tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21617104227877973592024-03-12T19:41:19.080-04:00My Hope Fulfilledhope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is tree of life. proverbs 13:12Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.comBlogger492125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-15118801673758696322023-01-28T22:29:00.001-05:002023-01-28T22:39:43.651-05:00The Moments I Became Her Mother<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #18191b;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;"><b>Moment 1: The Call + Decision</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">Ava was born on January 12, 2022.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">I don’t know what I was doing that day.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">I do know I was being sentimental, reflecting how on this day 18 years earlier (Jan 12, 2004), Herb had asked me to be his girlfriend after sliding a paper across the table at Denny’s. On the paper? A list of my attributes and his shortcomings, a page of analysis about us dating.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">But I know where I was the next day - January 13.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">I was showing off my new puppy, Ginger, to a friend who said, “You finally got your little girl!”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">A quick laugh turned into a reflective (short-lived) time of grieving that I would never have a little girl whose hair needed to be braided before school.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">Grieving that the door had closed on our baby years and adoption stories, and while I was so blessed with two sons, I would never have a daughter.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Late that night (9:30 pm), a call came from our social worker.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This was unexpected as our foster care license was set to expire and we had no intention to renew it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><blockquote style="text-align: left;"><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"></p></blockquote><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">“Sometimes we have babies who come through the domestic infant program who are harder to place because of medical needs.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">We are compiling a list of families who might be interested in being open to a situation like that.”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span><span style="color: #18191b;"> </span><br /></span><blockquote style="text-align: left;"></blockquote><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You can put us on that list,” we replied.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;"><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;"><br /></span></div>That was an easy yes.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">Ambiguous and vague and non-committal.</span><br /><span style="color: #18191b;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">“Ok great, because there was a baby born yesterday.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: #18191b;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #18191b;">Would you like to hear more?”</span><br /></span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">[Gulp. ]</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-family: times;">"Yes, go ahead," we answered nervously.</span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">We proceeded to learn about a baby with severe hydrocephalus, who was actually doing quite well for the diagnosis.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> She spent time explaining everything she had learned about hydrocephalus and trying to explain all the unknowns about the disease and its effects on this child.</span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">We asked a few questions, and finally a burning one - "Can you tell us the baby's gender?"</span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">We were warned: “I will tell you, but it will be harder to think logically about this situation once you know the gender of the baby.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">"Ok. You can tell us."</span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">We proceeded to learn that the baby was a girl.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I buried my face in the covers on the bed where we sat. There was no way I was going to be able to say no.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And to be fair, I have a feeling I would have thought that whether she said boy or girl. We ended the call with a request to let them know in the next couple of days if we would like to move forward.</span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Herb and I didn’t talk much that night.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I sensed he was hesitant.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was overwhelmed with the what ifs and the question marks about the baby’s future health and what that would imply for our family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">For the next three days (Friday, Saturday, Sunday), I did what I could to not dwell on this baby girl with every waking thought, but I failed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I googled incessantly, learning EVERYTHING I could about hydrocephalus. I poured over her medical records and googled every term and code.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I asked friends who worked in special ed about it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I talked to a someone who had a friend of a friend with hydrocephalus.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> It seemed like the more I researched, the less sure I was about this baby's potential outcomes. She could have trouble learning how to read all the way to she could be wheel chair bound and/or never be verbal. The spectrum was enormous.</span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Whenever I relied on my research I felt overwhelmed and nervous about the prognosis of the baby.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>How could we add such intensity to our lives, especially when Levi didn’t even want to have another kid in the family?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> And w</span>as it fair to ask Levi and Joey and our friends/family/community to be super flexible with hospital stays and support us in this? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">But whenever I closed my computer and prayed, or listened to worship music and hymns, or sat in church, I felt PERFECT peace.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It’s so obvious now that that was how the Lord was speaking to me and comforting me., However, it took me a few days to realize the perfect peace accompanied a resounding YES only when I was intentionally asking the Lord for an answer and dwelling in his presence.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It’s quite beautiful, really.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">On Sunday morning, the third day I knew Ava existed, Herb and I had yet to really discuss the situation and what our answer would be.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We had house guests and jobs to do and were just so busy that weekend.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So there I sat on Sunday morning, crying my way through church.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Completely enveloped in the comfort of the Lord during worship and grateful for his peace.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And it was there, during the sermon, that the pastor reminded us that in heaven <b><i>all things are being made new</i></b>.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In my mind I thought “Even a baby with a severely injured brain will be made new in heaven.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Because this earth and its troubles are not our home.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In that moment I knew two things to be true:</span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1. THIS WAS MY DAUGHTER.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>2. I would wait for the Holy Spirit to convict Herb of the same thing and not try to convince him myself.</span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: times;">The Lord was faithful to do so. Monday morning we gave the adoption agency a yes.</span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">The next two weeks were a flurry of paperwork. We quickly updated our home study.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We renewed our clearances.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We crammed in 10 hours of continuing adoption education.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We loosely told friends that we may be adopting - but we were still waiting to meet and be approved by the birth family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> Then came</span> dinner with Ava’s birth family and when we saw Ava’s picture for the first time.</span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Moment 2: The Choosing</span></b></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">On Monday, January 24, Ava’s birthparents asked if we would adopt their daughter.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">They were shocked and pleased that we were willing to have an open adoption with them. They were happy that we were willing to care for a child with medical needs and grateful that we felt comfortable in the hospital.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">And then told us that Ava would be ready to come home that weekend! The last we knew, she would be in the NICU for about another month - not a mere matter of days! What a fabulous and perfect surprise. </span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Our parents had been in the dark about the baby - we didn't want to tell them anything until we knew for sure that we were getting a baby! I really wanted to surprise them with the baby already in our home, but that felt too tricky. We spent Monday night telling our kids and friends and family. The Lord also did a beautiful work in Levi's heart that made him ready for a new baby sibiling (we had kept the kids in the loop the whole time leading up to this - but that's a story for another day).</span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">When we called Herb's mom she said, “We were praying that you’d have a little girl!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We were done with kids!” We said to them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Yes, that’s why we were praying,” she replied. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">On Tuesday morning I bought a crib, quickly set it up, and surprised my mom. "Go check out Joey's room, he wants to show you something." </span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKc4NDyhhSFgiaqOiXogaziA_LskBUGXzu9RpbdcLf-ZgxU8KqASxHnO0oT1Wj2DeHrFEqdOq5_UcWFyptVKB7RjGiUD99iZ8gBo3Pvu5G8qMqbGt2gQAlLEanQOnZBEp6vOAlho7uEL3ZfoseSOjzm7u7N9WWbOGKE5kmMLvrTDOPNlSLRW-47j9UVA/s4032/129FBC50-547C-4053-A9F1-D83326B5FFFB.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKc4NDyhhSFgiaqOiXogaziA_LskBUGXzu9RpbdcLf-ZgxU8KqASxHnO0oT1Wj2DeHrFEqdOq5_UcWFyptVKB7RjGiUD99iZ8gBo3Pvu5G8qMqbGt2gQAlLEanQOnZBEp6vOAlho7uEL3ZfoseSOjzm7u7N9WWbOGKE5kmMLvrTDOPNlSLRW-47j9UVA/s320/129FBC50-547C-4053-A9F1-D83326B5FFFB.heic" width="240" /></span></a></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Moment 3: The Meeting</span></b></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">On Friday, January 28, we dropped off Levi at school, Joey at a friend’s house, and drove to CHOP.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We took a picture of ourselves in the parking garage with masks on, about to go meet our daughter.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We weaved through the hospital and finally reached her room.