Five Year Meltdown

Such a mixture of feelings:  excitement, fear, hope, pain, gratefulness, confusion, anticipation, dread, and more. . .all jumbled together like my Christmas Chex Mix.  Five years.  Though the pain doesn't typically take my breath away or make me nauseous anymore, it's still there, a constant companion, a deep and heavy ache.

We pulled out the ornaments last Friday to adorn our beautiful, fresh tree (freshly slaughtered, if you ask Scott--see his warm thoughts on one of my favorite traditions here).  Ella uncovered a baby blue bell, given by my sister in sweet acknowledgment of a precious, short life.  Our first Miracle looked at me with deep sadness that no little girl should ever have to carry.  Someday, our King will come again and set things right, and no little girl will ever again have burdens such as this to carry.  But for now, this is her reality.  This is our reality.

5-year-old Ella with our little blue treasure box

Five years ago, all we could do was choose to trust, and - oh - how difficult was that choice.  We certainly didn't feel like trusting, and in the craziness of new grief, we tried to see good while gazing across an impossible, raging sea of pain.  Raw anger, confusion, and excruciating pain will send anyone to the brink, and we've been there and back more than once in five years.  Maybe you have, as well.

Christmas became permanently different that year.  It's no longer just warm fuzzies and celebration.  There is significance to life like never before.  Not just the Infant King's life, but our lives, and life in general.  Life became a precious gift to fight for. . .all because of a boy's 19-week life.

Who knew?  Who knew that Ezekiel was not an end, but a beginning?  Who knew that the healing I need is not healing of the brokenness of my heart, but of my soul?  Who knew that I would appreciate my kids more and love children more?  Who knew that Scott and I would become advocates for women and babies?  Who knew that after 5 years of healing and softening, our Father would have us on an adoption journey?  He did.  And if he had told me then?

Our social worker was to come and determine our suitability as parents today in preparation for this adoption.  Try to imagine our anxiety.  Yet the pretty flowers meant to brighten our dining room and destined tomorrow for Ezekiel’s grave sit unobserved on the table.  Our social worker called in sick.  Perhaps it is coincidental that our home study interview was cancelled today and Ezekiel’s 5^th birthday is tomorrow. . . .  Perhaps we have the makings of a full-blown, atomic meltdown!  Perhaps God knew that we needed a journey with a few adventures along the way.

God sees the beginning and end of our life journey and says it is good.  And it is.  Five years is pretty insignificant in comparison to eternity, and think, we’re five years closer to being in the arms of Jesus ourselves and holding Ezekiel, Sam, and Glorietta in our arms again.  Life is good.

Our Journey Toward Adoption

Originally written on 11/5/13:

Three years ago, Scott and I realized that for quite some time both of us had been having our hearts turned toward orphans—as in, God wanted us to DO something beyond giving money and praying.  We didn’t know whether we were supposed to foster parent or what, but we knew that the timing was not right and decided to revisit the idea when Gianna was 3-years-old.  Well, now she is almost 4, and after an adventurous three years, including the loss of our daughter Glorietta (our third in the arms of Jesus before we held her in our arms), our hearts continue to ache for orphans.  I have been surrounded by fostering and adoption stuff this whole year and have met an unusual number of adoptive parents, but we had a large house project looming on the summer horizon—a desperately needed new roof and siding—and we decided to wait until the project was completed in the Fall before we took action on foster care, with the idea of maybe, possibly adopting . . . not likely.

For the last several months, especially, there has been a major battle in my heart because I love my life . . . just the way it is.  I am blessed and content.  My little family makes me so very rich.  Why would I go and hang my heart out so that it might get crushed again; why would I disturb our ordered chaos and start over with nighttime feedings and smelly diapers and dirty faces and fingers and. . . .?  Always, that still, small Voice answers, “Because life isn’t about you, now is it?  It’s about Me and what I want to do in you and through you.”  Can’t argue with that, can I?? Believe me, I try!  I always lose those arguments because I know my Father well enough to know that if He is in something, it is GOOD.  No, it is UNFATHOMABLY good.  That doesn’t mean it’s easy.  I know Him well enough to know that, too!  But the very act that makes Him a good Father is His gentle nudging out of the curse of self-love and into the trust of true love, which is where joy lives.  Man, that nudging hurts!  So my whole issue is fear, once again.  That monster, Fear, who tormented me in every pregnancy since we lost our son Ezekiel—here we are, face to face again, as Scott and I embark on a new adventure.

