missing a milestone.

since announcing last week that we accepted a referral,

we have been getting tremendous support -

some from friends, some from people around the world we've never met or heard of.

we have raised nearly $5000 - putting our total at about $15000,

which is halfway to our final goal!

we are truly blessed, and SO thankful.

while we still have a lot of money to raise - we know, know, know it is possible.

today was a milestone for our little man over in uganda

as he turned one month older.

my heart feels happy and sad at once,

thank you i whisper to the sky, knowing lucas never made it this far,

slow down i urge the clocks and the tides and the sun as it inches across it's vast space,

don't let time go on without us.

i consider the things i know -

the small snippets and puzzle pieces of this child's life are all i've heard.

i think of gift, the day old girl who arrived at the home in africa while i was there,

i remember crying for her on the nights no one was there to rock her to sleep.

is that what it has been like for him?

rooms filled with cribs and busy mamas and hungry babies and no rocking?

my heart aches even as i smile to tell our story,

to ask again for funds,

even while i mail more papers,

answer more questions,

lie awake at night.

God who does great things,

we pray at night,

would you let him know we're here?

there is glimmering hope 

in a promise that says:

behold, i make ALL things new.

babies with broken hearts.

mommy's with broken hearts.

yes, indeed. there is new life starting here. i can feel it in my soul even now.

want to join us?

CLICK HERE

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oceans apart.

learning motherhood through loss and lucas:

though we've gained the excitement and expectation of our new little one 

waiting for us across the ocean,

the cracked scar left by the death of my first boy, lucas, still remains,

deep and jagged - flaring up, red and swollen,

with any mention of mothers and sons.

the journey of adoption is not one filled fully with joy.

it is of a road traveled once before,

riddled with sorrow and trails of tears. 

nothing erases the pain of losing my tiny little son,

and nothing gives me back the dark corner of my heart 

that i buried in the ground with him.

nothing can replace lucas; i whisper it in the doubts i fling towards God in my weak and tired moments,

but even louder and heavier than my doubts are promises that drop and ripple

outward in this mama's broken heart -

the kept promise that he makes all things new

that he writes redemption where we see death,

and that He's doing it now: the way he did then, he is doing it still.

it was lucas, fragile and small and full of heat and disease,

that surprised me and proved to the whole soul of the woman i was,

with skin on skin and my sweat and his sweat,

that i could love a child not born of my own flesh and blood,

enough to sacrifice any happiness i thought i once had

to make that boy my son.

i'm finally understanding just a scrap of the grace

that Christ offered when he told us in the red letters of his love:

i work all things together for good.

because of lucas, and because of his death,

my heart was opened wide enough to realize there was another sweet boy waiting for me,

and with a body in the ground and a soul in the sky, lucas's story marches on.

i've celebrated each mother's day after lucas died

as a secret mother with nothing to show,

but he knew - oh that little boy who never spoke but knew so much,

he knew what redemption really meant. he knows it now, 

as he watches an orphan become an heir because of short moment in time he spent on earth-

big brother and first son, teaching us still.

while this mother's day is the first i've ever had with a son who is alive,

it marks the fourth i've had with no one in my arms,

but oceans apart.

my heart aches with knowing that while my son grows, he grows without me.

please God, i beg,

please let him know i'm here, i'm coming, i'm coming, as fast as i can.

-------------*-------------

dear mom,

thank you for giving me the opportunity to do everything i ever dreamed.

without you, there would have been no first trip to africa,

no lucas,

no sweet son.

i can't wait for our little boy to meet you.

he is going to have the best grandmas ever.

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changed forever: the morning we met you.

last wednesday morning i stood at my desk,

talking with a co-worker.

from the corner of my eye i saw my phone light up.

glancing at it - my heart skipped.

the number showed our uganda adoption coordinator was calling.

the co-worker kept talking, but i don't know what he said.

i nodded, nodded, just be done! i was thinking,

but didn't want to be impolite.

he turned, left.

one new message...

check your email, the now familiar voice said;

you will find your referral there.

my hands were shaking as i logged in to my personal account,

and there it was.

referral information, it said.

my life changed then, in one moment, with one click.

i cried at my desk.

i called my husband,

my mom, dad, sisters, brother.

i cried again.

i am so honored to announce that last night, after a week of prayer,
we have accepted the referral of a beautiful, wide-eyed little boy.

he is perfect to us in all ways.
we feel wonderfully blessed and in all ways grateful.

emotions are high here, as we love on a baby across the ocean,
as we try to imagine what life will look like when it isn't just two,
when free time isn't taken for granted,
and when we are the parents to a child who was once abandoned.

no matter the situation - adoption always involves loss, in many different ways.
it comes in different waves and at different times
and looks different for everyone.
but thankfully - while it involves loss, it also involves grace.

even over the short period of the week we've had our referral
i've grieved many different things.
some are insignificant and ridiculously small - what if david and i can never go on vacation just the two of us?
some are big and haunting - what if my baby has never been rocked to sleep?

even so, through all things, the truth remains ingrained deep within my soul-
but for me, to live is Christ. to die is gain.
the life of comfort always looks cleaner - the path is much better groomed.
the life of Christ, though, is of one who suffered long for others. it is one who gave up life to let live.

as our hearts pound and we lie in bed awake,
we trust in the Lord's plan for us, for our family, and for our little boy.
we are set to travel by the beginning of July - only 7 months after starting our adoption process.
to pick up our son we must be fully funded - and we have about $20,000 to raise.

would you watch this short video?
would you join with us in this redemption story?