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She was so tiny in the big cot with the sides up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She had a feeding tube and we quickly learned how to use it and how to handle her.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She was in our arms within a few minutes and her five pounds felt like nothing on your chest.</span></p><p class="p4" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">She was ours.</span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoeHvaEC5qJJQnZo5Ey4Fm3vbgP9jBqdpy7JKWZ22CKQB1SOPa2MiPmJ_KCdqMOoafrXaJSalmjjloNon9iutZRrNNYJ22dp0ioi2HAsMQZOBYxKlsQ-zrDTs3E0Li_qmlFas5MgNj2ySQbDNAwkUYE8Ylv7I-enZhnMAb_AL_e66q1SuLjPdbTkvt3A/s3088/5BCB89D5-3FEC-4D20-A55B-53A58C16B005.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoeHvaEC5qJJQnZo5Ey4Fm3vbgP9jBqdpy7JKWZ22CKQB1SOPa2MiPmJ_KCdqMOoafrXaJSalmjjloNon9iutZRrNNYJ22dp0ioi2HAsMQZOBYxKlsQ-zrDTs3E0Li_qmlFas5MgNj2ySQbDNAwkUYE8Ylv7I-enZhnMAb_AL_e66q1SuLjPdbTkvt3A/s320/5BCB89D5-3FEC-4D20-A55B-53A58C16B005.heic" width="320" /></span></a></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFk3_2Am8x5UGxBNWng6YixSYA7QyZbQqvx_G9v7D6H3QweayWol0k4KdsxVRj_NfzU0NEZO1uKNVGjHn16_-nb-6wZZ6bZuXVKshMQtk6AIXim-0-HTmgr3qpaDDv467rz4-GPUmYRag8F5XahZHuMUYqEsNX6v0NOIdkEmBR8SYpYvyHXzxTmsyLWQ/s4032/C55F540D-C8BD-4C6E-AD71-42A887E4E8BB.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFk3_2Am8x5UGxBNWng6YixSYA7QyZbQqvx_G9v7D6H3QweayWol0k4KdsxVRj_NfzU0NEZO1uKNVGjHn16_-nb-6wZZ6bZuXVKshMQtk6AIXim-0-HTmgr3qpaDDv467rz4-GPUmYRag8F5XahZHuMUYqEsNX6v0NOIdkEmBR8SYpYvyHXzxTmsyLWQ/s320/C55F540D-C8BD-4C6E-AD71-42A887E4E8BB.heic" width="240" /></span></a></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; color: #18191b; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFqgKZ1HFFkDerH0oH6FFFX0fPmKu9mqvKYY1rAdferVgrpU8IE7byAte6ZL4K3-NqGnl3lIWPc357dO-wTQhty5pI1WEi4ny_vREsBAL3rYlL8RZtC53PDOWWJdg5At9QRrNQyUpQBLyywVclHspyBfFjat9ziS1QGqRXHlns77Q4Q90E-6GvlGehw/s4032/57900E4E-7109-429F-A9D5-6D54EC104350.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFqgKZ1HFFkDerH0oH6FFFX0fPmKu9mqvKYY1rAdferVgrpU8IE7byAte6ZL4K3-NqGnl3lIWPc357dO-wTQhty5pI1WEi4ny_vREsBAL3rYlL8RZtC53PDOWWJdg5At9QRrNQyUpQBLyywVclHspyBfFjat9ziS1QGqRXHlns77Q4Q90E-6GvlGehw/s320/57900E4E-7109-429F-A9D5-6D54EC104350.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></p>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-58118019782401633942018-04-12T12:52:00.004-04:002018-04-12T12:58:45.626-04:00On The Wedding Day of My Little Sister<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">This past weekend, Wendi married the love of her life, Luke.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">To anyone who knows us in real life, you now that the planning of this wedding was less than smooth. But what is ridiculously amazing is how seamlessly the wedding weekend went. What an incredible blessing that weekend was.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The bridal party and families of the couple, nearly two dozen people who were previously strangers, bonded in a way that can only come when you deeply love the same people and absolutely want the best for them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am going to share my toast below, because I want to always remember the feeling of joy I had that day - in fact, that joy was nearly as strong as June 24, 2006, my own wedding day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The day after the wedding I asked Luke what snapshots he will carry with him of that day <a href="http://www.myhopefulfilled.com/2015/06/nine.html">(I wrote about my own once</a>) - he mentioned finishing touches on his vows in a coffee shop that morning, spending forever trapped in the bathroom at the venue because that was the safest place to not see his bride, being very present during the ceremony, and dancing with all his friends.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm going to share my own snap shots. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The first one happened when I walked down the aisle, just before the ring bearer (Levi) and flower girl (Joelle). Having shed many tears the night before at rehearsal, I felt confident in my ability to keep it together at the wedding. Until I saw Herb. He led the first half of the ceremony, delivering a homily about the first couple on earth and how they relate to the covenant that Wendi and Luke would be making. Herb, standing at the end of an aisle, looking very dapper. I couldn't look away, and I couldn't stop the tears. I love him so.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I haven't seen a picture of this second moment yet, but I'm really hoping that the photographer, crouched down behind my back during the ceremony caught the view that I saw. It is as clear to me as a beautiful picture, #nofilter.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The indoor wedding took place under a string of edison bulbs, graciously donated by <a href="https://www.straypro.com/">Stray Production Services</a> and painstakingly strung by Herb, Joey, and Morgan. As you will read below, the wedding was never supposed to be inside, but the weather deemed it necessary. I joked to Wendi that the awkward pillars in the room would become the thing that made the best decoration. And, it acutally happened. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anyway - as Wendi stood in the middle of that room, facing her groom who had a constant supply of tears, the lights illuminated her in an angelic way. I don't know if it was really there, or just the way I saw it, but she glowed. Literally, an orange light shone all around her. Bouncing from her soft curls to her shoulders to her face.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In that momemt, my snap shot, if you will, for the first time I saw my little annoying steals my stuff copies of me sister as a woman. Sure, it's been a lot of years since I saw her as a baby, or felt annoyed at the make up she stole, but in this moment I truly saw her as an adult, making a huge committment, being fully present. I felt so full of love and pride for her that I could have burst - and I guess I did kind of...at least out of my eyes. Constantly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">What a blessing the wedding weekend was to all who were there. Thank you, Wendi and Luke, for letting me be a part of it, and for the light and life you bring to our family.</span><br />
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maid of Honor Toast</span></u></b><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">When you called to tell me you were engaged, the first thing you said was, "I hope you're ready to help me with a DIY wedding." And now, here we are, </span>your DIY wedding has come together!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">From midnight phone calls while you were in Hong Kong to daily goodwill trips to countless hours on Pinterest and amazon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The intentionality and purpose to which you applied to this celebration are evident in every detail.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">And why should we be surprised that you wanted a DIY wedding - you have lived her whole life with a “do it myself” attitude. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">You walked at nine months old.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You stole the lead in the high school musical as an 8th grader (Rosie in Bye Bye Birdie). You started college before finishing high school.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> You</span> followed your love of theater to New York, Florida, Oklahoma, Hong King, Maine, and the Atlantic Ocean.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">We have had the privilege to be spectators and cheerleaders and maybe sometimes even naysayers to your independent and spontaneous vagabond life, filled with crazy adventures and challenges to be overcome.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">I was thinking about the time you asked Josh and I<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>(and some friends) to tie you up to the mail box.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We place a “for sale,” sign on you.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Spoiler alert - there were no takers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We tease you about asking to be tied up, but even in that we see your ability to take control of a situation - even be bullied by your terrible older siblings on your own terms. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">We have witnessed you face problems with ease and confidence - you can handle it all.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>you can do it herself.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And as Grandma like to say, you always land on your feet. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">And now, you never have a reason to do it by yourself anymore.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>God has brought you a partner who compliments you in every way.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Your relationship is like a beautiful duet - sometimes you each have you moment of spotlight, but the best parts are when you are singing in harmony, ebbing and flowing together.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sometimes there is dissonance, but it’s always followed by resolution.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Even when you and Luke are separated by distance or when you, Lord willing, have babies who exhaust you and you feel like ships passing in the night, you will always have a partner, a supporter, a helper.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">The moments in life that seem like the biggest obstacles are often the things that lead to the greatest beauty. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">For example, planning a quick thrifty wedding from the other side of the world gave you and I a chance to work together and bond and love each other in a deeper way.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Everyone here may not know this - but today’s ceremony had been slated to be outdoors, but last week Wendi and Luke, seeing the forecast, chose to move the wedding indoors.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the basement, the pillars caused quite a headache. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">And what did we all witness an hour ago? That sometimes the greatest obstacles lead to the greatest beauty.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The most clashing dissonance leads to the sweetest resolution.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">You and Luke have faced and will face many obstacles and challenges and moments of dissonance.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I encourage you to face them together, seek God’s guidance, and work with expectancy that trials will lead to growth and beauty.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Luke - I am So happy that Wendi has found someone to handle her drama and craziness.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I can say that because she’s my little sister - but none of you better say it!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You are supportive and steady and balance her.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I see the way you treat her with utter respect and I thank you for that. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You are the perfect addition to our family and bring such vibrancy and humor. Additionally, Levi pointed out that today you gain a new title - Uncle. Congratulations, today you have become an uncle!</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">I love you both so much.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We all do. Seeing you surrounded this weekend by the people you hold so dear has made me appreciate you more deeply. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">We all have been spectators to a beautiful love story, and we are all committed to rally around you and support your happily ever after. