I can't even make this stuff up, folks. God continues to impress us with His creativity in revealing our part in orphan care. Just when I was feeling hopeless because of the roadblock in Ghana, God stepped in and said, "Trust me! I got this, just wait and watch." Something tells me, His plan is much greater than my wildest hopes and dreams (and you'll soon see, I'm a pretty big dreamer).
Even before I published our "Unexpected, Sad Twist" post, Tim focused on trying to fix our predicament. He plunged in with determined level-headedness (which I obviously lacked!) and began making phone calls in efforts to find our footing in the turbulent world of international adoption.
One phone call landed a stranger named Mike on the line. I use the term "stranger" loosely, because although we hadn't talked to or met Mike, he is a father/father-in-law to our dear "small groupies" with whom we have done a lot of life (laughter and tears) over the past seven years. In fact, when we began this process last summer, they willingly offered his name as an adoption resource.
Well, Tim remembered their suggestion and Mike's name and number made the short list. Awe, who am I kidding, we only had one list...and it was pretty short. We felt paralyzed in our adoption process. After losing a seemingly perfect match, we didn't know who to trust or where to turn. We thought maybe Mike would know.
So, Tim conversed with Mike for about 45 minutes (that's always good, right?) and when he hung up, I looked at him with eyes that pleaded, "Tell me how he's going to fix this!" and Tim just scratched his head.
"Well," he began with something like, "Mike is a good listener, has a heart for African orphans, and it sounds like he knows African adoptions can be tricky."
"And..." I leaned in, waiting to hear what was next in our "Shoaf Family Adoption Story" and ultimately revealing my attitude of ridiculous optimism that leads me into all sorts of interesting predicaments.
"That's it." Tim ended and turned away with his own mantra of hard-core realism that keeps him out of my said predicaments.
Of course, I considered his response anti-climactic. Optimists hit walls harder than realists and it appeared I just ran into yet another. Our reality in adoption settled in deeper. We were stuck.
A few days later, we told our family the bad news and a few days after that, I posted here. Tim's sister and brother-in-law came over for dinner the following week and asked if Tim made any progress in his phone efforts. He told them about his conversation with Mike and then butchered Mike's organization name enough to warrant retrieving Mike's contact info. When he did, he mentioned a website with the agency's name that prompted me to bring out the laptop and explore.
The agency's impressive website lead me to a blog entry (and y'all can imagine I'm a sucker for blogs!), written by Mike about a recent trip he had taken to Uganda. Yes, Mike has a passion for Ugandan orphans. I could feel it in his post and saw photos of the dark faces he had touched.
Then, my face lit up when I read the description of Mike's endeavor's in Africa. Along with affirmations of his passion and vision, the website stated clear plans for Mike to make another trip to Africa in March of 2014.
March of 2014 was just around the corner (at that point), and my wheels began to turn. Didn't Tim want to learn more about the credibility of the African adoption systems? Wasn't Tim the one who began this whole journey, passionate to participate in orphan care? Didn't Tim run a business offering a flexible schedule during March of 2014?!?!?
Are you connecting the dots? So I totally blurted out what would only come from the mouth of a ridiculous optimist, unafraid to dream big and tell the whole world about it, "Tim, HE IS GOING TO UGANDA IN MARCH!"
"Yeah?" Tim tried to curb my enthusiasm. He already knew what I was going to say and wanted to soften the blow of hitting yet another wall.
"YOU SHOULD GO WITH HIM!"
Tim halted my exclamation with a realists view that this man, Mike, probably didn't want to lug a globetrotting stranger around Africa and besides, flying over the ocean seemed too risky for a person who doesn't even love to fly over land. (I could launch into a whole different post about this, but I'll save it.)
In the end, all at the table agreed, it was perfect timing and witnessing African orphanages first hand may curb our newfound distrust of orphanage directors. Then there were sad, wishful sighs, and we changed the subject.
I didn't forget about my idea, but Tim's reaction convinced me the plan was a little ridiculous.
So, you can imagine my surprise a few days later when Tim told me after work that he had indeed called Mike to inquire about his trip to Africa as mentioned on his agency's webpage. The news took me by surprise! It wasn't like Tim to go out on a limb with a dreamy, unrealistic idea.
"...and?" I questioned with confusion.
"Well, first I just asked him if he was going. He confirmed his plans to head to Uganda in March, so I asked him what he would be doing there." Tim explained.