On our way to Ella’s summer math class in August, we heard the song “Overcomer” by Mandisa, and it occurred to me that this needed to be our theme song for the school year, which was about to start.  I remember being unsure that I wanted to make this the theme song because surely it would mean that God has some big things ahead for us.  Thankfully, we are overcomers because Jesus overcame and has the power to overcome any old obstacle in our path!  Now that’s something to sing about!

At the last math class for the summer, I met a mom who adopted her girls from China, a particular soft spot with me for a variety of reasons.  As Debbie and I talked adoption, she made the statement, “You know, it’s not a coincidence that we met.”  That haunted me, and I could almost hear the year’s previous adoptive moms saying the same thing.  If Scott were even in favor of pursuing adoption, I had no idea where to look for our child—international or domestic, foster care system or newborn through agency, physical challenges or none, and so on.  I had no idea what Scott would say, so I began seriously praying that his heart would be interested if God was truly in this craziness.  In the meantime, I still fought the battle with my own heart—what am I thinking?!  I am not the kind of mother for this job.  How would we manage?  We have plenty of other excellent, worthy causes to spend our time and money on; in fact, what if God is just moving us to give so that someone else can adopt . . . a different family without so many flaws?

By Saturday of that week, my mind and heart were whirling in confusion.  When I took the mail out of the mailbox that day, the top magazine was our homeschooling magazine with a cover story on. . .[drumroll]. . .you guessed it—ADOPTION!  Specifically, it was on how adoptive homeschooling families face the challenges.  I threw the magazine on the counter and refused to look at it.  I couldn’t believe it.  As the day progressed, every so often I’d pause and read another part of the article; it was irresistible.  The ache in my heart cried out to God, “Show me what to do!  I don’t know what you want or how to do it.  Please help me!”

Two days later, I opened my email and found that my friend, who has faced strangely similar losses as I, had heard from a former Michigan employer, an adoptive dad and lawyer dealing in adoption.  He had a birth mom needing an out-of-state adoptive family for her baby; the birth mom was interested in California for some reason.  My friend thought of me, and when I read her email, the typically still, small Voice couldn’t be louder.  I sat and cried buckets.  Sweet Ella came in and saw the puffy, red eyes, hugged me, and asked what was wrong.  I told her that it was okay; they were good tears for a happy reason.

The next logical thing was to lay it all out for Scott and see what he said.  After he read the email, he turned and looked at me with a crooked smile and said, “Well, I’m up for another challenge!”  Shock.  Awe.  Had God really made it that easy?  I didn’t even have to make a case.  This is the same man who just 7 or 8 years ago was indifferent toward us having a second child.  My secondary infertility concerned him because it hurt me, but Scott was okay with having Ella as our only.  Was this the same guy?  He had softened since the birth of our second daughter, Gianna, but had become content again as I had.  Nope, God had gotten ahold of him, too, and moved his heart a little more from self to love, just like me.

It just so happened that the girls and I were to go to Michigan in a few weeks to visit our family, and I was able to meet the birth momma.  At this point, we know nothing more and have taken this as a closed door, but if for some reason we find that she wants to work with us, we could have a baby in February or March.  I believe that whatever comes of this opportunity, God has used it to show us what He wants us to do, though we don’t have it all figured out yet.  We are currently working through the Home Study process and would appreciate your prayers.  This is where the rubber of action meets our road of faith.

Overcomer

Becky chose "I am an Overcomer" as the theme for the girls' new school year.  She then mentioned that it seemed an appropriate theme for our entire family.  I mumbled something like, "sure, whatever."