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<b><u></u></b>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-57706145007446649852018-02-17T08:39:00.001-05:002018-02-17T08:39:51.887-05:00To the Previous Owners of Our House<div class="p1">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JNbyerRYtyo/WogwPewb5RI/AAAAAAAAMng/rzQ11eQeU7AbcWMh7-mne1ZCrQ4P-_YyACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/16730597_10101224219606250_7085900046511621501_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JNbyerRYtyo/WogwPewb5RI/AAAAAAAAMng/rzQ11eQeU7AbcWMh7-mne1ZCrQ4P-_YyACK4BGAYYCw/s200/16730597_10101224219606250_7085900046511621501_n.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>One year ago today, Herb and I purchased a new home. I gave this letter to the previous owners the day they signed their home of 30 years over to us and moved to a retirement community. As I reread this words today, I was reminded how blessed we are to be here. Everything we set out to do with this house (in the letter) has already come to fruition, and then some. </i></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Dear Joan and Melvin,</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Recently, we helped my grandparents sell their home of forty years and move to Fairmount Homes, and while a bittersweet transition, it was really nice for them to know who had bought their house. They found peace in thinking about the joy their house would bring to another family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have been thinking that I would love the chance to tell you how excited we are to live here.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The first time I saw the listing, I immediately noticed the bold front door and wondered why such a nice house showed up in our price range. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The turquoise door was the color of my bridesmaid’s dresses ten years ago, and the color of my beloved fiestaware.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The love between aqua/teal/turquoise and I runs deep enough that nearly every one of my friends and family would be quick to tell you it’s my favorite.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Imagine my surprise when we visited the house for the first time and saw the color carried in to so many corners of the house.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I especially like the door in the den and cabinets in the garage.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My husband, Herb, is a shop supervisor at Clair Brothers in Manheim and a seminary student, I am a self-employed music teacher, and we are both worship leaders at our church.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We met the first day of marching band at Millersville University in 2002, where we both majored in music.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So of course, we had another good laugh when we realized this property was located on Harmony Hill Drive.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While I currently teach at a music studio, someday soon I am hoping to turn the den behind the garage into a home studio where I teach piano and guitar lessons. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Our son, Levi, is six years old and attends kindergarten at Veritas Academy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This was one of the main reasons we ended up in this end of the county. We are excited to be so central to so many of the attractions that makes Lancaster special.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We love<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>spending time in the city and I am hoping, now that we are closer to it, to make more of a routine of getting produce from central Market.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">In addition to Levi, we have been attempting to add to our family through adoption for the last three years.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It’s been a loooooooong and hard journey, filled with bumps, losses, and grief.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This house represents a fresh start for our family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Not only is it the nicest house we’ve ever lived in, but it’s going to allow our family to grow as we move in to the area of foster care. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I can’t wait to have room to entertain overnight guests and a place to send the kid(s) to </span></span><a ajaxify="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10101224219606250&set=a.884602492710.2213584.35901323&type=3&size=640%2C640&source=13&player_origin=memories" class="_4-eo _2t9n _50z9" data-ft="{"tn":"E"}" data-ploi="https://scontent.fagc1-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/16730597_10101224219606250_7085900046511621501_n.jpg?oh=a355575c05beec25636b7337c5e61b57&oe=5B0B1C3D" data-render-location="homepage_stream" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10101224219606250&set=a.884602492710.2213584.35901323&type=3" rel="theater" style="width: 470px;"></a></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">rough house in the basement.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I imagine Levi sitting at the counter doing his homework while I make dinner.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am already planning picnics and large family dinners.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Levi is excited to explore the “forest” behind the shed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Herb is excited to finally have a little office nook (the nook in the master bedroom) - a bright and quite place to do his reading and writing for seminary.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My grandma, who I mentioned now lives in a retirement home, has a passion for flowers, and is greatly looking forward to seeing what pops up out of the flower beds, which we can tell you have lovingly cared for.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">As you can see, this house is more than just a 1400 square foot, energy efficient, well maintained beautiful property to us - it is our hope fulfilled. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am praying that wherever you have transitioned to brings you as much happiness as I know this property will bring us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Thank you for loving it well; I promise we will carry that on.</span></span></div>
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</style>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-78209340994805557342017-09-05T22:06:00.002-04:002017-09-06T13:09:51.969-04:00Beautiful ScarsMy seven year old son Levi is adorable. Dark brown eyes set below sandy hair with a cowlick off to the side. "Mommy, why did you lick me when I was a baby?" he has asked more than once, truly thinking I am to blame for the hair not lying down. He's got light skin with olive under tones and tans easily. Long lashes, button nose, rounded ears, and a red smile that frames white teeth transitioning from baby to man. <br />
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However, none of these things are root of compliments and comments on his sweet appearance. No, it's ALWAYS about this...see if you can spot it...<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">His dimple.</span></b></div>
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Just one one side, unnoticeble unless he's smiling, in which case it takes the spotlight. Someone recently caught a photo of Levi in mid laugh, and that sweet little dimple is just the star of the show.<br />
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It's ironic that this is one of his sweetest features. He did not have it at birth; it wasn't supposed to be there. His dimple is a scar. A scar that formed after a semi-traumatic injury to a then three year old who needed four stitches to mend it.<br />
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An amazingly well placed facial laceration. <br />
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Just in case you don't believe me...<br />
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I have to be honest, I struggled with whether or not to share this picture of Levi, because it's so raw. I remember the sad emotions and feelings of helplessness and failure. Watching your children suffer is every parent's kryptonite. Looking at this picture brings tears to my eyes.<br />
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Four years later, this scar is still with him. And I kind of love it. A silver lining of the best kinds. How can it be that his injury made his already adorable self <i>that much</i> cuter. In a way, physically speaking, a scar actually made him better - added something special to his already great self.<br />
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This time last year I went on a cruise. I can't stop reminiscing about how gloriously relaxing and healing that trip was for me. It was that trip where I realized grief had stopped constantly hurting me and was healing nicely - leaving behind just a scar. I toured beautiful mountains and seascapes in Maine and Canada, finding great delight in the fact that the cruise sailed North, and that's just where my mental state was finally headed. It was truly a turning point.<br />
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Just like looking at that above picture of Levi - seeing pictures of dark times in my life triggers the sad feelings. When I see pictures of the beach trip we took after an emotional hurricane and happened to meet face to face with a real hurricane, my heart tugs - those memories are still there. But the memories don't cause me more pain - they just are. They are part of my scars. <br />
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My therapist has often asked if grief, loss, and our adoption journey has changed me. Yes, resounding yes. Strangely enough, I grateful for those changes, despite the method at which they were delivered.<br />
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I feel stronger. Stronger emotionally, stronger spiritually. I am more confident, less easily deceived. I am more empathetic, more grateful.<br />
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Seems like my scars actually made me better - helped me to grow, learn, change. <br />
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This picture shows the scars - Levi's dimple, me holding baby J, and on my face I see everything that has changed in me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo cred: <a href="http://sallybellephotography.zenfolio.com/">Sally Belle Photography,</a> filter added later to keep things vague for Baby J</td></tr>
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<br />Isn't this kind of the fascinating tension God has established for us? He creates something wonderful, but gives us the ability to change it (cultivate it), though sometimes at the cost of destruction. For example - God created plants like wheat and grapes, which are so pretty on their own, but broken, crushed, and completely destroyed, can yield something else beautiful - bread and wine.<br />
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For example - His own Son, Jesus, created in and lived out perfection, but broken, crushed, and completely destroyed, yielded something else beautiful - redemption for His people.<br />
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Seems like His scars made it <b><i>all</i></b> better.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-4885169865693138822017-08-29T12:00:00.000-04:002017-08-29T12:00:02.006-04:00Ticker Tape ParadeA cool air has settled over Lancaster County this week. The kind of weather that begs you to do yard work on a Saturday and end the day with a fire, bundled up in blankets. So, that's what we did.<br />