"He seems very organized and ran through a whole list of places and people to visit on his agenda. He is pretty much going to set up contacts for their agency's international adoption program that will be Hague accredited in a few months."
This seemed too perfect, "...and!" I urged with a little too much anticipation.
"Then I told him that my crazy-dreamer wife thought I should ask him to ride along on his trip. I threw in some comments about knowing he may well have a team in place and didn't want to be a burden and that I thought it seemed like a far-fetched idea but it didn't hurt to ask," Tim hurried. Were we really having this conversation? Ridiculousness is so out of character for Tim.
"What'd he say? What'd he say?!?!" the suspense was killing me!
Tim continued, "Well, he is going on this trip alone. He's traveled to Uganda twice in the last year and is quite comfortable with the contacts he's made there and confident to go by himself on this trip."
My expression faded. "Well, that was anticlimactic," I thought to myself. Maybe Tim made the call to prove realism trumps ridiculous optimism. But then, Tim continued....smiling.
"But...he said as much as he is comfortable going alone, his wife is really struggling with sending him all by himself. He wondered if God told us to ask about going on the trip and communicated that he would appreciate a companion, even if it was a stranger."
"And then he flat out asked if I would like to travel to Africa."
"What!?!?!?" did he just say what I thought he said?
"I can go...er, well, I've been invited to go."
And so a short discussion over whether or not we could actually plunge into this dream began. It seemed like a perfect opportunity for our adoption woes, but did Tim really want to go to Africa?
You can imagine my adventurous and dream-filled ideas require a grounded man to maintain balance in our home. He is grounded in the sense that he is practical, realistic, and likes to stay on the ground. He doesn't have a lot of flying experience, and doesn't seek out adventures involving airplane rides. He is not against flying, he just doesn't promote it. Even when originally choosing to adopt from Africa, the plane trip made his "cons" list.
Tim's wariness to fly doesn't even touch the impractical disadvantage of spending so much money on an exploratory trip while we work diligently to save money for adoption fees. We didn't have a lot of time to talk that night, but this was certainly a concern. Mike asked Tim to give him a yes or no within a week so they could get plans and plane tickets together if needed.
Laying in bed that night, I remember thinking the trip would require a lot of discussion over the next week. It seemed as if God Himself invited Tim to go to Africa because of the way it all played out! How could he NOT go? Did God have something specific there for him? Something so special as to require a personal invitation? But how could Tim go, when leaving his family to fly to Africa "just to see what he could see" seemed extreme?
Well, THE very next day, after our five minute chat between just the two of us about a whirlwind trip to Africa the night before, Tim took me out for lunch. We wanted to seriously discuss this trip and a lunch date without the kids' curious ears around seemed like the only opportunity.
When he picked me up at work, he was on the phone in his truck and had a curious look on his face. Before he could even say hello, he pointed to the phone indicating he was taking a call. I closed the door and he turned the conversation on through his speakers so I could hear and immediately, I recognized the voice of a friend on the other end.
A call from this friend was unordinary because he wasn't the "let's chat on the phone in the middle of the day" kind of friend and acknowledged this very thing as I settled into my seat. Then he went on to say that not only was it weird to be calling Tim in the middle of the day, but something bizarre had happened during the week prior that he and his wife could not ignore.
He said they had money to donate and were just going to throw it in the plate at church on Sunday when they both felt God saying they should hold onto it...that someone would need it. He kept reiterating how strange it all was, that they both felt that way. Then he said they felt the money belonged to us as a gift and he would have it waiting for us if we wanted to accept it.
Oh, and did I mention the amount was the approximate price of a plane ticket to Uganda?!?!?!
I looked at Tim through tears.
Wow.
We hadn't even told our family (our kids even) that a trip to Uganda could be an option. We weren't sure if we had enough purpose or money to make that kind of trip happen. But this phone call, from this friend, on this day was almost as if God reached down and pushed Tim forward, saying, "Go."
And so he is.
My tears fell as a realization that God does have something for us. We still do not know what that something is. All we know is that Mr. "There's No Need to Travel the World" is feeling like he really needs to go to Uganda. And that Mrs. "Adventure Seeking, World Travel Loving, Dreamer" is totally fine letting her husband go without her on this one. In fact, I feel like Tim doing something uncomfortable swings the door wide open for God to speak into Him.
That is my prayer.
