Hair on Fire to Be Still

Since we got back from Ethiopia 3 weeks ago, I feel like we've been running around with our hair on fire! It's been nearly non-stop since we landed at LAX and began final preparations for becoming parents and taking time off from work. Our days and nights have been filled with work, constant errands to Target and Babies R Us, late night email checks, meeting up with friends, long small group dinners, last minute dates with my babies' daddy, kids' room makeover, maternity leave arrangements, turkey day celebration, Christmas decorating and shopping, and 2 baby showers. You have noticed, I've done very little blogging. Now maybe you know why! :)

And even in the midst of all this, I am so energized. All this frantic activity is for our kids, preparing them to come home to be with us forever. I am filled with delight, joy, gratitude, and bursting with hope these days. Very few things discourage me, get me annoyed, or truly aggravate me. It is well with my soul.

Last week, I was able to slow down for a day of solitude at my favorite place to be silent and be with God, The Montage. For the past 5+ years, I've walked to this place almost every month to see this waiting for me....gorgeous, I know!

For the past 3+ years I've processed and grieved so very much the death of a dream [pregnancy], longing [to have a family], and waded through waiting [through our infertility and adoption]. Seeing the ocean when I've walked up to these stairs has been my refuge and now is my Ebenezer.

Walking down these stairs toward the beach every month, I often walked in on the verge of tears and sadness. But I also walked in expectant to see, hear, touch, and experience God in a new way.

Isaiah 40 became a battle cry for my soul. The end of the chapter summarized my prayer:

"But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.
They will soar high on wings like eagles.
They will run and not grow weary.
They will walk and not faint."

Walking up these stairs at the end of my days, I sensed God's closeness and presence in ways I know I would not have had I not taken the time to STOP and BE WITH him. I walked away hopeful, renewed, and connected to Jesus.

It really was from this bench, with this view that the most amount of soul renovation took place. I read. I wept. I sat. I slept. I listened. I journalled. I talked with my spiritual director. I questioned. I waited.

Also, nearly EVERY time that I sat on this bench I saw dolphins swimming by - jumping, playing, making cute dolphin noises. After a few consecutive months, I started sensing that those dolphins symbolized God's great love for me and his desire for me to swim in his grace. I cried every time I saw them.

Last week, when I sat on this bench again I saw something different. I'm not entirely sure what I saw, but for about 20 minutes I saw at least a couple hundred seals swimming about 100 yards off the coast. A multitude of seals! For 20 minutes! I'm not a prophet, but I sensed in my spirit the Spirit saying something new...

Isaiah 43:18-19 has been a repetitive passage for me over the years:

"But forget all that—
it is nothing compared to what I am going to do.
For I am about to do something new.
See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.
I will create rivers in the dry wasteland."

I don't know when I'll be able to go to The Montage again. I'm guessing it'll be a little while. But on this silence and solitude day, there was space to reflect on all God's done and a deep sense of one chapter closing and another beginning. I didn't see a dozen dolphins on that day, like I have for years. I saw hundreds of what appeared to be seals. Something new...

Transition Prayer Passage

I got to talk with my sister-in-law last night, and right off the bat she wanted to encourage me by letting me know that she's praying this passage over Judah and Addise these days. She said that whenever her family been in transition due to any move or change, this has been the passage they've prayed over their transition. Of course, it's fitting that Sarah Beth would pray this over our kids. Tears...thanks, SB, for loving our kids well!

Psalm 121

¹ I look up to the mountains—
does my help come from there?
² My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth!

³ He will not let you stumble;
the one who watches over you will not slumber.
⁴ Indeed, he who watches over Israel
never slumbers or sleeps.

⁵ The Lord himself watches over you!
The Lord stands beside you as your protective shade.
⁶ The sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon at night.

⁷ The Lord keeps you from all harm
and watches over your life.
⁸ The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go,
both now and forever.

Transitions

Think about the last big move you had [for every member of my family of origin, this is a recent reality]. Stressful? Exhausting? Emotionally draining? Nerve wracking? Time consuming? Yes, I'm sure to most of those feelings and probably a few more.

Now think about being 2 or 3 years old and feeling all of those feelings, but not being able to rationalize it, put it into perspective, articulate your feelings, verbalize your loss and processing, and truly understand what's happening in your world.

That is the reality for kids facing adoption. That is Judah's reality as a nearly 2 1/2 year old little guy who can't speak English, hasn't had parents in a long time, and lives in a very different world that our zip code. That is Addise's reality who's spent the vast majority of her life in an orphanage.

For both of our kids, they are facing their 4th transition in their short lives!! Have you had to move homes 4 times in 1 year? Probably not. Then, throw in the fact that you now how different care takers, nutrition, bed, and surroundings and you'll get a snapshot into the kind of grieving, loss, and transition that our little ones are experiencing. It's unfathomable to me.

As I've been grieving alongside my kids for their transitions and loss, I've wondered how they felt with Brian and I coming to their 3rd home, loving on them for 3 days, then leaving them. Do they understand what's happening? Do they know we are their parents, or do they just think that we're another set of hands to hold them?
I was sharing my questions with another adoptive mom at Newsong whose adopted daughter is an adult and she said something that seared into my heart: there's something different about a mother's and father's touch - they know the difference. I don't know if research and developmental experts would confirm her words of comfort, but I have to believe that there IS something different about the way we held, kissed, and played with Judah and Addise. It seems like a supernatural thing God would do to remind them that we have not left them as orphans [John 14:18].

All I know is that since we've been back from Ethiopia [2 weeks ago today!], I've been praying for their souls to be healed and prepared for another transition AND that we'd get that December 14th Embassy date!!!