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"You know Levi, when you sit around the campfire, you have to have deep conversations," I teased our now-seven-year-old son. The three of us (Herb, Levi, and I) ate hot dogs and cookie dough, and the feelings of joy, contentment, and love were as thick as the smoke from the fire. <br />
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Here we sat, in our new back yard, discussing Herb's new position at work and the upcoming school year in a community that we love, listening to the hum of the white noise on the baby monitor, telling us our new baby was sleeping soundly. <br />
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Somehow we ended up down a rabbit trail, trying to remember if the year Herb was hospitalized for a week with an unknown fever, shortly followed by a terrible run in with shingles, was before or after his friend tragically died, and whether or not we had been introduced to any "potential birth moms" yet. Was that the same year he started seminary or was it the year of the disastrous and life-changing extended family situation? We didn't even mention when we were financially strapped and underwater on a house we couldn't afford in a location an hour away from work and church, that led to two moves and less than ideal housing situations.<br />
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We reveled at the gravity of each of the situations, now in our rear view mirror. Chuckling because of the non-chalant way which we talked about each of these moments. Each individually frustrating or devestating, and together compiled for over half a decade of struggle.<br />
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"It was a really hard few years, wasn't it" I asked. "Being Levi's mom has been the best time of my life, but outside of parenthood, there have been so many challenges."<br />
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And then, like a ton of bricks, the irony of it all hit me, causing me to gasp. From 2010 to 2016 it was one thing after another - 6 years of trials.<br />
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"You know, Herb, the last year has been pretty great." I know<a href="http://www.myhopefulfilled.com/2017/06/break-madness-find-shore.html"> I've written about that before, </a>but it all dawned on me in a new way. The seventh year of Levi's little life was a milestone year for our family - growth, renewal, freedom, forgiveness, restoration - in nearly every way possible.<br />
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"It's almost like this was our <a href="https://www.gotquestions.org/Jubilee.html">Year of Jubilee!</a>"<br />
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Herb, always the cynic, laughed, but said, "I wouldn't read too much in to it - I don't think it's prophetic."<br />
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Prophetic? No. Ironic? Sure.<br />
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However, it gave me pause. In an instant, my brain and heart finally caught up to reality. <br />
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There was battle after battle after battle. Some battles were victorious and some left carnage that I hope to never experience again. And the final battle - the one that asked the very vulnerable and hopeful adoptive/foster momma to sit in a NICU, advocating for and loving unconditionally a little guy who may or may not become her forever-baby - took every ounce of strength I had gained from all that had not killed me before. That final mental battle was so so so incredibly difficult, that when it came to an end a month ago, and we knew that Baby J was staying with us forever, I still couldn't let go of my brokenness. I still walked around like this wounded and weary survivor.<br />
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Sound the trumpets, shred the paper, let the nurses kiss the sailors in the street, it's time for the Ticker Tape Parade. I am so ready to celebrate. We survived, but more importantly, in the times when we didn't thrive, we never walked alone. Every mile mattered, and nothing was for waste. <br />
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I hesitated to share this little joke about our "Year of Jubilee," because it's not a promise that if you trust God all your wildest dreams will come true...that's only if you <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEJFWoAVJz4">vote for Pedro.</a> But I want to stand beside people in their battles, Rosie the Riveter style. Let's role up our sleeves and do the hard work of trusting God, even when hope seems lost. Let's ask each other for help and encouragement. Let's embrace the beauty that comes when we realize joy and grief can coexist. <br />
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Here's the number one thing struggles have taught me - when it all falls apart, I can still have peace and joy. Why? Because my ultimate joy is not in this world - as <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3oh_koDGnW0">this song says</a>, "What a relief it is to know that in Christ, my joy is complete." The hard times have pressed me in to that truth and made me that much more grateful for anything good that was happening in life, and hopefully, that much more empathetic to those who hurt.<br />
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Finally, please send tissues, because now that I'm mentally here, my eyes won't stop celebrating. <br />
<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-42254432573643283092017-08-27T15:45:00.003-04:002017-08-27T15:45:46.181-04:00Two ReasonsThe sharpied sign pointed around the corner and around the ramp. The back entrance to the church gymnasium was propped open with a crib mattress. The room was lined with rows of tables, littered with baby gear, and streaming with mommas. I walked behind a very pregnant lady, and fought the urge to justify my presence.<br />
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(This is a thing I fought mentally all the time - no... I wasn't pregnant, but yes...I was really expecting, yes...I should still prepare. No one challenges me on these things, it's just the internal dialogue for many people who build their family through adoption.)<br />
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I zoomed past the tables that were exploding with pink and purple and gravitated towards the one with a little bit of blue, but mostly whites and greens. I inspected some baby gear as I considered the cash in my wallet. <br />
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The year was 2016, and we had just been matched for the second time, with an expecant mom who was planning to make an adoption plan. In the year prior, when we were waiting for Addison, our first match, I hardly bought a thing that was specific for her. One purple cloth diaper cover, one pink shag rug (from a yard sale), four watercolor print storage bins, and a pink bottle. Everything else that was in preparation for her was gender neutral...or not purchased.<br />
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Like a car seat.<br />
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Levi's infant seat had expired and for whatever reason, I just COULD NOT bring myself to purchase a new one for Addison. I KNEW we were going to need it, but I just couldn't cross that bridge. And in hindsight, what a blessing that we didn't. If you know our story, you know why - because it would have been a pink car seat in my car waiting for a little girl who was not coming home in it. A little girl who did not even exist.<br />
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So there I was, at the baby sale, willing myself to make a purchase. Tears stung my eyes and a lump swelled in my throat.<br />
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"Oh please God," I thought, "not a melt down here. Not now. I am happy to be here. I am grateful to being in baby prep mode. I am relieved that You are in the business of fulfilling hopes and redeeming loss."<br />
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Spending money on a baby that's not in my belly was admitting my vulnerability. Buying the bassinet would be showing that I was expecting a baby again, and would make my heart break that much worse if it did not come to pass, again.<br />
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I left the sale nearly empty handed. save for 3 clothing items. At the time, I felt sorry. Sorry for the reservation I held when it came to falling in love. Sorry that the minute that I knew of his beating heart, I couldn't give him all of mine. After all, my heart was still a little broken, and in the process of repair. I was sorry that he wasn't be celebrated like he deserved.<br />
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But the tears fell that fall day because of him - were they happy tears or sad tears, or a little bit of both?<br />
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This snapshot is etched in my memory. A mental photo of a time I clearly remember deciding my only option was to lean on the One who would author our story - and pray that His will was for our lives to not only intertwine.<br />
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And yet, it wasn't meant to be. The little guy that would have been name Micah was born and we discovered his arrival on Facebook, seeing his first picture in a bathroom at a pizza shop while my friends waited outside to pick up the pieces. His mom forewent her adoption plans, but very soon afterwards, he was placed in foster care. <br />
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Ironically, she had gifted me carseat just weeks before her delivery, which I kept, and use currently with our rainbow baby.<br />
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I share this story for two reasons.<br />
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I have spent the last year trying to find other people who experienced loss, whether adoption disruptions or miscarriage or marriage struggles, and tried to understand how long I would hurt, longing to know that I was normal for grieving so hard. <br />
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Our story has a happy ending now, grief is behind me, and it's time to start talking and filling the silence that I have left in the wake of the hard moments. I want to keep record of the broken road and be able to share this journey with Baby J someday. Because guess what, I didn't get to celebrate him either, because he came so suddenly. But you can be sure, we are spending the rest of our lives making up for lost time.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-32622096785159366252017-07-16T00:15:00.000-04:002017-07-16T00:54:21.851-04:00Post Tenebras Lux<div style="font-family: HelveticaNeue; font-size: 12px; text-size-adjust: auto;">
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Three months ago I had one of those perfectly joyful moments. Easter had just passed, which we enjoyed hosting in our brand new house. Herb was settling in to the demands of a new position at work while finishing up some difficult but enjoyable schoolwork. Levi was in a happy routine at school, and was still on a high from being in Disney a month prior. </div>
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I was driving home from worship team on this night, April 19, listening to <a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjVloe7kIXVAhVG4D4KHYxmBCIQyCkIKzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dzn7hdHEKy8E&usg=AFQjCNGZftRQdmQqofF3P4i4o5rWArYIvA">my favorite song by my favorite band,</a> and the thought crossed my mind, “I’m going to be all right.” </div>
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You probably know bits and pieces of the long and tumultuous journey through adoption we’ve experienced. There have been numerous uphill battles, and moments of such extreme heartbreak that I stood with the shattered pieces in my hands, bewildered. </div>
