WhoooHooo!!!

Got home, late.
Carried two sleeping boys in and tucked them in bed.
Stood in bathroom to take out contacts because my eyes were blurry and tired.
Jason slumped next to me and went through the mail.

 An envelope caught my eye. Heart beat quickened.
Nope, shoulders slumped. Just a fancy looking envelope with nothing much inside.

"Looking for this?", he grinned and pulled from behind his back the one single envelope we have been madly, wildly, prayerfully anticipating.

Nan Ling Ling's immigration approval came today.
Tomorrow everything is autheniticated here in the Capital.
Then, off to Chicago for the Chinese Consulate authenitcation.

And, next week....the papers finally go to China.

Four to Six months is the estimate from today.


WHOOO-WHOOOO!!! Tears. Tears. Tears of Joy!

Happy Birthday Pictures!

Nannie looks so healthy, her hair is growing in and her sweet front teeth have come. These pictures are remarkable and they bring us so much joy and hope! She turned two last Tuesday, the cake and things behind her were sent by us through Anne's Red Thread. Oh, how precious these pictures are to us!

The other day someone told me that we have all of these ions in our body and that we need to walk with barefeet on the earth, skin to dirt, in order to balance out our ions...or something like that. In the garage today I was searching for a nail because I am endlessly making holes in the walls hanging pictures and rearranging in order to find something that works, a balance between beauty and functionality.... anyway I was in the garage with barefeet and my toes and heels and arches were freezing, numb, and all I could think of as I looked for the nail was that my ions must have been going crazy on that concret floor in the middle of winter. My toes longed for grass.  And, so outside I ran feet in the buff to the mailbox, savoring every bit of grass and stick and mud clump underneath my feet. That immigration paper that we have been waiting for was still not there.

Bill. Advertisement. AAA Living Magazine. No immigration paper.

Perhaps it was the dirt in my toes charging my ions and creating balace in my nervous system, or perhaps it was the way the cold earth tingled against my feet reminding me how silly I can be sometimes, but either way my heart did not sink, my grin did not fade.

I was barefoot in January standing at my mailbox. Beneath my toes, buried below my eye's sight, seeds and bulbs and fruits of the summer wait, prepare, store away safely and gently and miracuosly. They wait because if in their eagerness they pushed through the earth now, surely they would not thrive. They wait because they are strengthened underneath in the warmth of the earthen blanket. They wait because they must.  I can only imagine those little seeds yearing for the summer sun, being pulled towards the top soil, ready to fight gravity and brave the elements for a chance to blossom. And, yet as much as they were created to blossom they were also created to wait for that day.

And, so was I. Waiting is a part of the story. Even though I can not see it happening beneath the winter earth lay evidence of summer's glory. My toes tingle with the cold as I ran back to my house, empty handed but not empty hearted.  Even though I may not always see it happening, beneath the wait for Nan lay evidence of God's glory in this story.

This is my year of, "Kick of your Shoes For you are standing on Holy Ground".  It is my year of being aware of God's presence and activity and blessings. It is the year where my only "resolution" is to not stand in a stupor before a burning bush with Moses, but to kick off my shoes and acknowledge the God that I love.  The grass was mightly chilly today, but not nearly as bitter as the concrete garage floor.

Shoes off, wind whipped, toes tingling....Oh how good it is to know that summers story is already in motion right underneath my feet.

A Big Piece of Communion Bread

Thursday night, I cried.
Friday, I kept it in mostly because we had company.
Saturday night, I cried.
Sunday morning, I cried. Church time, I sat in the pews holding Finn and feeling the gentle way that he rubs my arms and plays mindlessly with my fingers. He turns back and smiles at me every few minutes to watch me singing and every now and then he finds it hilarious to shove his fist into my mouth and see me try to keep up with the lyrics. I love this. I look forward to this time with Finn each and every Sunday, still tears fell.
We sang, ".......God is good, he is good all the time....."
We sang, ".....He can move the mountains...."

And, when those words escaped my heart and poured out of my mouth I felt them. I trembled.
For days I have wept, heaviness on my heart, the ever present tears at home right below the surface of my smile. Nan Ling Ling is turning two years old tomorrow....in an orphanage....while we are here waiting on paperwork. Oh, how that hurts. How it angers and frustrates and weighs heavily.
I have prayed, and yet we wait.
I have sobbed, sending up my heart to the Lord, and yet we wait.
I have surrendered, and yet we wait.
And, it stings like the winter wind on bare skin. It blows and beats against my soul making me feel raw to the core. 
Raw and yet I know that God is good, and he is good all the time.
Exhausted and yet I know that God is good, and he is good all the time.
Angry and yet I know that God is good, and he is good all the time.

