the US, should be adopting (which isn't what the Bible says). Those of us who aren’t so zealous, though, maybe think we're in a better place. but are we merely paying lip service when we say “not everyone should adopt. There are lots of ways to help care for widows/orphans. The important thing is to be somehow engaged?”

When I call it lip service, I guess I’m trying to say that when we say, “not everyone should adopt but all should care,” in our heart of hearts, if we’re willing to look deeply enough, that's not the whole story. some of us also think there is a moral superiority continuum. And those who adopt are at the top.

Maybe that’s too strong. I know a lot of you have purer hearts than me and I think a lot of my adoption friends sincerely can encourage and inspire people about adoption without having negative thoughts attached. But I fear sometimes it is not too strong to suggest that, for many of us, we look down on people who aren’t led the same way we are.

When we allow ourselves to think these things and suggest these things indirectly (or directly) in the ways we communicate, we put up barriers in relationships with everyone around us. And we misunderstand and miscommunicate the Gospel.

I don’t have to go further than my brain and heart to wonder why some people really hate Christians. Even the ones who adopt.

So the Bible says tons about caring for widows and orphans. And it also says a lot about thinking more about someone else’s spiritual blindspots and sins than your own. I just forget that part a lot.

PS. Keller’s examples are worth listening to: he mentions church (denominational, worship-style) superiority. Totally worth your time. Fast forward to somewhere around 18 minutes to go straight to this part if you want.

PSS. we're never going to be perfect this side of the Kingdom of God. however, confessing these sins really does lead to healthier relationships, purer motives, etc. So, while I'm partly discouraged by my yucky heart, I'm thankful the Spirit is working.

what about Lucy? what about what's best for her?!

But what about Lucy? What about what's best for her?!

This was one of the questions we were asked several times from a number of people when we decided to adopt. And it was a question we were asked when we tried to move to Rwanda. And it is a question we are asked as we continue to love to live in an urban (let's just say very few people regard it as safe) neighborhood. And it is a question we're being asked now that we're committing to participate in a new church in the city (instead of going to a church where there are tons of kids her age and programs all ready to suit her needs.)

And it is a question we'll be asked when, in a few years, we'll be making the choice about where she'll go to school. and if we'll adopt again. and what extracurriculars she'll do. and on and on.

Of course the manner in which the person asks the question betrays their opinion about the appropriateness or rationale of our family's decision. But--and it might surprise you that I think this--since we are meant to spend a lot of energy, time and prayer raising our children, they are actually asking a valid and very good question. A question every parent needs to consider when making a major decision.

What is and what will be our response?

Well, my first answer appears to contradict what I just said above. That is, that in some ways we're not really that concerned about what's best for Lucy.

Don't get me wrong--like I already said, we believe that God has called us to raise our children well. To cherish them appropriately. But how does he tell us to do that? To shield them from all potential risk? To seize every opportunity available to them? To try to order and control the variables in their lives as perfectly as possible?

Of course we care and we want to raise her well, but I think that means doing all we can to raise her to follow the LORD. To put Him first. To learn to defend what he defends. To weep over what he weeps over. It says in Deuteronomy that we're to teach our children to love the LORD with all our heart and soul and might. And if our choices are always child-centric (or parent-centric. or best-education-centric, or safety-centric, or anything-besides-God-centric), I wonder how they would learn that?

I guess what I'm saying is that I hope and pray our parenting will demonstrate for her that we should always follow wherever it seems like God (the center of our lives) is leading us to go, regardless of whether that fits her, Isaiah's or our best interests.

But, you might astutely ask,wouldn't God's will be her best interest?

Which leads me to my preferred answer to this question.

So on the one hand, to the question "what about what's best for Lucy?" I'd say, her best interest is not really our primary concern when we make decisions. Hopefully our primary concern is trying to discern God's will (not that this process is an easy one!). Lucy's best interests, then, become part of the discernment process. just not the discernment process.

On the otherhand perhaps it would be best to answer a question with a question. "well, what do you mean by Lucy's best interests?" I think we'll find that people define that term in profoundly different ways. Lucy's best interests absolutely shape many of our choices, just perhaps from a different angle.