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36 weeks prior to that April 19th moment, a spark flew in my heart. “What if I surrender my desire for a baby?” And in that moment, ironically again in my car, on a hot August day, I prayed, “God, I give this to you. I want another baby so badly, and I know that you will either fulfill that desire, remove that desire, or change me through the process of having that desire unfulfilled.” </div>
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After that prayer, the very clear next step was for Herb and I to become certified to be foster parents. Of course, this process turned out to be much more arduous than we expected - but that’s kind of been par for this course.</div>
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So, back to April 19, in my car, joyfully reflecting on God’s faithfulness, and looking forward to our home study the following day, which would have us OFFICIALLY on the waiting list for foster care, ready to go at anytime. Bunk beds assembled, new tooth brushes and toiletries purchased.</div>
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Knowing how God works all things together for His glory and for the good of those who love Him, it should be of no surprise to me that that very night, April 19, a little tiny baby was born at 36 weeks gestation, suffering from some scary (though temporary) conditions, fighting for life in the NICU.</div>
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The next day, 15 minutes prior to our foster care home study, we were notified of and asked to be the foster parents of this precious child. The caveat was that of the Unknown - the baby may shortly be returning to birth parents, or they may be making an adoption plan, in which case we would become the adoptive parents.</div>
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Within 24 hours, the baby was in my arms and, more importantly, in my heart. </div>
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But really, it feels like he's always been there. </div>
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The moment I saw <span style="color: blue;"><b>his</b></span> face I had an overwhelming sense of <b>“Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” </b></div>
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{Unfortunately, I can’t show you a picture of this perfect little face just yet.}</div>
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This child, our first foster care placement became a "adoptive placement" 31 days ago. In Pennsylvania, 30 days is the time period that a birth family has to revoke their decision, though the adoption won't be official for another 6-9 months. </div>
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He arrived after a time of great pain in our lives, a heartbreaking time in the life of his first family, and was born in a stressful scary medical situation, but has been nothing but a beacon of light to all he has touched. </div>
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There’s a latin phrase for this - <span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>post tenebras, lux</b></span> - after darkness, light.</div>
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Our hope is fulfilled. As Levi, the-most-happy-big-brother-EVER, says, “I just can’t believe all my prayers are being answered.”</div>
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So, I would like to officially announce our most glorious news - we’re adopting, it’s a boy, he’s already here, and when his adoption is final, I will post a million and one pictures of this sweet baby.</div>
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Say hello to Baby J.</div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-26507960689945624072017-06-13T08:24:00.003-04:002017-06-13T08:24:22.910-04:00Break the Madness; Find the Shore<div style="background-color: white; color: #010300; font-family: futura-pt; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; word-wrap: break-word;">
<i><b>I'm not what I seem, only in this moment</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Only in this moment, I'm holding on</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Pray I find my peace, pray I slay the dragon</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Pray I break this madness, and find the shore</b></i></div>
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<i><b>{Gone - Kings Kaleidoscope}</b></i></div>
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Yesterday was my birthday. It was a landmark day - time to pause and look around and take in the views. Time to take stock of what life looks like now, at 33. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Levi and I at my birthday dinner</td></tr>
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<br />I kept thinking about my last birthday. We had just experienced not one, but two sudden and shocking losses through adoption. On the evening of my birthday, Levi took a picture of me and Herb mini golfing and I remember thinking I actually looked happy in that picture... much different than the deep pit of depression I was trying to claw myself out of.<br />
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My early thirties held some wonderful moments, but they also held my darkest times and deepest griefs.<br />
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I had all this brokenness and loss in my life over the past several years - and not just the adoption stuff - and while I knew I was moving on and healing, often I just visualized myself at the foot of God, hands full of shattered pieces of hopes and pain, asking Him,<br />
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<i>"What do you want me to do with this? It's too much to carry." </i><br />
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My only viable option? To continue to move forward, giving God the brokenness. Trusting Him to work all things together for His glory and my good, even when the forecast looked bleak or the requirements seemed challenging.<br />
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As the months passed, changes started happening. Slowly and steadily, one after another, hard situations and scenarios were restored and redeemed. <br />
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Strangely enough, I have felt so battle weary and been overwhelmed at the casualties along the way that I have not been ready for the ticker-tape victory parade. That day will come, I know, but for now, I want to take time to appreciate what has happened in my 33rd year.<br />
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- I decided to lay aside my desire for a baby and pursue foster care, saying, "God will either fulfill this desire, take it away, or sanctify me through the process of unfulfillment." We bought bunk beds.<br />
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- I had the chance to step back in the classroom, if only temporarily, and be reminded how much I love teaching. I needed to know this.<br />
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- Forgiveness and restored acquaintanceship.<br />
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- The amazing opportunity to take some "me" time and cruise with my sister and her boyfriend to New England and Canada. <br />
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- We casually looked at homes, and surprisingly, pulled the trigger. And then moved. We left behind a special community that I thought we would be in forever, but started a new adventure 12 miles away in a new part of the county, and felt like we got a complete fresh start.<br />
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- We said "yes" to our first foster care placement. <br />
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<b>(OH HOW I WISH I COULD </b></div>
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<b>POST A PHOTO OF THIS!!!)</b></div>
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Looking back at the past year, I don't know why I got to be so blessed; this is much more than I deserve. In fact, this list is almost embarrassing to post, because I don't want anyone to think I am bragging. If I boast, it is to the glory of God, who has journeyed with me, who has carried me, who has brought me from the desert into the time of harvest.<br />
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I'm reminded of the last verse of Desert Song, "I know I'm filled to be emptied again; this seed I've received I will sow."<br />
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Thank you for all the birthday wishes yesterday, but also the well wishes and prayers and check-ins during this journey. <br />
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To refer back to the original song I quoted, they end with some powerful words from the Psalms (which I know I've referred to before...but I'm doing it again)<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">therefore my heart is glad, </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">and my whole being rejoices...</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">in You, there is fulness of JOY</span></b></div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-88617663945734532342017-04-29T06:02:00.001-04:002017-04-29T06:02:30.158-04:00Open HandsAbout a month ago I experienced brokenness and conviction over my eating habits unlike anything I've felt before. My thought process was completely unhealthy and alarming, and the the food I was consuming was pure junk. When I consider the gravity of my mistakes and the work that it will take to correct what I've done, I am overwhelmed.<br />
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But, for the last 35 days, I wake up thinking, "Can I make healthy choices today? Yes." One day at a time has built upon each other, and has brought me here, a month later, without so much as a cheat. I pray that this is the beginning of a new journey, but can't wrap my mind around more than the next 24 hours.<br />
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This constant "one day at a time," mentality is benefitting me in more way than one...Last week, we committed to our first foster care situation. <br />
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This is big. This is really big.<br />
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And when I consider the gravity of what it means to put my heart on the line I can only handle one day at a time.<br />
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I am praying for God's perfect will to unfold for this precious child. I am praying for God's perfect will for our family. I am praying for God to restore and redeem this hard situation for the child's birth family.<br />
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I am losing sleep over the potential of more disappointment for Levi. Gratefully, he and I started seeing a child therapist a few months ago, giving him the ability to name his feelings and justification to feel all of them. <br />
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I am surviving on knowing the Lord walks with us in this journey. I am assured that our role to care for the fatherless, even if only for a brief period, is work which is commanded by God. <br />
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I am reminded that no love given is ever wasted.<br />
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My friend Kami to me this: <b>"The whole foster care process is such a good reminder that we hold everything God gives us with open hands. This child has to be that way - but the rest of our lives are really no different - we have just fooled ourselves into thinking we control it."</b><br />
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-26875735801801631582016-10-03T11:43:00.003-04:002016-10-03T16:53:59.529-04:00SpacesIn the process of grieving and moving on, one of my triggers has been spaces. They might be metaphorical, emotional, or actually physical - but they have tormented me.<br />
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These spaces take all forms.<br />
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There's the obvious space in our house. The room that got cleared to make a nursery, not once, but twice.<br />