Then my next thought was - "what have you done to us now..."  In order to be an overcomer, one must have obstacles to overcome - yes?  I am not interested in more obstacles, and I felt I had been clearing most of my obstacles rather smartly, thank you very much.  What was she wishing upon us, or what did she see coming that I was missing?

Well the adoption for one.  We had talked on and off about adoption over the years, but it has now come up before us as a real possibility, and very soon.  More about that at another time.  Suffice to say that reams of adoption paperwork, endless professional appointments, and meticulous home study preparation are all in the process of being overcome.  Add a baby to the mix sometime soon, and we will have full blown overcoming on our hands.

But dear me, this, like most of the other obstacles we face, have been erected by our own hands.  There have been few obstacles in our path that have not had the foundations poured, framework erected, and been fully adorned by anyone other than ourselves.  This results in part from our own foolishness certainly, though I think there is a more agreeable reason much of the time, or at least a composite of the two.  That is, that ground deep into our nature is the understanding that most really good things can only come as a result of hard work.  Frankly, even the "just sort of good" and "pretty good" things in life need at least a modicum of effort expended in their direction to become reality.  When we want something enough, we are normally willing to overcome some obstacles along the course we take to get at it.

But those are not the obstacles that prove most troublesome.  The troublesome ones are those which we did not, yea, could not see coming.  For example,  adoption is a large obstacle placed by ourselves into our own path, and we are patiently scaling it one handhold and one toe hold at a time.  Troublesome will be finding that a baby is waiting to be adopted, we have 1 week to prepare, I am in the middle of 3 large projects at work, the line of credit has been tapped out, the only bathtub in the house has sprung a leak, and the girls both have the flu.  And that really won't be too difficult until we discover that the neighbor's cats have recommenced using the front flower beds as a litter box.  That will become an adamant wall over which even super-heroes such as we are, cannot fly.

But then, of course, we will.  By God's grace we will mount up on those Isaiah 40:31 wings and soar right on over, or at least that's what it will look like in retrospect when we tell it to our children with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence - thank you Robert Frost.  But our Road not Taken will sure look like the better path as we scrape and scramble up the path no feet have trodden black.  You see, even Frost wrote with an understanding of retrospectiveness.   But while that works for poets writing poems, retrospect offers no balm while the wounds are being inflicted, muscles are straining, and tired eyes peer yet deeper into the gloom in search of some sign of the right path.

Overcome or be overcome.  I think of the wave that nearly toppled Ella and I one day as we stood waist deep in the cold Pacific surf.  We were overcome.  When we could see the waves coming, and we stood at just the right spot, we could overcome them with a bit of a hop and a giggle.  When we got turned around  however, the mischievous sea sent a small rolling wall to teach us a lesson about power and control.

Overcome or be overcome.  I thought how appropriate this theme was going to be, as I begin to train for my next race.  My foot has been injured for over 2 months and the nagging injury just won't heal.  For weeks, I've been telling myself that in about 2 weeks I'll be running again.  I'm still thinking that same thought today, but now even my eternal optimism has begun to get jaded.  When do I get to start being an overcomer?  When do I get to start training hard to prove that I'm an overcomer?  This is beginning to become one of those troublesome obstacles.  I feel the sea building behind me

I don't want a lingering injury obstacle.  I want a previous injury obstacle.  The obstacle that I have right now, is getting out of control.  The obstacle I want, can be managed by discipline and hard work.  I want to soar with wings like an eagle right through the winter on a training regimen that will be difficult yet allow me to find success in the end.  I don't want to think about having to wait on the Lord for 6 months so that I can say I soared to some other destination.  I know which obstacles I want to overcome.

And so, I think I'm on to something.  It's not really about the obstacle.  It's not really about overcoming the obstacle.  It's about attitude.  And, stop nodding your head in that self-possessed smug manner in which you are nodding it.  I know you knew that already.  So did I.  But doggone if it doesn't seem to come to mind at the right times, and if it does, it appears to be an impossible and unrealistic possibility.  Endure hardship with the right attitude and it will be alright in the end?  Come-on, Paul, really?  In whatever condition - content?  Let me pick and choose my obstacles and I'll choose the ones I know how to clear.

