Tuesday, June 3, 2014

bringing zion home.

As the demands of life took over this past month, I had to let my blog fall to the wayside a bit, but am hoping to sit here long enough to crank out an update for y’all. We have been living in survival mode as we work hard to prepare for an adoption that has happened in TEN weeks. Yes. We first heard about our son ten weeks ago, and we will be traveling to meet him just four weeks from now. This means I’m allowed to use the phrase – “don’t ask me, I’ve gone nuts,” as an excuse for everything and anything that I don’t have time for/ cannot accomplish/ totally dropped the ball on.

When I say we’ve been frantic, think chickens running headless. We have jumped through hoops, laughed until we’ve cried, cried until we’ve laughed, cried multiple times a day, cried for no reason, cried for every reason, cried out of stress, anger, sadness, stress, happiness, and stress. I can most likely count the number of days I’ve gone without crying in the past ten weeks on one hand.

We’ve mailed hundreds of documents via Fedex (bless the hearts of the men who’ve helped me as I’ve rushed like a hot mess into their store minutes before that last truck was supposed to leave – they probably saw my red eyes and wild look and didn’t want to be the one to say sorry, this truck is outta here!).

My husband and I have started calling our home “vaccination nation,” so I’m sure you can imagine the appts we’ve been scheduling to get the all clear to travel.

Our little Finn has been quite the trooper already – and we are so proud of him. He has slept through the night since January, which has been a blessing in itself. While we just recently finalized his adoption, we have now been on the paper chase to expedite his American passport, which I think the last document was turned in this morning. I haven’t let myself imagine too in-depth traveling to Africa with this energetic fella, because, frankly, when I do, I get claustrophobic and want to lie down. That might be a slight exaggeration (it’s not.).

In serious, though, with joking aside – this has been a journey of the heart. It has tested my faith, tested my trust, my patience. Everything. I have said ugly things out loud – untrusting things. Words lacking faith. Sentences about how I know God CAN do it, but don’t know if I believe he WILL.

I’ve felt even uglier things in my heart. Things I haven’t said, but only thought. Selfish things that look like sin and grow like weeds if I let them. Things about how comfortable we are. How I don’t want to do “hard” anymore. How I love my little family how it is. How high will our dr bills be? What if he never sleeps?

There are days I question what in the world we are doing. Last weekend I sat at the reception of my cousin’s wedding. I had bbq sauce on my dress. I was tired. I couldn’t have a normal conversation because my kid was running around like a crazy person. David left early to put a cranky Finn to bed, so when the dance started, I was alone. I wanted David to be there to dance with me.

We’ve pushed back plans of moving to a bigger house, making more money, going on vacation. We’ve pretended that we aren’t reluctant about it, but oh those thoughts creep up – don’t they?

People ask me about Finn, and if this is best for him, and how we know it’s right. I smile and put on a happy face, until I’m out of sight where I can cry into the dirt, because how should I know? Is anything right in this world, aside from doing our best to do good, and to follow the call of Christ? Finn is our son, and Zion is his brother. We believe in compassion and teaching our children that yes, baby boy, you can change the world. You can do anything and be anyone. That is what Finn is learning, as we arrange our home to make room for more.

See this, sweet boy? If your heart says yes, there can always be room for more.

And yet, God still hasn’t failed me. In all my doubting and frustrations – he’s come through. When the mountains needed moving, they were moved. When our bank account showed nothing extra, there suddenly was more. When my heart looks ugly and scarred and scared, he speaks gently to me – reminding me of the promises already fulfilled. I’m feeling braver than I ever have.

Some people tell us we are amazing for doing this. That they can’t imagine what it is like, and God bless us for going to Africa to save those babies. 


Friends – what we are doing is no more amazing than anyone who follows God’s purpose for their lives – no matter what it looks like. There are times I’ve felt discouraged with myself, wondering why I’m not doing more – thinking of the things I could do in full time missions over in Africa. This helps no one – but when I am obedient to Him – to the call he has placed ON ME, that is when I see a difference being made. That is where I get to watch lives being redeemed, and orphans being called home to be sons.

We know a bit about the joy that is coming for Zion. We know only a hint of the blessing he will be to us, to our families, to the people who watch him grow.


We know that through our weakness, God is moving. He’s mending broken hearts and setting lonely in families – keeping his promises, as he always does.


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