Tim and I have never longed to be part of an adoption story. We've fondly watched friends adopt, even helped them along with their journey. But we have always been content with our little-ish, happy family.
But that was before. Tim had a run-in with God about a year-and-a-half ago and things have been markedly different around here. The cynical, realist husband that I had become accustomed to transformed into a grounded-in-Scriptures man, recklessly optimistic in his faith. That may sound foolish and a bit out of control, but for our family, it has been downright amazing. Some guys experience a mid-life crisis and haul off to buy a fast car or souped up speed boat. Not my husband. He began questioning his job, his choices, his faith, his identity and it sent him straight to his knees.
Tim searched for opportunities to grow in his faith. So, when he signed us up to tag along on our church's Haiti Mission Trip last summer, I wasn't the least bit surprised. We had made it through a relatively tough school year, the first year our household contained a "working mom". (I realized quickly during that year that I had misjudged working moms across America...they are amazing women.) We were both looking for more...a purpose and a deeper meaning to the circle we kept running as working parents. The opportunity to travel to a third-world country offered perspective and we longed for a new one. Haiti would be our first brush with poverty, and we only wanted to go if we could experience it together. Our oldest daughter, Ally, was 13 and more than willing to experience this different world, so we signed her up as well. We positioned our world and perspective to be rocked.
And it was. Tears stung my eyes as I first glanced the rampant poverty Haiti. I specifically remember being picked up from the airport and, while in transit to our mission, witnessed a joyful, waving boy trying to catch our attention from his front porch. Of course, I waved back, but it wasn't until we passed that I saw him lunge atop his porch rail...with no legs. And this was the heartbeat of Haiti. Smiles and laughter and joyful worship in the face of pain, depravity, and so much heat. (Boy, did I ever sweat on that trip!)
Here's our whole group, clean and shiny-faced before we departed from the church.
Beautiful! That's what the people in Haiti are...in so many ways. This girl attended the VBS we helped with.
Watching Tim in Haiti touched my heart. We learned a new way to love others...together.
Perhaps you don't know my family. Perhaps you don't understand why that statement hit my chest so heavily. I am a twin. I have a set of twins. My twin sister has a set of twins. I have a set of twin brothers. Wow, we are weird! That's a lot of twins. However, being a twin in the United States is cute and a "double blessing" and draws attention like you've won the baby lottery or something. That's the way I had always felt about being a twin...like I was worth more than a million bucks. And these beautiful brown babies were rejected and deemed "too much." The reality hit home...and hard.
When that seventh day came and it was time to head back to air-conditioning, ice cubes, and my ever-loving Wal-Mart (I am so American), my heart ached for the children we were leaving behind. Not because I thought our Wal-Mart could fix their problems, but because I wanted to know they would be tucked in at night with a kiss, told Bible stories about Moses and the burning bush, and loved in a way that reflected God. I wanted the twins and all the toddlers in the orphanage to feel like a million bucks. The mother in me wanted to nurture their souls, but instead I left...something these orphans were all too familiar with.
And that was it.
I came home, kissed my three other kids, and thanked God for the abundant life He had given us. I thought often about the orphans and we talked about when we could go back to see them. But that was all. My world had been rocked, but "home" gently nudged my ideals neatly back into place. School started again, as did our crazy life and schedule, and the orphans became adorable photos and fond memories.
But God had something else in mind. Enter my blinded-by-faith husband looking for a way to create an eternal difference in his world and feeling the clock ticking. He started praying for God to open a door for us to make an impact and one by one we saw them open.
The following posts are my effort to capture our journey to adoption. I've begun. Sorry about the weak beginning, BUT I'VE BEGUN, PEOPLE! I'm feeling better already getting this all out and organized. So next, will come the middle. That's where all the conflict happens; that's where the story really gets interesting. (Too bad I have no clue what the middle will even contain.) And the end, well the end seems far away. I'm sure it will be too quick in coming, exciting with long lulls, scary and funny, precious and sad, and joyfully chaotic all at the same time. I don't know where these posts will lead. All I know is that God is up to being His awesome self and I can't wait to write the unfolding of His story for our family.