Sure, we know that international adoption means that you will not know (maybe ever?) the extent of the needs of your new child. They could be considerably more needy than we feel prepared to, or agreed to handle. It is absolutely true that since Isaiah came home I have (academically speaking) taught Lucy nothing. NOTHING. the girl is a sponge and we read a lot, but Isaiah's needs, in every way, have trumped getting out the letters, games, puzzles, and whatever else makes sense for me to try to teach an almost three year old. For a number of reasons, Lucy's "new experiences" have been limited since Isaiah came home. So if we're defining Lucy's best interests narrowly, like "what will best develop her academic side?" "or what would be least risky for a sibling for Lucy," everyone would agree that adoption would be a terrible choice.

Just looking at the question related to adoption (and not moving to Rwanda, participating in a church plant, living in an inner-city neighborhood--though each of these have beautiful consequences too), when I hear stories from adoptive families like the following ones, I'm convinced that we at least at some level have Lucy's very best interests in mind:

• One friend's caucasian son was taking a bath with his Rwandese sister and said "we look like twins because we are both naked and our hair is wet". the picture was priceless, as was the mom's follow-up comment: "kids should rule the world."
• In response to a similar question, our friend, the father in an adoptive family (one of the 10-kids-in-the-family variety) said something like this "well, our kids had to learn that not only do we not go to their practices (like most parents, apparently). but we're lucky if we make it to some of their games or performances. they learned pretty quickly that the world doesn't revolve around them. that's probably decent parenting, right?" In a culture where people a lot smarter and deeper than me would say that children have become our culture's (American Christian culture's too) idol (the thing people worship and disproportionately revolve their lives around), what a great way to have their children's best interest in mind.
• One friend whose door to adoption just closed again, cried (even harder than she already was) when she realized she was going to have to tell her daughter, who (because of how her eyes have been opened to the world, mainly through adoption) just wants to adopt so badly her heart is practically popping out of her middle school body. Her mom just couldn't bear to break the disappointing news. Seems like, though remarkably sad, she's parenting pretty well and has her daughter's best interest in mind. (And, of course, it seems like her middle school daughter has her priorities pretty well aligned that this is the nature of the confrontation her mom is nervous about!)
• A friend's four year old son is saving up change to send to Rwanda for clean water so his brother and his brother's friends (like Isaiah) won't have bad tummy problems.
  

and now to us.

Lucy, Isaiah and I were walking over to a friend's house last week. Lucy and I were holding hands and I reached for Isaiah's hand to cross the street. He ran around my legs and grabbed Lucy's hand instead. When, in that moment, Lucy looked up at me with shimmering eyes and said, "Mommy! I think he loves me!!" I felt like I had her best interests in mind.


And when she prays for kids at Home of Hope in Rwanda to have families, I feel like we had her best interest in mind.

and when we together say "thank you God that we have clean water and it doesn't take mommy all day to get it." and she knows what I'm talking about. I feel like we had her best interest in mind.

and when my kids shout Ndagukunda ("I love you" in Kinyarwanda) over and over and over again to each other in their room, I feel like we had her best interest in mind.

and so on.

how can we possibly know how God wants to shape our children? we don't know what their best interest is, but their Creator does. All we can do is seek to follow Him wherever he leads us so he can teach us and shape us along the way. sometimes he will lead us to make radical, noticeable choices. and sometimes he will lead us to make quiet, inconspicuous ones. God is much more interesting than one size fits all.

Wish I could stop there, but my conscience tells me I can't. So, you might say, what if our experience hadn't been like that. what if Lucy had resented him. what if Isaiah had been abused/abusive. what if our difficulties with adoption had been much more profound. There are plenty of stories out there like that. Does that mean we didn't hear God right?

well, I can't fairly say anything besides "I don't know how I would have felt." because that wasn't our experience. I'm sure it would be remarkably difficult. but I hope I would remember that the bible has a ton to say about how suffering produces endurance and endurance produces character and so on. If it seems pretty clear that God wants us to do something (which in this case it did seem that way), far be it for me to protect my children from learning what God wants to teach us/them through potential suffering. The opposite lesson wouldn't be great for them either, which, I guess is that we only follow Jesus when it appears safe, convenient, knowable, easy.

and then I hope I would look, in my sorrow, even more longingly for the day Jesus is going to make everything right.

because God's ways are so much higher than ours, may we trust Him to order our lives. to guide us. to know what is really in our best interest. and may we follow him and show our children how to follow him. no matter what.