As I walked down the isle with Moose in front of me and Jason behind me I felt like I must have been shaking in my shoes. We were taking steps to the altar for communion and physically there was pain for me as I walked forward. Trusting in God's plan, exclaiming 'God is good all the time', reaching out to take the wine, it all took effort. And, yet my body and my soul and my mind wanted to take those steps. My entire being longed to walk that isle and participate in communion with this God, this God who has not forsaken me, or my child.

Moose took his bread first. He had already looked back and asked me when he could watch a movie (gotta love a kids timing). I reached forward and took my piece of bread.  He looks at my piece and then back to his own. Loud and clear, his sweet little voice spoke up. "Mommy, you got a bigger piece. I think you took two!"

I don't know if I hushed him or not. I do  know that I grinned ear to ear.
In my heart I heard a familiar voice, not auditory, and yet so clearly communicated to my inner most being.
"Take two pieces, Katie. Take as much of me as you want. You will never take too much. You can never take too much communcion with me. All of me is yours. Eat. Eat. Eat. Drink. Drink. Drink. I will sustain you."

And, so even though the paper work is going slower than molasses and even though Nannie will turn two years old in an orphanage and even though I still cry at night in the quiet as I lay next to Jason who simply holds me calmly and strongly and even though there is pain in the steps I take daily as I commune with the Lord....even though....God is good and he is good all the time. 

Walking down the isle hurt, but it tasted so good. The laughter tasted good. The whisper of the Lord to my soul reminding me through my five year old that he desires me come to Him, to share with Him, to take as much as I needed...that tasted good.

So, I am. I am taking two. I am eating and drinking of the Lord more than ever before. And, the hurt is ok because it is intertwined with joy, sweet hopeful precious joy.

Nan Ling Ling, our Guinevere, you turn two years old tomorrow. We will have cake. We will sing for you. We will blow out candles and celebrate you. My wish, of course, will be for you to come home sooner than we expect. And, you will come home and then I can give you cake and presents and hugs and kisses.
But, mostly I want you to know this story. This little seemingly insignificant story.
You have had pain in your life that Mommy will never understand. There has been and will be pain for you as you walk forward, as you grow, and as you take and eat the love of the Lord. Take those steps anyway. Reach out for the bread of life, even if it seems difficult. Joy can live and abound and transform even in the presence of pain.

I will tell you again tomorrow, but let me your ever hopeful and eager Momma be the first to wish you a Happy Birthday. You are loved.

This picture was taken moments before Finn had his siezures and went unconcious. I had no idea the fear and pain that was going to take over mere moments from this picture. I took double in the minutes and days to follow his siezures too. And, it was that bread and wine and communion which was a balm to my raw being.
 On this day, this terrible day, God was good.

God is good, all the time.

As we wait, God is good.

Heart Outpouring

Ling Ling is waiting in China. She does not know she is waiting and that thought comforts me. We long for her, count down the days, and anticipate her in our conversation and planning. We ask questions like, where will she sit at the table? will her car set fit in the middle? will she like the vacation we have planned for the fall? And so we know that change is coming. We wait.




She survives. And, for this I am grateful. Although I pray for her sweet heart to be prepared bit by bit for the coming of her family I am grateful that she does not miss us yet. I could not bare that thought.



If you have ever wondered what it is like to be an adoptive mother here is a little bit of an insight. A small one, perhaps.



In the car earlier this week I found myself talking to Momma Gamo. A woman birthed my son and I wonder if she lives. I wonder if she wonders, if she ever thinks of him. And, in the car the other day I was so overcome with gratitude for my children that I wanted her, I needed her to know how absolutely positively magnificent he is.

"And, you know...", I continued..."he makes this face when he is thinking that can melt a heart, and he is the most tender big brother, and he loves the Lord and thanks Him for things like protection and laughter and chicken fingers." Days come and go and then some days come when I remember that if she is alive she might want to know with all of her heart and soul and might that the little baby she birthed is ok, more than ok, he is thriving and he can read and he loves to write letters to his friends and decorate them wtih car stickers. And, tomorrow he is going on his first ever big boy playdate without me and he is so excited that he keeps telling his baby brother about it while still sweetly saying, "But, I promise Bubba will be back and we will play trains Little Buddy."



Would't that be the stuff you would want to know? If Momma Gammo and I talked, if I could ever know, then today I would tell her that he got a Marshmellow Gun in the mail from his Aunt Karen and he has gone around all day shooting the household with Marshmellows and eating an entire bag with a goofy sticky grin and a slightly taller stance as the marshmellow gun means for him that he is older and braver and somehow more of a man, a man with a marshmellow gun and he knows how to use it.



And, then there is Nannie.