We have a feeling that on this trip to Africa, God will show Tim what kind of orphan care he has set aside for the Shoaf family. We don't know if that means adopting an orphan, helping in a different way there, or raising awareness here. We really aren't anticipating possible outcomes (Although when Tim was asking what souvenirs he should bring back for each of us, Josie asked for a bracelet and Jackson asked for a boy!), because we have a hunch God's going to inform us of our part in His timing. And we are totally okay with that.
Please pray for Tim. Pray that he will hear God in Uganda. Pray that he will be protected physically. Pray that God would help Tim to see what He sees, to touch with the power and love of Christ, and to listen with the aid of the Holy Spirit. Pray for safety and sleep and for healing over Tim's nagging knee pain. Pray for orphans (keep Edmond and Edina on the list!) in Africa. I expect great things.
I'm already more proud of my husband than I have ever been. This very grounded man is clearly learning that God's way is so much bigger than his way and his own preferences. He is excited to experience God's work in the lives of orphans. Even if that means he has to fly over an ocean to see it.
Go, God!
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Processing
Sitting in the middle of February, we find ourselves processing. I thought our mid-February processing would mean documents shuffling across the desk of a Ghanian lawyer, preparing for a day in court. I expected to schedule flights, pack luggage, and find babysitters for our kids at home so we could meet our new kiddos in Africa for the first time. But alas, God is asking us to process differently.
The news of ending our adoption plans with Edmond and Edina warranted a reckoning with the fragility of international adoption. For Tim, this uncovered corruption brings new resolve to maintain integrity in our adoption process and ensure stability in the plan. Camping out in the fragile for a while has been my approach.
After my last post here, phone calls, texts, and facebook messages acknowledged my broken heart. Individuals at work, at church, heck...even at Wal-Mart offered hugs that brought more tears. Sharing our story means sharing our pain. I've never been a fan of crying, but this whole adoption situation might change my crying philosophy!
One particular epic cry moment happened two weeks ago at church. Tim missed church on account of (ANOTHER) Sunday morning snow. (He pushes snow for a living...more on that later.) That morning, I felt a deep nudge to share about our experience of loss with the church. Tim and I consider our church "family" and I wanted them to be informed. I had already posted here, and as a result, many people knew about our adoption process status, but other dear prayer warriors from church did not know this new disruption in our adoption plan.
When sharing time came, I realized I wouldn't be able to share without tears, and if you know me, I don't do tears, so I decided I couldn't share. Not that day.
However, as others shared, I conjured up a real business-like way to share our fallen-through adoption and convinced myself I could do it without crying. Well, my brain and my heart must have miscommunicated.
I announced four words (real business-like) before I choked up and couldn't speak at all. I sank into my pew, shoulders heaving, trying my best at "silent sobbing" (either I'm a total newby or silent sobbing doesn't exist).
And I sat, ugly crying in front of the entire congregation.
Here's what I learned that morning about ugly crying in church...
First, it's humiliating and ruins your make-up. However, you will quickly find reasons two through five far outweigh the woes of running mascara.
Second, unlike my first inclination with criers (RUN AWAY), many people possess the true gift of nurture. As I sat down that morning, unable to tell the whole story, church members rushed to my side. And then (more tears) I witnessed Sunday school teachers, family, and friends hold tight to my daughters, dealing with their own broken hearts. Dear, dear "family" embraced our struggle while the pastor and others prayed over our family. Nurturing people proved to me that transparency (even in the ugly crying form) gives them an opportunity to use a gift God granted for specific moments like this. (Thank you hugging, hand-holding, tissue givers...you know who you are!)
Third, sharing my pain opened the doors for others to show compassion. After the service, individuals from my church lined up to tell how they also felt loss. Tender stories, some from decades ago, came from men and women alike. Each one with an experience of loss and a promise that God is faithful. Compassion became a theme in every story, hug, and smile. Hurting hurts less when others cry too.
Fourth, my church is awesome. That Monday, and for many days to come, our family received cards. Lots of cards. They offered encouragement, prayer, and hope. You know when you go to church and people walk by, or even stop to chat and always ask, "How are you?" and you (and everyone else for that matter) say, "I'm good!"and then you go on your way and celebrate the friendliness of church-goers? Well, ever since my complete mess of tears in front of our church, people stop me and they want to know how I am...how I really am. And I tell them.