(P.S. obviously I'm talking about Lucy in this post, since before we adopted Isaiah, most people weren't asking about his best interest (we didn't know him in particular). But surely everything we've mentioned relates to him as well going forward. And, of course, if we replaced Isaiah's name for Lucy's in this story we would all start sobbing when we realize how tangibly heart breaking the reality of a narrow approach to someone's best interests can be for a kid who doesn't yet have a family. I think it is fair to confidently say that this was in Isaiah's best interests).

PSS if you have any personal family/friend stories to share about adoption being in people's best interest, please share them. they encourage me so much!!

sweet lucy goosey

Dear Lucy:
I just want to tell you something before I forget. you have done an unbelievable job loving your brother. I completely take for granted how smoothly his transition has gone as it relates to you.

I think you loved him before he even came home. One day before we got his referral I was sitting at the lunch table with you. I couldn't stop myself from crying (as you'll remember, there were a lot of days like this). And you tenderly touched my cheek and said "its okay mama. he's coming. we'll get him." Even though I tried to live fully present with you and daddy the last several months before he came home, I was preoccupied. But you didn't resent it. You loved him and wanted him home too.

Then we were gone from you for over two weeks to bring Isaiah home, and when we got home it wasn't like we could give you 100% attention because his needs needed to come first. and you never missed a beat. I keep waiting for a moment of resentment and it just isn't coming.

I love the way you still ask me if we can wake him up. "I neeeeeeeeed him" you tell me. If I give you a special treat you'll quickly say "what about Isaiah?" You don't want to do special mommy/daddy dates, you always want him to come too. If he gets hurt you very tenderly walk up to him and say, "it's okay Isaiah, I'm here. you okay brother?" He doesn't cry anymore when I drop you two off at the play area at the gym, but when you go to the bathroom while you're there, he sobs and sobs waiting outside the bathroom for you.

you adore him, which has made it all the more natural for him to adore you. who knows what it would have been like if you hadn't adjusted so well...all I can say though is that without proof, I believe your love for Isaiah, your gentleness towards him, the way you share everything with him, the way you always want him to be included in everything you do-- has transformed him. it has helped him to be able to share his things with others. you have helped him to feel more secure in our family.

you are the best of friends, and I believe it happened because you loved him first. it reminds me of the Father's love for us.

I love your sweetness, your sensitivity and the way you so gently yet firmly love others. I love being your mommy, goose.

all jokes aside

Isaiah walked out of our hotel room sometime during the early morning this weekend.
we woke up at 7am to a loud knock on our door.
Hunter scrambled out of bed quickly and started yelling "where's Isaiah" "WHERE'S Isaiah?!?!"
my heart only stopped for a few seconds.
And then Hunter answered the door and there stood our adorable younger and browner two year old standing with complete strangers. happy as could be.


ugh.

there are a lot of things this incident can teach us:

• the obvious: bolt, chain, etc. your doors you moron parents. in my defense. well, whatever. I don't feel the need to defend myself this minute. Unlike plenty of other things I pride myself in, being a safety-first minded mother isn't one of them.
• Isaiah doesn't understand boundaries. At All. I joke about how he's the kid who needs survival swimming lessons. but it is true. he is starting to fear the water a little bit now and I'm CELEBRATING. his pain tolerance is THROUGH THE ROOF. he got a 2 1/2 inch burn on his leg from touching a motorcyle and DIDN'T CRY. we didn't even know he burned it until the next day when his skin fell off exposing an (atleast) second degree burn. that he didn't cry is a bad thing, friends. it is bad because there was a long enough season in his life when he would cry when he got hurt and he didn't get the attention he needed. he learned crying doesn't do anything. and he stopped. he falls HARD on the sidewalk and doesn't even skip a beat or make a noise. I hate to be Debbie Downer about things I sometimes like to joke around about...but the reality behind Isaiah's high pain tolerance is brokenness and sometimes I can't just make jokes and smile about it. nodding in partial agreement because it is easier than "going there" in a conversation with a friend is sometimes kind to the friend...and other times emotionally lazy of me. (just to clarify, YES, there are some kids who just have a high pain tolerance. but there is a statistically significant high percentage of kids who lived in an institutional setting for whom that is the case...while Isaiah may have been tough no matter what. probably not this tough). also, the amazing folks, whom we pray for and love, who cared for him at home of hope do as much as they can with the human and otherwise resources they have. they wouldn't suggest that they're able to provide the care that children need. and neither will I.
• Isaiah isn't there yet regarding attachment. I hope his first thought when he woke up was "where are my parents"...and he didn't immediately see us (though he should have) and went outside the door looking for us. I really think that is possible. He is definitely preferring us (Hunter especially) to others these days. But there are definitely awkwardly over-the-top hugs and kisses to strangers. (which everyone else, of course, thinks is just adorable and awesome). So, there is definitely the chance that Isaiah just didn't really care when he woke up. he just figured he'd find someone outside the door to spend time with. and that it would be alright. I really hope that isn't the case.