In the midst of wondering if her car seat would fit and if she would be able to wear shoes after her surgery I began to wonder if we had enough clothes for her. We have been bit by bit collecting sweet little pieces and preparing her room. The last piece of paper that we are waiting on from immigration has still not come. I can not control that, but I can go through clothing and prepare and so I do. A half and hour later I called my dearest friend sobbing and apologziing for the call at such a late hour. She did not care. She never does. I sobbed.

"These dresses are to small. They are all too small. All these dresses for her that we have are too small now and she never got a chance to wear them."

I cried because the stupid immigration paper is not here yet. I cried because my baby girl is in an orphanage when we are here in a warm home filled with cookies and clean sheets and perfectly wild brothers. I cried because I had boxed those dresses up and imaged her in them only to now realize that would never come to be. I cried because these moments of her life are passing, moments that I will never get to know as intimately and dearly as I have with Finn the baby that I have birthed and witnessed each and every mind blowing day since. Mussie has taught me that it is ok, painful, but ok to have missed those days. That even without the knowledge of birth and memories and habits and experiences, even without knowing the story of your own precious child, you can walk forward together and forge a deep and loving and permanent bond from which more joy will come than ever imagined. Yet, what I wouldn't give for a baby picture to hang on the wall of him next to his little brother. What a treasure it would be to know if he had a head of curly hair and if he fell asleep nursing on his mothers breast. These are not every day thoughts, not at all, in fact they come only now and then like in moments such as this when I am thinking of my daughter in China who is experiencing a day that I have no idea about.

I can tell you everything my boys did today. But, my daughter...I do not even know if someone touched her. And, that hurts. A lot.

There will be no baby picture for her either, and ultimately that is going to be ok. Every day we spend together from the moment we walk out of the orphanage will make that ok, even it we all mourn that from time to time.

I am so glad she does not miss us now. But, those too small dresses pushed me over the edge as we wait for that one piece of paper. I sobbed. I can't seem to stop. I hold the boys, read to them, pray with them, play trains and cars and chase, and the tears come rushing to my eyes....but they are tears of a two equally strong emotions.

I AM A MOTHER FULLY BLESSED. I HAVE A SON THROUGH ADOPTION. I HAVE A SON THROUGH BIRTH. AND THEY ARE THE MOST PRECIOUS GIFTS I HAVE EVERN BEEN GIVEN ASIDE FROM SALVATION. Then the tears, the same tears, come too for Nan and the dresses and the days going by and I mourn for her in a way that tears me to pieces. I mourn for her to the point that my tears have become moaning to the Lord.

Mussie, Finn and I are studying the Solar System this month at school. Earth is tiny in comparison to the rest of the known universe. Tiny as it is my daughter is so far away tonight. My prayers go up to my God, to the God of the earth, of the universe. The God that spoke all of this mystery into being, the God that gave us these two boys, the God that has always been faithful.....to Him I pray with the heart of a mother to please deliver her home soon.



And, I wait.



This is what it is like to be a mother touched by adoption.

It is beautiful beyond explanation and more difficult than ever imagined. How grateful I am to be on this journey, even though there is pain in the offering.

Labor pains, like with Finn. Gut wrenching, life altering, never seeming to cease pain and yet every part of me moves forward towards the life that is being delivered.



Birth and Adoption, both heavily requiring labor. The contractions for Nannie are coming on strong. Oh, Lord I love you. Please hear my prayer and sustain me with your strength now as I have labored long and I weary.

It was your hand that upheld Mussie and me.

It was was your hand that upheald Finn and me.

It is your hand now that I rest in, knowing she rests there too.
 

And, yes.... of course....the too small dresses were sold to the consigment shop so that new ones would be waiting.

One Dish Per Person Update

It has only been two days and already the dishes are less of a burden. The new system is working out better than expected, so good in fact that I called my sister and just like any good and responsible older sibling promptly told her exactly what to do. (Ah, Beaner. Please move here).
The truth of the matter is, though, that I am pretty darn blown away how one simple act of genuine simplification actually....worked.   And, it ways I had not expected. 

Each boy now takes his own bin to the table at breakfast, sets his own place, and keeps his bin on the floor next to his chair. We eat, laugh, make messes, carry on, and when the meal is through each boy puts his dirty dishes back into his bin, carries them on his own to the sink, scrapes, and washes them himself. Finn needs a little help, here, but it is such a pleausre to help a two year old wash his own dishes that I do not mind at all. The pure joy of the water and the facet and the bubbles make this task a treat even if his shirt does get soaked three times a day. The bins are then placed right back into the cabinet with thier clean dishes ready for the next meal. Its amazing. I have not washed a single child sized dish in three days. 