Do I trust the Creator to place appropriate obstacles in my path?  I guess not very well.  Being an overcomer isn't going to be easy.

Poetry

You can take little risks on a blog right?  What is to follow hazards only a bit of self respect - and that, only supposing I'm a complete failure and the failure is published beyond the limited audience that visits here.

I've written 2 poems.  Stop grinning.  Think Browning, Shakespeare, Burns, they are all respectable men. I'm teaching a Christian Life Studies class, where we are exploring the Bible as a work of literature in some of its various genres.  This week is Poetry.  Part of my explanation of Hebrew poetry is a handful of illustrations from contemporary forms of poetic writing.  As an exercise, I thought to have the class compose some poetry at the end of the period.  Unwilling to impose on my class some task I am unwilling likewise to undertake, I have composed the following 2 poems.

In deference to the limited time I will be giving them to compose their poetry, I limited my composition to 5 minutes per poem.  So, withhold criticism if possible, and at least appreciate the 10 minutes of hard labor represented below.

Acrostic

PEACE

Praying with hope

  Even in fear

    Answers are hidden

      Can there be hope?  Yes,

        Even with tears.

Haiku (5,7,5)

The Disciple

The waves crash wildly

My bark is safe though Christ sleeps

And yet I despair

The Lord wakes and smiles

The waves are stilled as He looks

And all are amazed

Comments are welcome, as well as original content, which I would be happy to post for you.  Yes, I'm grinning.

I'll Take Both Please

Life can hand you difficult concepts to try and make sense of.  A young mother with a tow-headed little boy and his dark eyed sister wandered into the Peet's coffee.  I followed their wanderings over the top of my laptop and grinned as the mother procured piecemeal information from them regarding flavor of milk, muffin or no muffin, this table or that one - conversation I'm familiar with.  At one point the brother was trumpeting through an absconded coffee filter as his sister rifled the rest of the display for an instrument of her own.

 

They were obviously good kids.  They needed little prompting to keep the peace, and once seated, remained, and made a good showing of it.  Their visit was short, and of course the muffins were unfinished if not altogether ignored.  The chocolate milk was squeezed dry.

 

What was unremarkable was that such a charming trio was so peacefully occupied on this bright morning.

 

What was remarkable - and only to me - was that this little boy weaving about the tables and chairs could have been me - if my childhood photos are any indication - and for that matter, he could have passed for my son.  But that is where the difficulty came in, since the girl also reminded me much of my 4 year old daughter.  You see, I have a son whom I have never taught to connect Legos, or sound out his letters, or ride a tricycle.  He was taken from us about 4 years ago, even before he was born.  The first light on his little eyes found them closed and lifeless.  We visit a little piece of ground in memory of him and 2 sisters who were taken from us in similar fashion. 

 

Our oldest daughter shares some of this pain with Bec and I. She was young and understands the loss but our youngest, our daughter conceived "inadvertently" and only months after that deep loss, is still ignorant of the loss of her brother.  And there's the rub.  Those 2 beautiful children playing together while amusing me and the other idlers as we sipped our latte's represented an impossibility for me.  If our Ezekiel had lived, there would be no Gianna - an impossible concept to resolve. Nursing and caring for our son Ezekiel, would have made conceiving Gianna practically impossible.

 

Can you resolve such a confluence of thought and emotion?  Bec and I love and crave both of these children yet recognize that we could never on this earth have them both.  If you say that our daughter was God's gift to two broken hearts, I say you are correct.  And you profoundly miss the point.  We want them both. We are human and we want all of the happiness we perceive to be due us.  We have seen both the son lost to us, and the child only made possible by the remaining void.  And we want to hold them both - together.

 

This is a joy reserved for later, I know.  I know.  And yet I feel.