Friday, August 15, 2014

love makes the world go 'round

And that love is about to catapult us, once again, to the other side of this world!

As I type, we are waiting on the FedEx man to deliver our LOA!!!!

Just one day after being match reviewed, it arrived in Birmingham!

If you're one of those out there bewildered by all the acronyms adoption people like me throw around, just know this.  The LOA (Letter of Acceptance) is THE ONE.  Quite simply, it's the paper that says China has reviewed our mound of paperwork and reviewed our little MK's file and has agreed that, yep, we're a good match.  She's all ours.  WOOHOO!!!



So now we get on a plane and go get her, right?

If only.

Because you know what the world needs more of?  

Paperwork.

Now things flip to the US immigration side of things.  We're down to a half dozen hoops to jump through, I think.  But we are very, very close to bringing our baby girl HOME in just a matter of weeks!

Coincidentally, today is the day we were going to launch our t-shirt fundraiser, believe it or not.  We weren't expecting the LOA until next week, so I guess God wanted us to have something to celebrate!  We have two designs to choose from!   The first was designed by none other than Mindy!  And it's so fitting.

ladies slim fit jersey knit v-neck
order one size up for a more relaxed fit
deep heather gray



mens/unisex/kids lightweight slightly fitted tee
asphalt gray for mens; slate gray for kids


Love really does make the world go 'round. 

Love makes the world a little smaller.

And love definitely makes it a whole lot better.

But you know what changes the world?  

Ask my eight-year-old.  

She called a family meeting last weekend.

It's crazy around this home of ours these days.  Early morning wake-ups with school starting and ruining my summer.  Closets have puked everywhere. Laundry is behind because the washer and dryer periodically decide to freak me out by not working properly and make me lose my mind. Projects are in progress and not anywhere close to being finished.  And it's marching band season. Apparently, we'd all been a little too grumpy to each other to suit her liking.  So, in true Caroline form, she set us all straight.  And we all sat there and blinked our eyes at her with conviction.  

Miss Caroline opened up her "Jesus Calling" devotional, read it to us and made her statement.



And hence a shirt was born.

Because she's right.  

She sure changed ours.


mens/unisex lightweight slightly fitted v-neck - black only




ladies slim fit jersey knit v-neck
order one size up for more relaxed fit
choose from red or black




kids lightweight slightly fitted tee
choose from red or black


Visit our shop page on 2000 tutus! to order yours!  
And thanks for being part of our story and helping us bring Mary-Kate home!


Wednesday, June 11, 2014

where the heart is - part two

It’s really quite something when we find ourselves in the middle of a God-sized story.  I think sometimes my procrastination in writing stems from my fear of not being able to do the story justice.  So many layers to our experiences and our emotions and our circumstances and how they are artfully woven into His plans.  At any rate, that combined with a burst of crazy in the old schedule and a to-do list long enough to cause adult onset of attention deficit disorder is enough for me to struggle with finding time to properly put this story into words.  Please forgive my delay. 

I left off at the moment I had received an email containing “Daphne’s” file.  I experienced a teensy bit of guilt before clicking to open the PDF.
­
The thought crossed my mind that perhaps I should wait until Jon got home from his day of meetings in Miami.  Maybe we should look at it together.

I’d bet this is the point where most adoptive moms would be shaking their heads and saying, “OPEN IT, ALREADY.”  So I clicked.  And scanned like a mad woman through detail after detail about this tiny baby girl.

Born early February.  Just a little thing. 

Jilin Province.  Never heard of it.

Right heart enlargement.  Treatment.  Medication. 

More acronyms and abbreviations than the Army uses.

PHOTOS. Sweet. She’s adorable!!



And then there it was. 

As I scanned back over the pages, it caught my eye.

And I knew she was ours.