I tell them it is hard, but God is good and then I tell them why. Sometimes, what used to be a 6-second conversation turns to 10 minutes. And this, folks, is the church being the church, sharing pain and carrying it right alongside me so that the burden is a little lighter and the future seems a little brighter.
My church hasn't all of the sudden gotten awesome, it's always been amazing. This is just the first time I've exposed my heart to this extent. That Sunday morning, with my tears, my heart mouthed, "Help me." And they ran to answer my heart cry. They are marvelous people being used as the tender hands of God to wipe away my tears. I love them! I love God and his plan of believers living in community. If you don't have a church family, my ugly cry morning would strongly suggest you find one!
[And here's my shout out to First Menno! I love living in community with you!]
Fifth, (last, but not least...probably the GREATEST) prayer works. Thanks to the thousands of prayer warriors checking in here and to my church family for praying! So many friends assure me that prayers continue to be offered up on behalf of Edmond and Edina. I won't be surprised to find them true Ghanian royalty someday because of the investments of prayer. People across the globe are depositing eternal pleas for their protection and prosperity! To tell you the truth, my prayers for them have taken on new urgency and fervor.
I know people are praying for us too and our journey to adopt because I can testify that God is up to something...BIG.
I can't wait to tell you about it.
But that testimony is for another post. I need a bit more processing before I confidently share how this part of the our journey nudges us into something greater in our quest to touch orphans for Christ. I'm not even sure what it looks like yet, but believe me, I am sitting on the edge of my seat!
But now, today, in this post, I can honestly say, "I am thankful for the process." The process contains valuable lessons built in to prepare us for the end result. Thank you, God, for this part of our story and for people who mirror your compassion. And thank you, God, for allowing me to camp out in the fragile and attain a better understanding of your tenderness and care. I love You and Your plan, even in the struggle.
Oh, and about the aforementioned snow: we prayed for God to provide financially for this adoption and Tim has pushed enough snow to add mountains to our adoption fund. So, sorry if you live in Indiana and hate snow, I may or may not have prayed in our snowpocalypse!
The news of ending our adoption plans with Edmond and Edina warranted a reckoning with the fragility of international adoption. For Tim, this uncovered corruption brings new resolve to maintain integrity in our adoption process and ensure stability in the plan. Camping out in the fragile for a while has been my approach.
After my last post here, phone calls, texts, and facebook messages acknowledged my broken heart. Individuals at work, at church, heck...even at Wal-Mart offered hugs that brought more tears. Sharing our story means sharing our pain. I've never been a fan of crying, but this whole adoption situation might change my crying philosophy!
One particular epic cry moment happened two weeks ago at church. Tim missed church on account of (ANOTHER) Sunday morning snow. (He pushes snow for a living...more on that later.) That morning, I felt a deep nudge to share about our experience of loss with the church. Tim and I consider our church "family" and I wanted them to be informed. I had already posted here, and as a result, many people knew about our adoption process status, but other dear prayer warriors from church did not know this new disruption in our adoption plan.
When sharing time came, I realized I wouldn't be able to share without tears, and if you know me, I don't do tears, so I decided I couldn't share. Not that day.
However, as others shared, I conjured up a real business-like way to share our fallen-through adoption and convinced myself I could do it without crying. Well, my brain and my heart must have miscommunicated.
I announced four words (real business-like) before I choked up and couldn't speak at all. I sank into my pew, shoulders heaving, trying my best at "silent sobbing" (either I'm a total newby or silent sobbing doesn't exist).
And I sat, ugly crying in front of the entire congregation.
Here's what I learned that morning about ugly crying in church...
First, it's humiliating and ruins your make-up. However, you will quickly find reasons two through five far outweigh the woes of running mascara.
Second, unlike my first inclination with criers (RUN AWAY), many people possess the true gift of nurture. As I sat down that morning, unable to tell the whole story, church members rushed to my side. And then (more tears) I witnessed Sunday school teachers, family, and friends hold tight to my daughters, dealing with their own broken hearts. Dear, dear "family" embraced our struggle while the pastor and others prayed over our family. Nurturing people proved to me that transparency (even in the ugly crying form) gives them an opportunity to use a gift God granted for specific moments like this. (Thank you hugging, hand-holding, tissue givers...you know who you are!)
Third, sharing my pain opened the doors for others to show compassion. After the service, individuals from my church lined up to tell how they also felt loss. Tender stories, some from decades ago, came from men and women alike. Each one with an experience of loss and a promise that God is faithful. Compassion became a theme in every story, hug, and smile. Hurting hurts less when others cry too.