For the past three days I have been giving a lot of remindres and demonstrating what to do with the bins. At dinner tonight we finished off the eggs (actually, we had to go make more because these boys are eating machines now). On his own....without Mommy or Daddy saying a word, my five year old got up, thanked me for the meal, carried his dirty dishes in his bin into the sink, washed them, and put them away. He came to me and said, "Can I go watch Whinnie the Pooh now?"  I looked at his clean dishes. I looked at the suds on his shirt. And, you better believe that boy watched Whinnie the Pooh tonight.

For three solid days I have cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner from scratch.  That includes making all of the breads, sauces, everything. And, for three solid days I have not fretted about the kitchen once. Having only one set of dishes per person has rocked the kitchen mess into something totally and completely controllable. I am enjoying my time in the kitchen. I am not freaking out and burden by mess. Our entire little family is united around this one common goal AND not once have we missed a single dish that we packed away....not once!

Wondering what else can change, what else can I let go, pass on, and reconsider. What do we really need to function so that we can really, truly, authentically, wildely, bravely, passionately, restfully, peacefully, compassionately, and joyfully Live? 

Well, for starters we don't need a lot of dishes. The cuboards are a bit bare, but not empty...more like feet that have kicked off their shoes and are one step closer to the beach.

Simplify: Mission One

Even the word simplify appeals to me. I like the way it sounds. My entire body relaxes at the mere thought of simplicity. At the thought of something simple I think cotton sheets on a summer day, light and breezy.  Simplicity is a buzz word right now. You can go into just about any store with home decorations and find things that say, "Simplify".  And, people are buying those up. In my own neighborhood two people have mailboxes that have that word painted onto them with flowers right next to the little red flag. Yet, on trash day the gigantic bins piled high with garbage seem a stark contrast to that very message. And it is here that I wonder if we are truly in a season of simplification in our lives than do we need another sign to hang on the wall that says "simplify"? Isn't that in all actuallity just one more soldier on the Stuff side fighting against us with wasting our energy and time and finances...and for that matter natural resources?  

These past few years as my family has grown and there are more tummies to fill, books to read, adventures to embark on, and well.....laundry to do I have really started to reconsider the word simplify.  And, I do not mean buying a sign and hanging it on my wall. I mean....actually simplifying with a purpose.

One of the questions that Jason and I asked ourselves by candle light on New Years Eve from these questions is this, "What are some of your biggest time wasters?"  The answers to this question for me were all around in the form of a unkempt house that I labor daily trying to upkeep. The funny thing is I hardly ever get to the actual cleaning. Can't tell the last time my floors were mopped or the book case dusted. My time is spent in mere upkeep of STUFF.....the organizing of it, the picking it up off of the floor, the cleaning it, the justifying it, the feeling burdened by it, and all the other its that come with stuff.

It makes me wonder perhaps if I could do so many of those beautiful things my soul craves each day if perhaps the stuff were, well, gone.

Dishes, one of my time wasters.  Spending time in my kitchen is not the problem, it one of my favorite rooms. Baking, cooking, teaching, simply being in the kitchen as bread bakes and the kids spill flour ont the counter and write pictures with their fingers.  The kitchen is home to me. Yet, the time I spend in the kitchen is not mostly laboring over the meals and teaching math to the boys through measurment it is doing all of those dog-gone dishes~ three times and sometimes more each day! My family fills a dishwasher every single day and the dishes are non stop.  I expressed this to Jason, this time waster that consumes my energy and takes time I could be resting, playing, loving, serving, and drowns it in a hundred cups and bowls and endless spoons.

He said, in that every so calm and practical way that a man can say things, "What if we just had one set of dishes for each of us?" My eye brows went up, with hope and wonder.

One Cup
One Bowl
One Plate
One Fork
One Knife
One Spoon
One Coffee Cup
One Placemat

ONE.    Now, that sounds like simplification to me.
Today was our mission number one is reducing the STUFF that wastes the precious resources the God has given. I started with the kids things. For my two children we had 12 bowls, 13 plates, and I lost count of the cups somewhere after we hit the teens. Each child chose thier favorites and in the cabinet that used to house a chaotic selection of dinnerware they now each have ONE little bin with everything they need for all three meals. They carried thier bins to the table and set their own places with actually made such a smoother transition to our meal anyway. They carried thier dirty stuff back in the bins, we washed it immediately in the sink and put it back so it is ready and waiting for breakfast.

Jason and I did the same with cups. We each chose a favorite cup and put the rest away....as in in a box, a taped box, that will hopefully go to Goodwill as soon as we make certain we can do this!
The goal is to reduce our plates, bowls, utensils, etc through the week. The China cabinet already houses a set of hardly used dishes and we will keep those for when friends and family come over. But, the daily maintainance just got a whole lot eaiser and already I feel a little lighter.

Mission One: The Dishes is in progress!

Closets and Drawers watch out, your next. :)