I still feel like throwing up. but I'm so thankful nothing worse happened. I was really tempted to turn this story into a funny post...I'm glad I didn't.

Since this is turning into some kind of an update, you'll also be happy to know that:

• Lucy and Isaiah really do adore each other. they are the best of friends. they sometimes fight, of course. but really, it isn't the norm. especially when it is just us, they get along so well. they hug and kiss all the time.
• He's grown almost 4 inches!! almost all of this is since we went gluten free. I'm a believer.
• Isaiah's had diarrhea for almost three weeks straight now. I am soooooooooooooo freaking sick of the diaper situation. but then I remember it is probably way worse for him and he doesn't even come close to crying about it...so I stop complaining.
• except when we're traveling and he has an explosive diaper on the airplane. and I spend 30 minutes in the bathroom. in first class. twice. and then the same day have to change his clothes 4 times. and then the next morning was when he left our hotel room. then at breakfast he threw up on us 5 times. literally. so then I start complaining and crying again. all in all, they were troopers on the trip!!
• they're sleeping in the same room now!! they're so cute about it. Isaiah is especially thrilled about not being in the crib anymore. we'll make a real transition with beds sometime when I can get a single mattress for Lucy. until then, Isaiah's crib mattress is on the floor next to Lucy's toddler bed. and they are loving it. (I'll probably make the real switch sometime before our social worker visits us next week. I'll also probably clean for the first time in several weeks. but whose counting?)

so, there you have it. now you can look at these pictures of my children. which can make any hard day really wonderful. Enjoy!

nothing kills date night like...

It was all going so well. Sigh.

I should start by saying that Hunter and I aren't the mooshy kind of couple. we laugh hard together, we sharpen one another...but I don't think anyone has ever accused us of being too lovey dovey.

I should also tell you that a while back we made an unwritten rule about not going to nice restaurants by ourselves. The main reason being that we (I, really) feel the need to have really deep, wonderful, big picture conversations when we're in that kind of atmosphere. There's just too much pressure.

anyway, last night we didn't hold to that rule (in part because amazing friends of ours gave us a gift certificate to Mezzanine...Richmond's top restaurant of 2009). it was delicious.

the conversation was fabulous as well. having kids has made any date night (anywhere besides in the house) wonderful. We were catching up about how we really feel like things are going in the family. what our next few weeks look like. how to make space for each other to continue to grow (spiritually in particular).

Then we got to chatting about the content of Hunter's work. If you know me well, you should be giving me serious points right now. That isn't something I typically or naturally do well. I like talking about what makes people tick. What makes them make the choices they make. What they really dream about doing. Why they love or don't love something.

Further, my family didn't grow up talking about work. We are all so talkative and close, but somehow I went years without knowing what my sister did for a living. I suppose I could have told you her title but never really knew what that meant. When we first got married I felt threatened by all of Hunter's questions about my day.

So, anyway, as bad as this is, conversation about the nitty gritty of day-in day-out work is a little blah for me.

Not last night though. I was right there with him. engaged as could be.

(you can confirm w/HT if this is really right) but Hunter's job is basically to help people make hard choices about what projects and ideas can actually happen in the time frame they want...and what ideas/projects they want to do can't happen because of various constraints. The people he's working with have tons of great ideas. ideas out the wazoo. but, like in all of life, you have to make hard choices if you really want to finish anything well and on time.

and then he said it. and it ruined our date. and my last 18 hours.

"it is hard. I basically have to help people choose their children"

I think he talked for at least another minute (without me hearing a word) before my eyes started brimming and I said something like. "I'm sorry. I'm done. I can't concentrate anymore. I'm going to start crying really hard in a second so we should probably try to leave soon."

it is a harmless, well articulated analogy. perfectly describes what Hunter's job really is. totally appropriate verbage. but ruined me nonetheless.