Fourth, my church is awesome. That Monday, and for many days to come, our family received cards. Lots of cards. They offered encouragement, prayer, and hope. You know when you go to church and people walk by, or even stop to chat and always ask, "How are you?" and you (and everyone else for that matter) say, "I'm good!"and then you go on your way and celebrate the friendliness of church-goers? Well, ever since my complete mess of tears in front of our church, people stop me and they want to know how I am...how I really am. And I tell them.
I tell them it is hard, but God is good and then I tell them why. Sometimes, what used to be a 6-second conversation turns to 10 minutes. And this, folks, is the church being the church, sharing pain and carrying it right alongside me so that the burden is a little lighter and the future seems a little brighter.
My church hasn't all of the sudden gotten awesome, it's always been amazing. This is just the first time I've exposed my heart to this extent. That Sunday morning, with my tears, my heart mouthed, "Help me." And they ran to answer my heart cry. They are marvelous people being used as the tender hands of God to wipe away my tears. I love them! I love God and his plan of believers living in community. If you don't have a church family, my ugly cry morning would strongly suggest you find one!
[And here's my shout out to First Menno! I love living in community with you!]
Fifth, (last, but not least...probably the GREATEST) prayer works. Thanks to the thousands of prayer warriors checking in here and to my church family for praying! So many friends assure me that prayers continue to be offered up on behalf of Edmond and Edina. I won't be surprised to find them true Ghanian royalty someday because of the investments of prayer. People across the globe are depositing eternal pleas for their protection and prosperity! To tell you the truth, my prayers for them have taken on new urgency and fervor.
I know people are praying for us too and our journey to adopt because I can testify that God is up to something...BIG.
I can't wait to tell you about it.
But that testimony is for another post. I need a bit more processing before I confidently share how this part of the our journey nudges us into something greater in our quest to touch orphans for Christ. I'm not even sure what it looks like yet, but believe me, I am sitting on the edge of my seat!
But now, today, in this post, I can honestly say, "I am thankful for the process." The process contains valuable lessons built in to prepare us for the end result. Thank you, God, for this part of our story and for people who mirror your compassion. And thank you, God, for allowing me to camp out in the fragile and attain a better understanding of your tenderness and care. I love You and Your plan, even in the struggle.
Oh, and about the aforementioned snow: we prayed for God to provide financially for this adoption and Tim has pushed enough snow to add mountains to our adoption fund. So, sorry if you live in Indiana and hate snow, I may or may not have prayed in our snowpocalypse!
Monday, January 27, 2014
An Unexpected, Sad Twist
Every award winning story contains an extraordinary, unexpected twist. Well, we've hit ours and it plays on our worst fear.
We hadn't heard much from our agency for about a month, so we decided we'd touch base with them after the holidays. Turns out, we didn't have to. They called us.
They wanted a formal discussion about the Ghana program in general. Yes, we could do that. We scheduled a call with them on the day we headed to Indianapolis for our fingerprinting appointment, necessary for international adoption.
Cradle of Hope had bad news.
In the preceding week, they discovered discriminatory evidence pointing to the corruption of the orphanage director on whom they relied for the entire Ghana program. The news devastated the agency and they wanted to inform all families in the program to see what kind of reaction it would generate. Our hearts sank into our stomachs. Was this really happening?
They told us to think and pray about what we might want to do going forward. We clicked "end" and both took a deep breath. What were we supposed to say? What were we supposed to do?
Moving forward with our adoption of Edmond and Edina meant likely more corruption, more money, and an uncertain outcome. The agency emphasized the breach of trust blew holes in the program's integrity in general. If he lied about one aspect, did he lie about how he acquired the orphans? Was he caring for them as advertised? Would he make good on future promises?
Terminating interaction with this corrupt director meant terminating our dream of including Edmond and Edina in our family. Tears came.
Angry tears. One man's corruption shattered the future of dozens of orphans and a few families like ours waiting to love them. The plight of orphans in the world took on a different shade that day. A dull, gray shade. Millions (yes, millions) of orphans never see the hope of a family because of corruption in their communities and in our world.