“…and on February 5, 2013, she was abandoned…”

What might seem like a coincidence to others was nothing less than a neon sign for me.  This baby had been abandoned on the very day of the year that God chose for our sweet Caroline’s beginning in our family.  I know that there are many who have different views of the day they met their adopted children, but so far I know only of my one experience.  For me, for our family and for the families of ten other beloved baby girls, it was such a special beautiful day…one of endings and beginnings and redemption and crying and laughing and sweating and grieving and bonding.  In a way it was like we all linked arms, and it was understood that we were in it together from that moment on.  We were one big family, and we were forever changed.  Because of everything it means to all of us, good and otherwise, it is a day celebrated. 

The paradox of what that day means to us and the realization of what that day meant for this new little one was not lost on me.   Yet I knew it was what tied her to us.  And then the reality of her illness and the “what ifs” started creeping into my mind.

The phone rang, and it was my oldest daughter, checking in before heading home from college for the weekend.

“Hey, Mom.  Whatcha doing?”

“Well.”

“Well, what?  Are you okay?”

“Um.  I’m looking at a photo of the sweetest little baby girl.”

“Yeah.  And?”

By the tone of her voice, she wasn’t impressed.  She knows of my soft spot.  She knew that on occasion a photo on social media would capture my attention and make me wonder if it was “the one”.

“I’m actually looking over a file our agency sent us.”

“YOU’RE WHAT??!!  You got a referral??!!”

“Well, I’m not sure.  I mean…”

“SEND ME THE PICTURE.”



So I sent a quick screen shot.   And I told her a bit more about this baby.  She listened intently and then asked me what my hold up was, told me I was crazy for thinking twice and couldn’t wait to hear what her dad said.  Who, by the way, didn’t bat much of an eye before saying yes.  I imagine I looked like the proverbial cat that had swallowed the canary when he walked in the door from the airport.   Not to mention I was absolutely certain his analytical mind would trigger a lengthy discussion, numerous questions and a hefty amount of research before a commitment.  He was, after all, the one most reticent about another adoption.  Instead I got a hug and a “let’s do it.”

And here’s where I admit that I started to lose my mind just a little.  What on earth was wrong with me?   I’d been praying, asking, pleading, pouting, grouching, begging, waiting for this moment for years. 

Years.

A vision of what I imagined God had in store for us, the unlikely vision of a tiny baby girl with a broken heart, had been embedded deeply in my heart and soul for years. .  
Years.

I was well aware of waiting lists and the reality of the years it can take to receive such a specific request for referral. 

Years.

Right in front of me was exactly what God had prepared my heart for, and I was scared silly.  Scared that her heart defect was a little more than our family could handle.  Scared that I would say yes for my own selfish reasons.  Scared that this baby’s file would evaporate into thin air and another family would snatch it up.  

I must have looked at her photo a million times over the next few days.  I started allowing myself to believe she was real.  I fell in love with her eyes and her tiny delicate features.   I realized her heart, broken as it was, was precisely what grafted her into my own.  And I started to embrace my doubts and fears because I knew that was exactly where God would meet me and make this a story worth telling.

From there it was a matter of going through the motions.  Through a dear friend, we were able to share her file with a pediatric cardiologist who answered our questions.  A pediatric cardiologist from Riley, our local yet nationally renowned children’s hospital, who emailed us privately almost immediately. 

I began writing our Letter of Intent and gathering documents to submit. 

In the midst of my writing and gathering, I opened my “Jesus Calling” devotional.  I was a few days behind, so I went back and read from the day we got the call.  I was more than a little blown away by what I read.  Here are some excerpts.

December 5…the day I didn’t know we’d received “the call”.

”Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it.”

December 6…the day we received her file.

”Stay ever close to Me, and you will not deviate from the path I have prepared for you.”

December 7…the day I wandered around in a stupor, trying to ignore my fear of wondering if we were doing the right thing.

”I am with you in all that you do. “

December 8…the day I’d read a little too much on the internet about her heart defect.

“Your needs and my riches are a perfect fit.  I designed you to need Me not only for your daily bread but also for fulfillment of deep yearnings.”