You see, some people really do get to the point where they have to choose which children they can keep. their real children.

we have no information, so we can only wonder. did isaiah's birth mother have to do that? was it her family's devastating poverty that led to our enormous wealth: having Isaiah as our son? oh jesus please be merciful.

nothing ruins a date night like reality.
help us to weep, O Lord.

a quick, good, helpful, challenging read

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/worldview/blogs/22038-seeing-through-assumptions
this article is written by a friend of a friend.
here's the text:

Seeing Through Assumptions
Written by Lauren Dean
Wednesday, 23 June 2010 11:28

When my husband, Jamie, and I decided to begin the adoption process over a year ago, we knew people would have a lot of questions.

For starters, we knew people would wonder why we would choose to adopt before having biological children. In a society where passing on one’s genes through pregnancy is not only “normal” but almost worshipped, we figured they'd assume we were struggling with infertility or that I was too scared to birth a baby.

But we also knew people might think our adoption was a "safe" alternative to pregnancy because of Jamie's disability. Jamie was diagnosed at the age of 3 with a congenital eye disease called retinitis pigmentosa. His vision degenerated over time—starting from the periphery and moving in—until he had lost most of his vision by high school. He now has a small amount of tunnel vision in one eye, but sees only light/dark contrasts with the other eye.

I tried to anticipate these questions whenever I told someone for the first time that we had decided to adopt. I figured it would help me avoid being hurt by an offensive question later. I had a little speech that went like this:

"Did you hear Jamie and I decided to adopt? Yes, we are very excited. It is something we have both always wanted to do. We haven't even tried to get pregnant because we just really want to adopt. I have a cousin adopted from China who really touched my life. Jamie has always cared about justice for children. That’s what he'd ultimately like to be doing with his law degree. We do plan, God willing, to have a biological child or two in the future, but, for now, we have chosen to adopt."

Apparently, however, the speech didn't convince everyone as I found one day when I was discussing our adoption with a neighbor.

"So, I heard you are adopting because of Jamie’s disability," he said.

I politely cleared up the misinformation, and he seemed genuinely sorry he'd even brought it up. But I was still jolted. I didn't feel like anyone actually believed that we decided to adopt simply because we wanted to rather than being forced into it by some external factor. But even more concerning to me, it seemed nobody had considered what the logical implications would be if our adoption was solely predicated on Jamie’s disability.

We live in a society that often bases the significance of people on their ability to see, walk, hear and think. We forget that people are complex beings with many dimensions. While Jamie is a blind person, he is also a husband, lawyer, son, rower, brother, guitarist and uncle. He is intelligent, funny, passionate and tenacious. His blindness is only one aspect of his entire identity; it does not define him completely. Yet, society does not see him this way. Because he can't see, he is perceived as imperfect, abnormal and inferior.

When someone assumes we are only adopting to avoid having a child with RP, it implies that it would be understandable (perhaps even beneficial) if people like Jamie—people who can't see—didn't produce anymore people who can't see. The greater assumption is that our society would be better without people with disabilities. This line of thinking has, of course, inspired many evils in our world:

• the abortion of children found to have genetic disabilities while they are still in utero
• the abandonment of children who are born with a disability or develop one later in life (this is rampant China where the one-child-only policy encourages parents to aspire toward the "perfect" child)
• and, on a larger scale, genocide where those considered "different" are killed because they don't fit society's brand of "normal"
  

This rationale has also contributed to widespread discrimination against people with disabilities, giving rise to high poverty levels and high unemployment levels among the disabled population. It is no wonder most people in our society think being a person with a disability is hard, and thus a "plight" one wouldn't want to pass on to someone else. Our society—not the actual disability—has made it hard to be a person with a disability because of its disabling attitudes and prejudices. As I read recently, a person in a wheelchair can get around just fine until they encounter a building without a wheelchair ramp. Only then do they become truly "disabled."

Similarly, the assumption that we are adopting because of Jamie’s disability also negatively affects our future children. It implies our children are a second choice or last resort—an option we had to choose because we were too scared to risk having a biological child who is blind.

Recent statistics estimate there are around 150 million orphans in the world. Five to 6 million of those children live in Ethiopia—where our children will be from. One million of those children are currently in the United States foster care system. When people assume we are adopting because of Jamie’s disability, they are denying the basic truth that all of these children—and specifically our two children—are inherently deserving of a family. I never want my children to believe their existence in our family is predicated on anything but the simple collision of our desire to be parents and their right to have parents.