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There's space in our family of perfectly evenly aged cousins, each 19 or 20 months apart. Number six is coming this month, and when they are all lined up, you will notice a big gap from cousin 5 to cousin 6 - the gap that our baby would have filled.<br />
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This is a stretch, maybe, but there's the empty space in the size 5 t-shirt that reads "big brother." The space from the hem of the shirt to the top of Levi's waist band, signifying the years lost. He was three when I got that shirt, expecting him to grow in to it by the time he became a big brother. I never dreamed he would have out-grown it.<br />
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There's space in the cabinet that I cleared for formula and bottles. The formula that I slowly stockpiled seemly quickly began to expire, so I gifted it to another family.<br />
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There's the space in my daily schedule where free time screams, "You should be caring for an infant."<br />
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There's space in my career that I didn't expect. This morning I sat in a coffee shop while Levi was at school, and beside me was a group of moms and their very rowdy toddlers. I never thought I would be past the little years already and find myself with so much free time.<br />
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It's odd to be a SAHM to one child, who is now in school. I found myself trying to fill these days with a job, feeling selfish for the privilege of time. Herb, so supportively, encouraged me to pursue things that have been on hold for the duration of the little years - reading, exercising, visiting with friends and family, investing in me.<br />
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And it's not just the school time space, but even the night time space after Levi is in bed and Herb is doing homework. Times when I expected to be washing diapers, doing late feedings, and rocking in to the late night hours.<br />
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I can tell you about these spaces now, because they are less severe - their edges have softened.<br />
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My counselor suggested a dedicated space for grief. I don't know if she actually meant to make a physical space or not, but for me, this is a basket tucked deep in to my closet. The basket holds the big brother shirt, Addison's quilt, and gifts I had purchased to give both of the expectant moms at birth. I struggled with holding on to these things - would I be wasting precious closet space?<br />
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The lie I have fought in the last year is that my grief is not deserved. <br />
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And when I step back from our situation and remove the element of adoption and just embrace the fact that I have lost two babies in the last year, the wasted closet space is at the bottom of my list of cares. If there had been an actual death of an actual human, of course I would grieve these spaces and allow myself the time and space to do so.<br />
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So I have. I am.<br />
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And slowly, some of the spaces are filled.<br />
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In the nursery, the crib has been returned to the attic, the newborn clothes carefully packed away or given away. In it's place, a set of bunk beds. <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-duGSyiZFNz4/V_J8iJHJ5RI/AAAAAAAAMT0/svA8FzQVtIo-uJonn5gO_MU3QU3P8j8fQCK4B/s1600/IMG_2336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-duGSyiZFNz4/V_J8iJHJ5RI/AAAAAAAAMT0/svA8FzQVtIo-uJonn5gO_MU3QU3P8j8fQCK4B/s400/IMG_2336.jpg" width="266" /></a>The bunk beds represent our future. Space to entertain (my sister! my in-laws! my nieces and nephews!). Space to plan for the future of our family - in fact, we have begun training to be foster care certified! That's going to be another story for another day, because, like most of my hopes fulfilled, that too is a story of God's redemptive goodness.<br />
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The cabinet spaces were not filled, but efficiently rearranged, completely able to be cleared for formula again if needed.<br />
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My schedule is filled with good things - but all flexible things, so that when the call of motherhood rings again, I can readily answer it.<br />
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And some spaces will never be filled. The cousin gap, the age gap between Levi and his future siblings, the spot in my heart - those will always remain empty and dedicated to the loss of Addison and Micah, but co-existing with the loss is hope, and by God's grace, peace.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-18767731496564940862016-09-28T09:54:00.001-04:002016-09-28T09:54:52.244-04:00Therefore, My Heart Is GladOne year ago today I sat in the den of my in-laws.<br />
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I had just returned from a tumultuous evening of walking around with our "expectant" birth-mom, trying to get labor started, and subsequently sleeping on her couch, just in case her water broke over night. Her "contractions" were five minutes apart, the car seat was in my car ready to bring a baby home, and everything in our life was ready to embrace Addison Renee, our soon-to-be-daughter. <br />
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Of course now I can point to the red flags we saw along the way, but until then, I was in denial until it all came crashing down. The preparations and the dreams died that morning when we realized we had been betrayed and fooled. Addison Renee would not become our daughter through the miracle of adoption because Addison Renee did not exist. <br />
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So, there I was in the den. Completely in survival mode, trying to figure out how to pack up my belongings (Levi and I had been staying in Western PA with my in-laws), avoiding Levi's questions, and just trying to remain positive. Burned in my memory is the moment that my mother-in-law walked through the door, stood in the door way and looked at me. I couldn't believe she had come home from work for me - the gravity of loss had not yet set in. She stood there, for just a second, as if to ask a question she couldn't form, and I simply shook my head. <br />
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In an instant, she had crossed the room, wrapped her arms around me, and as my face buried itself in her hug, I let out the sobs of a mother who had just lost a child.<br />
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And now, here we are, a year later. The weather is the same, I am not.<br />
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Last week, I had an incredible opportunity to visit my sister, Wendi, who worked on a cruise ship for the last year. This trip so perfectly bookended my year of grief and loss. I loved exploring cities of New England and Canada, and due to traveling alone and my sister's work schedule, lots of time by myself, my thoughts being my only companion.<br />
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Walking along the harbor in Saint John, New Brunswick, I realized this fitting analogy of the past year:<br />
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When we lost the dream and child of Addison, we experienced a trauma. In a physical trauma, you treat it immediately with triage or surgery or whatever is required. In this case, our triage treatment was a trip to Myrtle Beach where we licked our wounds, fittingly enough, during an actual hurricane (read about that <a href="http://www.myhopefulfilled.com/2015/10/it-is-well.html">here</a>). God blessed me with the song "It Is Well," and I got a tattoo to commemorate the loss and the hope.<br />
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After you suffer a physical trauma and it is treated, you must follow up with doctors appointments and physical therapy. For me, this was following the advice of Melody and Sarah and admitting that I was not "okay," and seeing a grief counselor. This therapy was life giving. It was sad and there were moments I didn't want to be real with the loss - shaming it away. After all, Addison wasn't even "real," right? But I had to grieve, and I had to grieve hard. Of course, this helped the healing process (thoughts on grief <a href="http://www.myhopefulfilled.com/2016/04/let-your-gentleness-be-evident-to-all.html">here</a>).<br />
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Then, as sometimes happens after a little bit of healing, my wound got infected. This was the spot in the story where the baby who would have been Micah almost entered our lives. His mama chose to parent him (as is completely her right to do). This time, though painful and a road block in recovery, the wound was not as harsh, quickly treated, and therapy continued.<br />
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In the last months there has been evidence of actual healing, though I take things slow, as you would with a physical ailment.<br />
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My cruise marked the end of the year of grief, and represented what a one year check up would be. Walking along the harbor in Saint John, it hit me -<b> I have a scar, but it's not going to cause me any more pain.</b><br />
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Ironically, in contradiction to the hurricane we experienced in Myrtle Beach last year, this year when I cruised, the weather was completely perfect. The temps were 65-75 degrees, and the sky was clear. We drove <b>south</b> to go to Myrtle Beach during "triage," I drove <b>north</b> to cruise.<br />
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Jess reminded me of the story of the Israelites who wandered in the wilderness after their delivery from slavery. Deuteronomy 2 says, <b>"You have been wandering around this hill country long enough; turn to the north."</b> <br />
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Oh, you can bet I identified with that! <br />
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And then a few verses later, it continues, "...the Lord has blessed you in everything you have done. He has watched your every step through this wilderness...the Lord your God has been with you."<br />
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In the last year, there were lots of moments where I felt like I was barely holding on, where I was walking in the wilderness, where the emotional pain was so strong it felt like a physical ailment. Yet, laced in to the gut wrenching, heart breaking pain, there has been so much self reflection, so much growth, so much change in me. <br />
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But only by the grace of and to the glory of God - soli deo gloria.<br />
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My faith has been through the fire, and it has been refined. In the face of deep pain, clinging to the Lord was my only consolation. <br />
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For now, I end with some verses from Psalm 16 - I feel like I could have penned this myself.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Preserve me, oh God, for in You I take refuge. You are my Lord; I have no good apart from You. The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; You hold my lot. I have set the Lord always before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken. <span style="color: red;">Therefore, my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure. </span>You make known to me the path of life, in Your presence there is fullness of joy; at your righthand are pleasures forevermore. </span></b><br />
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<i><b>Psalm 16: 1, 2, 5, 8, 9, 11</b></i><br />