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i am the trauma child.

i know it's true.

i've seen the eyes of the babies abandoned - the children left for dead

and the ones who've gone to war.

an adopted child is always a trauma child.

it isn't hard to understand how an infant left on the road by their mother

might not trust that the world is good,

might lie in your arms, stiff as a board, no matter the amount of love you have for them.

sometimes i wonder why on earth we are doing this.

why aren't we just doing this the normal way?

what in the world are we doing.

i question this seemingly strange way of building a family,

while even still i know, as sure as my heart is beating, i know there is someone out there
who may not have my eyes or my freckles, but who has my heart.

i cringe at the ugliness of my humanness.
i cry hot, fat tears when i realize, shamefully, that i am the hard to parent child.
i am the disobedient one. the who has small faith. the one who trusts with such reserve.

the one not always kind or happy with a father who gives good and gentle gifts.

all the ones who have gone before us say it over and over:
it's so, so hard. but worth it.
i crouch on my knees and beg God to see my soul and not my ragged, jagged flesh.

just let my life be worth it, i plead with him.
worth the hurt i've caused you - because i can't live like this anymore.
i still, rest my forehead on the floor.

don't look back, then. i hear his voice as clear as rain.
there are greater things for you.
i don't know how to move forward, i think, i've never gone this way before.

with my eyes closed i can see a tiny child, lying in the dark.
then i'm carrying his small frame, walking away from an orphan's home.
he's reaching back, scared of the unknown path in front of him.

don't look back, then, i speak it to him in the night.
there are greater things for you.
we move forward together, both scared to leave our past, both knowing there is more ahead.

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hand-stamped.

i just wanted to quickly sneak on here.

i was gone all week in chicago for work,

and am finally getting back into my normal routine.

the weather these past two days has been gorgeous,

and we've been spending as much time out in the sun as possible,

especially since thursday is showing snow showers... [really!]

while david cleaned out the greenhouse

i started a new project -

hand-stamped jewelry to raise funds for our adoption.

would you take a look and share with your friends?

Hand-Stamped Silver Necklace with Ugandan bead

http://babybergen.weebly.com/

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nursery reveal: part 1

since we finished all of our adoption paperwork (!)

we could be hearing any day that there's a baby waiting for us in uganda!

however, without an actual timeline,

sometimes it is hard to make it feel real.

so, along with going about my daily business,

we've also been getting our nursery ready.

here is what we have so far!

we decided to keep a bed for us in our nursery as well,
especially for the first transition months with our little one.

elephants, giraffes, world traveller

squares and lights

baby mobile

 and, just because how could i resist:

we still need to add a rocking chair, possibly a changing table,

and a sweet little antique dresser from my grandma.

what have the rest of you been up to lately?

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so all will not be lost.

last night i cried.

it started out as a cry from being overwhelmed,

as the exhaustion of work and life and adoption took their toll after a long week.

my weakness makes me wonder why.

why do we have these bodies that get so tired?

why do we have these hearts that break - easy as eggshells?

i laid on the couch and thought about the Lord;

how he has wooed me.

how he is wooing us all.

there are many times i share my beliefs subtly in this writing space,

but i don't oftentimes really talk about it -

the way He's the lover of my soul. But i'm going to today, because i'm so thankful for the way he works.

he is a wooer of all men, and has been since before creation.

as he breathed the earth into it's spinning motion - he thought of us

and added brilliant flowers, magnificent beasts, rushing water, crashing waves, wind and sea and sky.

i've watched him woo my father - who is sensitive and kind, by giving him the woods.
my husband, still wild at heart - the country.
my mother: her children, and soon, her grandchildren.

he knows each of us intimately, and understands exactly what it will take to win our love.

he woos strong men from their earthly possessions to the stricken streets of helpless and need.

he woos broken women to come out from beneath their veil of fear and pain.

for me, the transformation of his love changed the entirety of my life and being.

but the most amazing part is this: he begins his wooing while we are still dust,

while we are still in the womb his plan to reveal an immense love has already begun.

i was an extremely reserved, quiet child. shy and unadventurous.but he, oh, he knew just what it would take to stir my heart - to call me out to a place where i would seek and find him. 

you see - even as a child, for no apparent reason, i could feel the brown eyes of africa looking straight at me.

they looked at me and i didn't know why, yet - though all the while he did.

 like a man who loves a woman who hasn't noticed him yet.

the eyes stared and waited - until finally, i stared back.

it makes no sense - the way we act when we first fall in love. 

i was changed. i was suddenly braver than i'd ever been, for no reason at all.

the Lord knew from early on that it would take a continent as big as africa to woo me out of my selfishness.

he knows our hearts in and out, and knows the distance he must go to pull us from ourselves,

to shatter the walls we build that allow us to be comfortable being alone,

and that allow us to think it is okay when we think of nothing but ourselves.

they say he is a gentleman - but his love is strong.

he is unrelenting. he is persuasive. but all the time: he is good and patient and true.

with one look i was enamored, entranced and in love. he had won me.

but what is a love if it isn't a pursued love? he woos first, yes. but never stops pursuing.

even as we love, we know that we are flawed. we are the fallen, the adulterous halves.

that is why our bodies ache and our hearts break and our children starve and kill.

we forget so quickly how we felt at that first look. but he doesn't.

and so all will not be lost

he doesn't divorce our hearts from his,

but joins them together by inviting us to help him write redemption stories.

and those stories allow us to remember how the first look of love felt,

even as they tear and shred and keep us from the comfort we think we need.

those redemption stories are what make us feel alive again, what make us fall in love again.

just as david takes me back to the beautiful cliffs of lake superior to remind me of where he vowed his love,

the Lord shows us glimpses of a time where we had full faith in him, 

even when our faith later failed.

for me and africa, and my lips swearing to never let my heart love another orphan the way i love lucas because of how bad it hurts with him in the grave,

my Lover says come back. 

come back again. 

i am writing redemption here - so all will not be lost.

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