I realize many people ask questions out of genuine curiosity, and few of them mean to hurt or offend us with what they say. I need to have grace when my natural inclination is to defend my family. But I hope as people hear our story, they will see that people don't need an ulterior motive to adopt. I also hope they will see that Jamie will make an excellent father—and that his worth as a father, husband and human being isn't defined by his disability.

But most of all, I want people to see that the issues I have raised here go outside of our little family. There is a world of people out there who need us to stop making assumptions about them and start seeking the truth.

pap pap isn't sick anymore

My mom's dad (Pap Pap) went to be with Jesus today. We've known for a while that it was coming, as he's been in and out of the hospital a lot the last several years. After spending the last month at home, with the loving care being provided to him by his devoted wife and children, today he breathed his last breath. Just before he passed away, he had a trace of a smile on his lips directed at his beautiful wife, Beatrice. He was cherished by so many.

My mom, who with others was by his side, called about ten minutes later. I started crying immediately and after I got off the phone my ever sensitive Lucy came up and said "what's wrong mommy?" Up until that moment I hadn't known what we would tell her. She's so sensitive so I didn't want to give her too many details. and suddenly, perhaps right from the Spirit, the words came out so easily. "Mommy...what's wrong?" "Well, Lucy, guess what?!" I said with a genuine smile and transformed sad-to-glad tears..."Pap Pap isn't sick anymore! He's never going to be sick anymore! Isn't that wonderful?"

and it is.

"We love God's people. They are exceedingly precious. Far too often we look on their deathss as a grevious loss. If we could confer immortality we would never let them die. But it would be cruel to deprive them of a speedy entrance into their inheritance. We want to hold them here a little longer. We find it hard to relinquish our grasp, because the saint's departure causes us much pain. We are poorer because of the eternal enriching of the beloved, who have gone over to the majority and entered their rest.

Yet know this: while we are sorrowing, Christ is rejoicing. His prayer is, "Father I desire that they also, whom You gave Me, may be with Me where I am; that they may behold My glory which You have given Me' (John 17:24) In the advent of every one of His own to the skies, Jesus sees an answer to prayer. We are grieving, but He is rejoicing. Their deaths are painful in our sight, but 'precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints' (Psalm 116: 15).

Tears are permitted, but they must glisten in the light of faith and hope. 'Jesus wept' (John 11:35) but He never complained. We may weep, but not 'as those who have no hope' (1 Thess. 4:13). There is great cause for joy in the departure of our loved ones. Death itself is not precious; it is terrible. It cannot be precious to God to see the highest works of His hand torn in pieces, to see His skillful embroidery in the human body broken, defiled and given to decay. Yet to the believer, it is not death to die. It is a departure out of this world to the Father, and entrance into the kingdom" - Charles Spurgeon

"No chilling wind nor poisonous breath can reach that healthful shore. Sickness, sorrow, pain and death are felt and feared no more" from I am bound for the promised land.

Perhaps Jesus welcomed Pap Pap with his own version of a favorite Pap Pap greeting (as performed by my kiddos below.)

a word about waiting

You know what is really hard? When you've spent most of the morning crying, longing and every other form of "I want my child home yesterday" and someone with a kind but perhaps heedless smile casually says "you just need to be patient" or "you just need to wait on God's timing." Sure does hush you up pretty quickly, huh?

Don't worry, I'm not going to rant and rave. You see, it isn't that the individual is wrong in saying that (I mean, I guess sometimes people do say stupid, wrong things too..but that's another story). In this situation, though, they're right. We do need to be patient. We do need to trust God's timing. And yet, this advice usually doesn't get very far. it usually isn't very effective. And it usually doesn't feel very loving.

For many of you who walked with us during our wait for Isaiah, this won't be new news for you. The waiting was so hard. I mean haaaaaaaaaaaaard. Sometimes I felt relief from it, but a lot of times, especially in the last 5 or 6 months of the wait, it literally felt unbearable. Like I couldn't breathe, walk, sleep and certainly couldn't easily engage in conversations with friends. I was grieving. I want to say a little bit about it, because I know there are a lot of families out there waiting. longing. aching. and feeling like it is unbearable.

There are a lot of things I could say about the painful wait. True things like how the hardest days really did knit my heart closer to Isaiah's. Or like how God taught me so many rewarding lessons on faith, perseverance and patience. About how God really is good and faithful in the wait. But what I really want to write about is how we can help and support one another during the waiting (and how we can expect Jesus to help and sustain us).

I hope what I write won't feel trite or condescending to you. those kinds of comments were always the hardest for me to swallow.