<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-84901563837126194072016-07-28T11:19:00.003-04:002016-07-28T11:19:43.111-04:00In TransitionFriends...If you have never spoke with a professional counselor, please make it a priority. I can't speak highly enough of the solace and peace of mind and healing it has brought forth in the last six months. Maybe you don't struggle with grief or anxiety or depression, but if you do...finding a good therapist is so unbelievably helpful.<br />
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My counselor has been challenging me with practicing intentionality and mindfulness. What does this look like? It means instead of thinking about the "next thing" I need to do, I appreciate the scene I am playing out at the time. Here are some specific examples...<br />
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<ol>
<li><i><b> In the morning before jumping out of bed, I start the day with a great present moment awareness, setting the stage for calmness. I soak in the sun shining through the windows, the warm body beside me, the gracious God who has allowed me to wake one more day.</b></i></li>
<li><i><b>In the shower, rather than planning and rehearsing through my morning or my day, I take time to feel the water, smell the soap. Treating myself to some great smelling lathery goodness is helpful. </b></i></li>
<li><i><b>In driving - from walking to the car to driving between work/appointments/etc, I find opportunities to walk slower, drive more cautiously, use red lights as a moment to breathe deeply, listen to music or podcasts, have deep conversations with the five year old in the back seat who is wise beyond his years.</b></i></li>
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There are several other times through the day to practice this mindset - I remember my friend Melody purposefully trying to enjoy dinner preparation with an adult beverage and good music, instead of looking at it as a chore.<br />
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At counseling as we went over these mindfulness practices, I said, "It's hard for me to believe I should be enjoying each of those times in my day because I see them all as purely transitional."<br />
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I paused as I physically felt a light bulb go on so bright in my head that it almost exploded.<br />
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"Holy cow," I exclaimed, <b>"that's how I've been viewing this whole waiting-for-baby season of life."</b><br />
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A huge grin spread across the counselor's face. "Exactly," she confirmed.<br />
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What have I been missing in the last two years of this adoption journey? CONTENTMENT. INTENTIONALITY. <br />
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There have been so many precious gems of joy as a family of three. Yes, we want so badly to grow our family. "I just feel like I'm never going to be a big brother," Levi says with exacerbation. And yet...these are days, weeks, months, years, we will never get back. I don't want to miss the time that Levi was four, five, and six because I was so tangled up in my own bereavement.<br />
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Last summer I did really good at making it the "Summer of Levi," trying to appreciate all the things we could do because we only had one kid who was now far past the toddler years. Grief and depression and longing for the "next thing," has robbed me of that joy for the past few months.<br />
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Not anymore.<br />
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Yes, our family is in transition, and it may be for a long time yet. But from this moment on, I refuse to let that define my contentment.<br />
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-26759751210455016882016-06-24T08:55:00.000-04:002016-06-24T08:55:42.715-04:00Genie JesusA few weeks ago, I had the most amazing realization. This came a year after meeting a woman who deceived us about her pregnancy for five months, a month after the baby we referred to as "Micah" entered the world as his mother decided to forego her adoption plan, and just a few days after learning that baby "Micah" has now been placed in foster care. My heart has shattered in a million pieces in the last year - over "Addison," over "Micah," over Levi's heart break, and over the loss of control.<br />
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But then I remembered something pivitol - as fresh as if it was yesterday, even though it happened five years ago. Too ashamed to speak the words out loud, after Levi was born, I questioned my faith. <br />
My favorite thing to do back in late 2010 was to talk about God's faithfulness. God had been so faithful to Herb and I by granting our desire to become parents in a whirlwind of spontaneous parenthood that ended with a Levi. In fact, the moment of becoming a mom and having that hope fulfilled was so powerful in my life, I got a tattoo to remind myself daily of God's kindness to me.<br />
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Then when Levi was about six months old, I started to wonder... If our adoption story had not ended with us bringing home Levi, would I still be on my soap box yelling, "GOD IS SO FAITHFUL!!!!!! YOU CAN TRUST HIM!!"<br />
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For months, this thought tormented me. I was paralyzed in fear of what my answer to that question may have been.<br />
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And yet...God. <br />
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Here we are today. Weary and beaten from the journey, yet still standing because of His ability to carry my when I couldn't journey on myself. <br />
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The last year has been arguably one of the most faith challenging, tear stained years of my life, and yet, I still believe "if not, He is still good." The hows and whys of the details of the suffering of His children still float around unanswered. I will probably never know those answers, but for now, I am okay with that. <b>I have realized that God's faithfulness does not hinge on His ability to grant my wishes</b>. He is not a blue genie. Praise Jesus.<br />
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This, my friends, is the peace that passes understanding that guards your heart and mind in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7)<br /><br />
Soli Deo Gloria.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://year27.com/philippians-47/">via</a></td></tr>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-87254738656153631732016-06-18T21:42:00.002-04:002016-06-18T21:42:58.780-04:00Welcome Back, Hope.<i>...the picture frames are facing down and the ringing from this empty sound is deafening and keeping you from sleep. Breathing is a foreign task and thinkings just too much to ask. You're measure your minutes by a clock that's blinking eights. - Dashboard Confessional</i><br />
I am ready.<br />
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Ready to talk. Ready to come out from hiding. Ready to address the silence.<br />
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The last month and a half has had some of my darkest moments. Scratch that, it's been a dreadfully heart breaking year. There have been wonderful moments and snapshots in time where joy fills my heart and laughter fills my lungs, but there were weeks when silence and depression won.<br />
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There was a lifetime movie moment that involved me crying the hard floor of my cement basement. There was a week where I went to the gym every single day because I literally couldn't think of anything that sounded enjoyable, so I might as well do that. There was a solid two months where my every waking thought was consumed with the idea of going back to bed. Consumed, I exaggerate not.<br />
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And then, hope.<br />
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Out of nowhere she knocked on my door and let herself in. <br />
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"Remember me?" she asked, an old friend with whom I had parted ways months ago. I thought our differences were irreconcilable. But she persisted, she pursued me. She renewed my sense of wonder and reminded my of my desires - not by acts but just by being.<br />
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It happened at the weirdest of times. I was updating our homestudy paperwork. A tumultuous task the first time, and by this, the third time I have done it in as many years, it should have been depressing. But it was not, rather, it was hope filling. We are still in this. <br />
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I am not gonna waste my shot.<br />
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So, here I write, motivated again. The joys I had lost are beginning to return. My finger tips tap on the keyboard the hope is flamed. She is rooting for me, for us, for our family.<br />
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If the adoption disruption in the fall made me realize how muchI really do want another baby, the disruption this spring made me realized that someone is really missing from our family. He or She or They are out there, somewhere, and we will get to them somehow. I'm trusting God and I'm on my knees.<br />
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<b>I am filled with hope while I am waiting for my hopes to again be fulfilled. </b><br />
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It feels good to be back. <br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>Back to the start, it's a new inning</i></b><br />
<b><i>It feels like the end, but it's the beginning</i></b><br />
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<b><i>So I'll rejoice in the peace and suffering that put me at Your feet</i></b><br />
<b><i>You can have my doubts and fears, I know You've bottled every tear</i></b><br />
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-25848816769512922142016-04-22T10:10:00.002-04:002016-04-22T10:16:39.112-04:00Let Your Gentleness Be Evident To AllGrief is a strange strange thing.<br />
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I can sit at a soccer game cheering for Levi, travel to Disney World and enjoy it all has to offer, make exciting plans to "move on" (whatever that looks like), deal with big grown-up things that are hard and have nothing to do with my grief. I can function as normal, but the grief is always there, just below the surface.</div>
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I really hoped it would have fled by now. Some days it's the loss of a baby and the loss of a dream of what could have been. Some days it's the burn of betrayal mixed with the dream of justice, or even revenge. Some days it's the sting of infertility that hurts as freshly as the first time I read a "not pregnant" on a stick.</div>
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And for all the pain, there is just as much hope. </div>
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But I'm so weary of waiting and hoping and pressing forward. Some days I want to scream - "GUYS I CAN'T DO THIS. DID YOU FORGET WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?"</div>
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And then I remember that something happened to all of us. Not with Addison - but life in general. We all have those circumstances where we think, "Holy crap, I can't believe what I have endured, I can't believe this is my reality," and we want to wear the badge of grief like a sandwich board sign reading, "Be gentle with me. I can't handle this today." Maybe that would actually be helpful.</div>
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If nothing else, I hope this stage of sadness gives me empathy. Teaches me to be more gentle with the unknown battles that others are fighting.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: <a href="http://iheartinspiration.com/quotes/be-king-everyone-fighting-hard-battle/">Via</a></td></tr>