Sad tears. Spiritual investments on behalf of Edmond and Edina were in full swing. Hundreds of intimate prayers connected our souls to the plight of these two orphans. Severing our hopes of ever meeting the precious faces we invested so heavily in, tore my heart. Would I never squeeze Edmond's hand on my way into the grocery store just to say "I love you"? Would I never tell Edina a made-up "Princess Edina" story to help her settle down for sleep?
Uh. This is what a broken heart feels like.
Tim and I consistently prayed throughout our adoption process that honesty would prevail and corruption would have no place in welcoming an orphan into our family. This development was difficult to navigate. We really, really did not want to work with a corrupt man. But we really, really wanted Edmond and Edina to join our family. After some discussion, we decided that we would lean heavily on what the agency recommended for us. We have no experience with international adoption and they've had decades. If they thought we could manage a road of corruption, we may attempt it. If not, we would stop pursuing this route.
We called them about a week later to touch base. They asked what we were thinking. We told them, "We aren't even sure what to think." We asked them what they would do if they were us, lined up to adopt two kids from this orphanage?
They said, "Run."
They explained again that trust had been broken and moving forward could be unpredictable and precarious and my cost us unnecessarily only to be devastated in the end with empty arms.
It was decided. We would terminate our connection with that orphanage. They explained that Edmond and Edina would be removed from foster care without our support and placed back into the orphanage indefinitely.
I wanted a good-bye hug. I wanted closure. There was none.
After much thought I realized, in a way, I didn't have to say goodbye. My prayers before that day were heartfelt and heard (and I believe answered!). My prayers going forward would be just as effective. Although Edmond and Edina will likely never be in my direct care, I can spiritually continue to invest in them.
So I am. Praying for God to intervene in their lives. Ultimately praying that they will have a family. Praying for full bellies. Praying for the living word of God to sink into their hearts. Praying against trafficking. Praying against abuse. Praying for a hope and a future.
Tim and I talked about our part in all of this. Perhaps our very prayers against corruption uncovered the crooked ways of this orphanage director. Perhaps our prayers saved the futures of other would-be-orphans. I trust that this turn in events IS an answer to prayer.
A very hard answer.
Please, please, please pray for our family. When we told the kids, they were crushed. Through tears Jackson had to say, "I just thought Edmond was going to be my brother." We did too, bud. We did too.
We are all very, very sad.
Starting again seems daunting. But we will. Cradle of Hope has already suggested we move into their Uganda program. They even have a sibling set of three waiting to be adopted (they must think we are INSANE). However, we are hesitant to move forward with an agency associated with so much heartbreak. We have a few other connections with other agencies that are possibilities for adoption in other African countries. We are making those phone calls and trying to decide what is next for us. We need prayers for discernment and direction.
Since receiving this devastating news, a scenario plays out in my head over and over again and it brings my heart much hope. I see myself in that Haitian orphanage we visited in the summer of 2012. I imagine hugging a set of twins, overjoyed to learn I could adopt them. Then, in this picture, a worker comes in as I am packing them up and says, "There was a mistake, these two aren't up for adoption! I'm so sorry!" Then she points to another pair of orphans. "But, these two are...Would you be interested in them instead?" Of course! And I would adopt the other orphans instead, and life would be blessed and full with those two. This vision helps to heal my broken heart.
Yes, we will continue in our story. An orphan (or two....or three?!?!) out there in the world is depending on us to push through this. The unexpected twist in our story brings us to tears, but provides even more purpose and resolve to help those in distress.
What should probably make us scared to move forward has bolstered our faith in the only One we can trust in this process. God is faithful. So we will be too. Our faith continues to grow in this determined state. We depend more than ever on the author of our story. We cling to Scripture like Deuteronomy 31:8. We continue to say, "Thank you for this refining process."
As for our story, this crazy twist should pump out a real page-turner with a fantastic ending....right?
We hadn't heard much from our agency for about a month, so we decided we'd touch base with them after the holidays. Turns out, we didn't have to. They called us.
They wanted a formal discussion about the Ghana program in general. Yes, we could do that. We scheduled a call with them on the day we headed to Indianapolis for our fingerprinting appointment, necessary for international adoption.
Cradle of Hope had bad news.
In the preceding week, they discovered discriminatory evidence pointing to the corruption of the orphanage director on whom they relied for the entire Ghana program. The news devastated the agency and they wanted to inform all families in the program to see what kind of reaction it would generate. Our hearts sank into our stomachs. Was this really happening?