There's a passage in John that tells us about the death (and miraculous resurrection) of Jesus's friend Lazarus. When Jesus arrives on the scene, Lazarus has been dead for four days. Lazarus's two sisters run to meet him, first Martha and then Mary. And they say the exact same thing. Word for word.

They both walk up to Jesus and say (perhaps with an accusatory tone, the same way I sometimes spoke to God during our wait for Isaiah) "Lord, if you had been here our brother would not have died." But though they said the exact same thing, Jesus's responses to two grieving sisters, only a few verses apart, are almost completely different.

When Martha (who was first) comes to him, Jesus sort of challenges her and says "I am the resurrection and the life." In a sermon I heard on these verses, Tim Keller says that Jesus was basically saying, "don't you know who I am?! It is never too late with me" He challenges her to put on faith. To remember Who she's talking to. To trust Him. He's essentially giving her the "God's timing is perfect" speech.

But then just two verses later, Mary says literally the exact same words to Jesus. "Lord, if you were here our brother would not have died." And what does Jesus say? "not a word. not a lecture. not advice. all he does is weep."

Why weep? Didn't Jesus, of all people, know it is going to be okay? Didn't he know, that even though he was (what at the time felt like) four days late, that God's timing is perfect? Of course he knew. He just reminded Martha of those exact things. But that doesn't take away the broken reality of the situation. That doesn't take away from the real pain of seeing his sobbing, dear friend, who loved her brother so much. He saw the brokenness and couldn't hold back his tears.

Keller says these verses point us to the reality that Jesus is equally committed to the ministry of truth and the ministry of tears. Jesus knows that a human being cannot survive without both. "Sometimes in order to grow and in order to make it, we absolutely need nothing. not a single word except for someone to sit down and weep with us...but sometimes what we need is, spiritually speaking, to be punched in the gut...But we don't need one or the other, we need them intertwined. The ministry of truth without tears is too brutal; we won't listen. And the ministry of tears without truth is too sentimental; we won't benefit."

I imagine you already see why I think this can relate to adoption. especially to the waiting part. I would suggest that the encouragement and communication we adoptive-families-in-waiting receive is sometimes tilted a little too far in the "truth without tears" camp. Obviously telling someone to be patient and wait for God's timing is not wrong and I don't want to suggest that it is! (especially via facebook and other places...It is tough to hold someone responsible for a quick comment on facebook meant to encourage us). But I do think there were a lot of times I couldn't listen during the wait. I really needed tears with truth. I was really really really really really struggling...and I needed to be dealt with extra gently for a season. Jesus knew that.

We had some good friends challenge us along the way and remind us that we were forgetting Who eventually is going to win the battle. They agreed the situation was terribly broken. They agreed that it was so hard. And they reminded us that our Savior is going to end all brokenness someday and that He knows Isaiah. That He will wipe away every tear.

But they said it after listening. After longing with us. After begging God for mercy. After crying.

If you're reading this and have friends waiting for their children, please please please be gentle, while speaking and praying truth. Treat your friends/family as though they are grieving, for in so many ways they are. Their children, who are far--way too far-- away, have been through (and are continuing to go through) really tough things. At this point every single child suffering in the world feels like their child. Isn't that beautiful? God is showing them, albeit so painfully, that we really are all brothers and sisters. And the disparity is killing them. It won't be fixed when their particular children come home. It won't be fixed until Jesus comes back. I know it isn't easy to be around folks who are so raw with emotion, I really felt like I was insane some days. But please love them gently. Please try so hard to love them.

To those of you waiting, let me encourage you that if you feel like you're consistently being given truth without tears, talk to your friends and family about it. Tell them that sometimes it is hard to only hear challenging words (as rich and true and necessary as they are) without sensing that they're meeting you in the muck. Meeting you in the brokenness that Jesus found painful enough that he wept.

Let me also caution us, that if friends are trying to meet you there, if they are broken over it with you...hear them out. ask the Spirit to help you receive comfort from the promises of God. to help you trust that Jesus is going to wipe every tear. that He's going to come back and fix it all. There were definitely times when there wasn't a right way to love me. I wouldn't be consoled and that was a terrible, lonely, sinful place.

I pray God will give you the grace you need to handle the waiting with hope, patience and grace.

(PS, ummm, how amazing is Jesus (and his Spirit) that He knows us so well as to respond to us so specifically like he did with Mary and Martha?)