December 9…the day we received our initial response from the pediatric cardiologist.

“Be willing to go out on a limb with Me.  If that is where I am leading you, it is the safest place to be.”

As if that weren't enough affirmation, God added a little extra flourish.

I was curled up on my bed, sharing these devotional “coincidences” with my daughter.  She was flipping through my Jesus Calling book as we were chatting.  All of a sudden she stopped. 

“MOM.  Get this.”

She’d looked up the devotions written for “Daphne’s” birthday and Caroline’s birthday.  The first line of each?

“I am with you and for you.”



Another coincidence?  A quick flip through all 365 days revealed that those were the only two entries that began with those exact words.  Not a coincidence in my book.

I wrote our social worker to tell her we were all in.  

Because in that moment I knew without a doubt where my heart was.  It was following the One who called me.  And it was waiting in China.


Monday, May 19, 2014

where the heart is - part one


So here’s where I write about how I had a baby in Wal-Mart and I didn’t even know it.  I mean, I know it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as Natalie Portman’s portrayal, but, for real.  Not only was I not expecting “the call” any time soon, I certainly didn’t anticipate it coming while I was on my first bread and milk run of the winter.  It was December 5th, a Thursday afternoon, and I was, after all, standing in a pre-snowstorm line at Wal-Mart, praying for a speedy exit in order to meet the school bus.  The first snowstorm of the season was upon us, and the frenzy was tangible.  "The call" was pretty much the last thing on my mind.  Little did we all know we’d be bored with the threat of an impending snowpocalypse by the end of this crazy winter.  I was scanning the items in my cart to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.  I glanced to see my Lifeline social worker’s name on the screen.  Considering my circumstances, it took a split second to make the decision to send the call to voice mail. 



“I’ll call her back later.”

If I’m honest, there was a little more to my avoidance of the call than just the ice and snow heading our way.  After years of impatiently waiting to officially start the adoption process again, I was a little dumbfounded by my own lack of initiative.  Maybe it was the time of year. Maybe it was my innate gift of procrastination.  For whatever reason, I’d been sitting on a blank pile of papers since we submitted our application to Lifeline back in October.

That evening I went about my business.  Ran my groceries home, scooped my second grader off the bus and into the car, carpooled kids from after school activities and even took advantage of a lull in the storm to cram in a planned post-season dinner with some of my beloved marching band moms.  Jon was out of town on business, and by the time I got home and tucked kids into bed, that phone call was far beyond my scope of consciousness.  I was all about my flannel pjs and curling up in bed with the pups and my electric blanket.  Despite a two-hour weather delay the next morning, though, the dogs had me up before the crack of dawn.  I swear our labradoodle smelled the flakes falling and woke me up.  Which meant the whole darned bunch of them had to go out, too.   Delilah (the doodle) was having a grand old time romping around the others in the fresh snow and ignored my pleas to come in so I could go back to bed and enjoy a rare day of sleeping in.  As I waited rather impatiently, I clicked the button on the answering machine, mostly to stifle its annoying beep.  I heard the familiar voice of our Lifeline caseworker, and I thought, “Here it comes.  She’s going to politely tell me we need to get it in gear and get going on this adoption thing before we’re ancient.” 


Obviously my head started spinning when that is not at all what she had to say.  I only managed to retain a few words the first time around.

 “I have a file for you…”

“…the sweetest eight month old baby girl…”

“…repaired heart defect…”

“…If I don’t hear from you by the end of the day…”

WHAAAAAT??!!

I’d already blown it??!!  Full panic seized me as I played the message again.  I chased the dogs down in the snow in my slippers and managed to get them into the house.  Now they were excited and raced with me up the stairs to my computer so that I could rip out an excessively apologetic letter to Elyse at Lifeline, with a teeny tiny hope that we still might have a chance to view that file! 

Something to the effect of “TRUST ME.  I will answer your next phone call if it's in the middle of a surgery!!!”