They told us to think and pray about what we might want to do going forward. We clicked "end" and both took a deep breath. What were we supposed to say? What were we supposed to do?
Moving forward with our adoption of Edmond and Edina meant likely more corruption, more money, and an uncertain outcome. The agency emphasized the breach of trust blew holes in the program's integrity in general. If he lied about one aspect, did he lie about how he acquired the orphans? Was he caring for them as advertised? Would he make good on future promises?
Terminating interaction with this corrupt director meant terminating our dream of including Edmond and Edina in our family. Tears came.
Angry tears. One man's corruption shattered the future of dozens of orphans and a few families like ours waiting to love them. The plight of orphans in the world took on a different shade that day. A dull, gray shade. Millions (yes, millions) of orphans never see the hope of a family because of corruption in their communities and in our world.
Sad tears. Spiritual investments on behalf of Edmond and Edina were in full swing. Hundreds of intimate prayers connected our souls to the plight of these two orphans. Severing our hopes of ever meeting the precious faces we invested so heavily in, tore my heart. Would I never squeeze Edmond's hand on my way into the grocery store just to say "I love you"? Would I never tell Edina a made-up "Princess Edina" story to help her settle down for sleep?
Uh. This is what a broken heart feels like.
Tim and I consistently prayed throughout our adoption process that honesty would prevail and corruption would have no place in welcoming an orphan into our family. This development was difficult to navigate. We really, really did not want to work with a corrupt man. But we really, really wanted Edmond and Edina to join our family. After some discussion, we decided that we would lean heavily on what the agency recommended for us. We have no experience with international adoption and they've had decades. If they thought we could manage a road of corruption, we may attempt it. If not, we would stop pursuing this route.
We called them about a week later to touch base. They asked what we were thinking. We told them, "We aren't even sure what to think." We asked them what they would do if they were us, lined up to adopt two kids from this orphanage?
They said, "Run."
They explained again that trust had been broken and moving forward could be unpredictable and precarious and my cost us unnecessarily only to be devastated in the end with empty arms.
It was decided. We would terminate our connection with that orphanage. They explained that Edmond and Edina would be removed from foster care without our support and placed back into the orphanage indefinitely.
I wanted a good-bye hug. I wanted closure. There was none.
After much thought I realized, in a way, I didn't have to say goodbye. My prayers before that day were heartfelt and heard (and I believe answered!). My prayers going forward would be just as effective. Although Edmond and Edina will likely never be in my direct care, I can spiritually continue to invest in them.
So I am. Praying for God to intervene in their lives. Ultimately praying that they will have a family. Praying for full bellies. Praying for the living word of God to sink into their hearts. Praying against trafficking. Praying against abuse. Praying for a hope and a future.
Tim and I talked about our part in all of this. Perhaps our very prayers against corruption uncovered the crooked ways of this orphanage director. Perhaps our prayers saved the futures of other would-be-orphans. I trust that this turn in events IS an answer to prayer.
A very hard answer.
Please, please, please pray for our family. When we told the kids, they were crushed. Through tears Jackson had to say, "I just thought Edmond was going to be my brother." We did too, bud. We did too.
We are all very, very sad.
Starting again seems daunting. But we will. Cradle of Hope has already suggested we move into their Uganda program. They even have a sibling set of three waiting to be adopted (they must think we are INSANE). However, we are hesitant to move forward with an agency associated with so much heartbreak. We have a few other connections with other agencies that are possibilities for adoption in other African countries. We are making those phone calls and trying to decide what is next for us. We need prayers for discernment and direction.
Since receiving this devastating news, a scenario plays out in my head over and over again and it brings my heart much hope. I see myself in that Haitian orphanage we visited in the summer of 2012. I imagine hugging a set of twins, overjoyed to learn I could adopt them. Then, in this picture, a worker comes in as I am packing them up and says, "There was a mistake, these two aren't up for adoption! I'm so sorry!" Then she points to another pair of orphans. "But, these two are...Would you be interested in them instead?" Of course! And I would adopt the other orphans instead, and life would be blessed and full with those two. This vision helps to heal my broken heart.
Yes, we will continue in our story. An orphan (or two....or three?!?!) out there in the world is depending on us to push through this. The unexpected twist in our story brings us to tears, but provides even more purpose and resolve to help those in distress.
What should probably make us scared to move forward has bolstered our faith in the only One we can trust in this process. God is faithful. So we will be too. Our faith continues to grow in this determined state. We depend more than ever on the author of our story. We cling to Scripture like Deuteronomy 31:8. We continue to say, "Thank you for this refining process."
