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?)

Our Journey to Isaiah

The AMAZING Susie Thomas (my adoption wife) made this "Journey to Isaiah" video for us. and we absolutely LOVE it. I feel like it pretty perfectly captures Isaiah's entrance into our lives. I hope you enjoy it is as much as we do. oh, and I've watched it at least 30 times. Lucy knows most of the words to the songs...except she sings "ain't no river wide enough to keep me from getting to you baby brother." she seriously sang that tonight. without me ever singing it like that. and definitely thought those were the real words. I love her. (and, of course, I cried)

Thank you so much, Susie, for capturing the immense joy we've experienced with Isaiah in our family. God has given us such a wonderful friend in you. we love you.