Do I really need to say that going back to sleep was completely out of the question?

Did I mention the fact that my email was sent at 4:11 am, Eastern Standard Time? 

Or that Elyse is on PACIFIC STANDARD TIME?? 

Three HOURS behind our time??

I’m not sure how exactly I passed the next few hours.  With the exception of knowing that I clicked the refresh button on my email at least 7,432 times. 

FINALLY. Exactly six hours and twenty minutes later. What must have been an early morning email check on her end provided sweet relief for the holes being worn in my carpet.  Sweet as in the file was attached. 


My heart went from pounding to stopped.  This was new ground for me.  I’d never had the opportunity to view a file in this circumstance.  Our non-special needs adoption of Caroline was such a starkly different experience.  The match was made in China, and the referral call was the highly anticipated part of the process.  We knew it was coming.  I never doubted for a second Caroline was chosen, not by China, but by God specifically for our family.  When the call came, it was a formality by which we discovered her name, her age, and all the details that came in her file surrounding her existence.  All those details, along with her photos, would be sent by FedEx the following day.  Old school.

"This is your baby, cool?"

 "Cool."  

"We'll send you a picture. "

Not exactly as simple as all that, but you get the drift.  Admittedly, I was a nervous wreck the first time around.  This time?  How would I possibly know if this was my kid?  I mean, what were the odds that the first file we looked at would be her? What if we made a mistake? What if I didn't know when I looked at her photo? Why would we already get a call to even look at a file when I hadn't made the first effort to start the home study or anything? Should I even be doing this without Jon?

But here it was right in front of me.  And all I had to do was click a button.


...to be continued.

Monday, March 17, 2014

He knows her name.

For the better part of seven years, I carried in my heart the dream of another daughter.  Somewhere in the deepest part of my being, I was convicted of this need to mother another little soul.  There were days this dream of mine seemed just that.  And a few times I nearly gave up on the whole thing.

But God.  Each time I fell on my face, He lifted me up. He reminded me to trust Him.  Along the way, He whispered a name for her.  He broke my heart for hers. He encouraged me to persevere.  Over and over, He asked me to wait.  For years, she existed in my imagination. Occasionally, I doubted if she really existed.  But He knew.

And in His perfect timing, when I least expected it, He revealed the most beautiful reflection of His plan.   All of sudden, this past December, I was clicking a button on my computer to open her file, and there she was.  A little face staring back at me.  I quickly scoured the details of her file, and there it was.  Amidst my doubts that this could finally be happening, God blessed me with the knowledge she was our Mary-Kate, almost instantly.



Those details are an important part of the story, yes, but they can wait.  What I am compelled to marvel in this announcement of her addition to our family is so much the bigger picture, both literally and figuratively.

A few years ago, I shared my thoughts after coming across this photo taken by Mary Beth Chapman during an orphanage visit in the summer of 2007.   I was so captivated by this sweet baby’s face and Mary Beth’s words.  She wrote,



“This little girl sat quietly in her bed.  
The number beside her is 055.  She is a number.”

But He knows her name.  God knows the name of every orphan. And He’s known the name of our delicate little Mary-Kate since before time began.  He formed her heart to be perfectly imperfect, knowing it would be what brought her to us. On February 3, 2013, this baby girl who would be ours was born on the other side of the world.  Abandoned just two days later, she was given a name by an orphanage worker.  More significantly, she became a number, one of millions of orphans.  

I have no explanation for the timing of God’s plans for her or for any other orphan.  I can only trust that what He says is true, that He has a purpose.  He works all things together for that purpose.  For the good of those who love Him.  This little one’s story has been always been a part of ours, and He lovingly chose the day He would share it with us, to finally put a name and a face with the dream I've contemplated for years.  Soon, she will no longer be a number.  She will be given our name as a part of hers and will forever be a part of our family.  And I am forever grateful He’s known all along.

"...rejoice that your names are written in heaven." 

Luke 10:20