As for our story, this crazy twist should pump out a real page-turner with a fantastic ending....right?
Monday, January 6, 2014
Combatting Fear in the New Year
I don't have much to share except: I'm scared. The thought of this new year seems too big to me. I have no idea what's in store come next December.
What if this all falls through and our emotional and monetary investments seem wasted? What if Edmond and Edina come and we don't adjust well or parent well? What if our biological kids revolt?!?
Ah! I'm scared.
I decided that before I was transparent with you here, I would be transparent with God. He lead me to Ephesians 5:15-16 and reminded me to, "Be very careful, then, how you live- not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity..."
Even though I'm scared, I want to make the most of this opportunity (and I do feel like we are being wise, even though some people may question our barometer for wisdom!). I guess that's why I choose to blog my thoughts throughout this process. Tim and I are passionate about orphans and sharing here has proven quite the open door to show how ordinary people can play a part. But writing here makes me scared too. The world-wide web spotlights my fears and throws them on a platform. Yikes!
Tim and I viewed a sermon a while back featuring Francis Chan sharing insight over Psalm 23. It spoke to me in my fear and reminded both Tim and I why it makes more sense to go ahead with this than to hold back. We watched it again on Sunday, and I knew I wanted to share it with you!
If you are snowed in like I am and have a little spare time, I highly recommend watching Francis share his thoughts on Psalm 23. This scripture generates confidence and peace in situations that call for fear and anxiety.
Confidence and peace. Yes, I'll take that over fear any day! "Hi-Ya!" (That's me karate-chopping fear in the face! I'm fighting it Karate Kid style because I've been cooped up for a looooooong time with a Karate Kid marathon on TV. Wow. Cabin fever is setting in, folks.)
That's where I'm at. If you think about it and want to, you can pray for me and for us. Specifically that we would have peace and confidence in this process. We have watched God answer so many prayers! I trust He will answer these as well.
Maybe I can share more about ways we've been blessed and encouraged during the Holidays in a later post. God is THE great shepherd and we have much to share!
Anyway, here's the video. Warning: it's a world rocker! Click here to view Francis Chan's sermon, "The Lord is My Shepherd" The preaching starts at about minute 18 (but the stuff before is good too).
What if this all falls through and our emotional and monetary investments seem wasted? What if Edmond and Edina come and we don't adjust well or parent well? What if our biological kids revolt?!?
Ah! I'm scared.
I decided that before I was transparent with you here, I would be transparent with God. He lead me to Ephesians 5:15-16 and reminded me to, "Be very careful, then, how you live- not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity..."
Even though I'm scared, I want to make the most of this opportunity (and I do feel like we are being wise, even though some people may question our barometer for wisdom!). I guess that's why I choose to blog my thoughts throughout this process. Tim and I are passionate about orphans and sharing here has proven quite the open door to show how ordinary people can play a part. But writing here makes me scared too. The world-wide web spotlights my fears and throws them on a platform. Yikes!
Tim and I viewed a sermon a while back featuring Francis Chan sharing insight over Psalm 23. It spoke to me in my fear and reminded both Tim and I why it makes more sense to go ahead with this than to hold back. We watched it again on Sunday, and I knew I wanted to share it with you!
If you are snowed in like I am and have a little spare time, I highly recommend watching Francis share his thoughts on Psalm 23. This scripture generates confidence and peace in situations that call for fear and anxiety.
Confidence and peace. Yes, I'll take that over fear any day! "Hi-Ya!" (That's me karate-chopping fear in the face! I'm fighting it Karate Kid style because I've been cooped up for a looooooong time with a Karate Kid marathon on TV. Wow. Cabin fever is setting in, folks.)
That's where I'm at. If you think about it and want to, you can pray for me and for us. Specifically that we would have peace and confidence in this process. We have watched God answer so many prayers! I trust He will answer these as well.
Maybe I can share more about ways we've been blessed and encouraged during the Holidays in a later post. God is THE great shepherd and we have much to share!
Anyway, here's the video. Warning: it's a world rocker! Click here to view Francis Chan's sermon, "The Lord is My Shepherd" The preaching starts at about minute 18 (but the stuff before is good too).
This is what snowed in looks like for us! I'm calling it our very own "Snoceanfront property."
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