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There have been many times in the past year where I find myself reciting this (it's probably the only significant passage of scripture I can actually say without looking):</div>
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<b>Rejoice in the Lord always, I will say it again, REJOICE.</b></div>
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<b>Let your gentleness be evident to all - the Lord is near.</b></div>
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<b>Do not be anxions about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition,</b></div>
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<b>with thanksgiving, present your requests to God</b></div>
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<b>And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding</b></div>
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<b>will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus</b></div>
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<b>Philippians 4:4-7</b></div>
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I know how much tenderness I need; I bet others need it too.</div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-80817331900076608272016-02-18T09:25:00.001-05:002016-02-18T09:25:36.059-05:00Around the CornerI've learned a lot about grief in the last 6 months. It comes in cycles, and once you are past one stage, you are not free from ever revisiting that stage. The stages aren't evenly timed, and can be triggered at unexpected intervals. It's been painful, and yet, weirdly fascinating (maybe I should have pursued that psychology minor I toyed around with).<br />
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I have emerged confident, yet cautious; strong, yet vulnerable. I like the person I have become, and though I grieve the life that would have been with Addison, am grateful for the refining her loss has brought in my life.<br />
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The best advice someone gave me, a month after the other shoe dropped, was to see a counselor. I was strangely fixated on what bad thing God might ask me to endure next, and my sister in law said, "Do you think maybe you should talk to someone about that?" It was such a simple question, but gave me pause to think, "Huh, maybe."<br />
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And then it was the friend who said, "I hear you keep saying things like, 'I thought I was okay, but then...' Have you considered that you might not be okay, and that's okay?"<br />
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I had to embrace the loss. I had to speak her name. I had to cry in front of people. <br />
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And then I had to share my story.<br />
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Looking back on the last month, I cannot even comprehend all the opportunities God has given me to speak boldly about grief, loss, suffering, and, of course, where God fits in to it all. I have learned that JOY and GRATEFULNESS can co-exist with GRIEF and PAIN... and that beautiful tension keeps me pressing into my savior for comfort and hope and thanksgiving.<br />
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I find myself grappling with big philosophical things like TRUTH. I have no time for niceties that come from well meaning people in The Church - in fact I think there's a lot of junk we've been accepting as Truth, and then when our hearts are broken, we are wrecked emotionally and spiritually because what was thought was God maybe actually wasn't, and our focus was on the wrong or misinterpreted promises.<br />
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The is only the beginning of a new chapter. But I like how it's starting. I trust Him more, and yet have a healthy amount of questioning for Him, and lots of room to be taught and to gain understanding. I am not going anywhere, and neither is He.<br />
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And, as a point of healing, yesterday I held a brand new baby and ENJOYED it. I snuggled her and smelled her head and changed her diaper and gave her a bunch of Addison's headbands, and didn't feel even a pang of grief or sadness. <br />
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Thank you for supporting me, friends. This has been a year I will never forget, and I know you have held us up in prayer and love when we were at our weakest. I love you for that.<br />
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-61084327588159072752015-12-23T09:03:00.000-05:002015-12-23T11:41:47.084-05:00The Christmas CardI embraced the coming holidays with open arms - my tree was up before Thanksgiving, Advent activities were printed and even laminated, and I was at Target on Black Friday in the middle of the night. I was Christmas ready.<br>
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But the thought of sending out Christmas cards overwhelmed me. Too much money. Who's on the list? Takes time to actually write a little note on each card (which I actually like doing). And then there's the issue of the family picture.<br>
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I hemmed and hawed about Christmas cards for a week or two, and finally realized the hesitation. The giant elephant in the room. This year, our Christmas card was supposed to look different. This year our Christmas card would have featured big brother holding baby sister under the tree, introducing the world to sweet Addison Renee.<br>
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And now, it's not. Because, she's not.<br>
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Soon after this revelation of hesitation, I met with my new counselor for the first time. "If you are not treated the loss of Addison like an actual death, you are doing yourself a disservice."<br>
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For months, I have been shaming myself out of grief. "How can I grieve a baby who wasn't even REAL?!" I thought. "She was real to you and to all of us, " several of my friends reassured me.<br>
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And so, as another season of the year began, filled with joyous songs and twinkling lights, another stage of grief began. Instead of denial, I felt sadness. I cried more in the first weeks of December than I did in October and November combined. I forced myself to actually speak her name, and refer to the "loss of Addison." She may not have been flesh and blood, just a lie conjured by a hurting and sick woman, but she was also a dream and a fulfillment of hope, and the missing part of our family. And she deserves to be grieved.<br>
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I've questioned God - not his existence, but rather his intention. By his grace, I've landed back where I started - grateful for his comfort, trusting in his presence, seeking him for the future. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-h7PLzPiUWhc/VnrOybogYyI/AAAAAAAAMKs/0h8etb_b2RA/s640/blogger-image--796427406.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-h7PLzPiUWhc/VnrOybogYyI/AAAAAAAAMKs/0h8etb_b2RA/s640/blogger-image--796427406.jpg"></a></div><br>
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I've found sweet solace in the music of King's Kaleidoscope. Seriously good - grief mixed with hope mixed with solid theology mixed with a 10 piece band mixed with Seattle musicianship. <br>
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And I've given myself permission to skip the Christmas card this year. Praying that the new year is filled with hope, trust, faith, love...and a baby.<br>
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<div style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: futura-pt; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;">
<b><a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=4&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjqyqCvkvLJAhUIbiYKHUxdDPEQtwIILzAD&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D-aKtqkf_CtM&usg=AFQjCNFhz6Tbv0I4ZVFZvFX3vDB7VBEh3Q&sig2=X_YvoxG167bmIvwmimYjXQ">Zion by Kings Kalaeidscope</a></b></div>
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<b>Maybe someday we’ll meet under the stars</b></div>
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<b>Healed and home free, complete, that’s where we’ll start</b></div>
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<b>Zion, I’m coming soon to where you are</b></div>
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<b>‘Till then my love’s with you, though world’s apart</b></div>
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<b>This will take much longer than I’ve planned</b></div>
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<b>But I will wait to see you, and hold your hands</b></div>
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<b>Waiting each day, God will comfort my soul</b></div>
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<b>You are home now, healthy, safe in His fold</b></div>
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<b>Beyond this storm’s a brilliant sky of stars</b></div>
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<b>I’ll follow you</b></div>
</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-89529716330495404842015-11-12T06:40:00.001-05:002015-11-12T06:46:09.660-05:00Have You Considered..."How are you really doing? How has this whole baby ordeal affected your walk with God?" she asked without hesitation. I knew the question was coming, and I knew because of our long history of friendship, support, accountability, and you-know-my-crap-and-love-me-anyway-ness, I had to actually answer. Not with Christianese, not with pleasant "doing ok," platitudes, but nitty gritty get to the heart of the issue thoughts.<br />
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I side stepped a little, and then the real truth leaked out. I took a deep breath and spilled.</div>
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A few weeks ago, I realized that in every trial I face, walking away from faith doesn't cross my mind. Each struggle, each heartbreak presses me to the feet of God. "Help me understand," "Teach me to love like you do," "Give me peace." There is beauty in that blessed assurance...I'm not going anywhere, and, <b>more importantly, neither is God.</b></div>
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But I've found myself sincerely struggling with the idea of what else might God allow to happen to me in order to "test" my commitment. For example, I'm "okay," with what we've endured (although I wouldn't want to live it again), but find myself getting super anxious about what else might happen. What's scarier, is I know there is pride and distrust at the root of this issue. Distrust is a form of disobedience, and I'm grateful that all of this craziness is coming to the surface so it can be dealt with.</div>
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In fact, yesterday, I came to the conclusion that the six scariest words in the Bible "Have you considered my servant, Job." This feeling of God somehow choosing Job's suffering. God knew that Job would persevere and still choose faith in the end, and the most horrendous things to happened to Job.</div>
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And so, there on the phone through my tears, I started listing some terrible things that could happen to me. I ended with "Why would God NOT do that stuff to me?"</div>
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Then, as one does when faced with a conversation that's just a little too real, I quickly changed the subject to my new babysitting job, and how perfect it is for Levi and I, and how I kind of prayed for this exact scenario, but didn't really think much about it, and then it literally fell in to my lap.</div>
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"Michelle, I am going to tell you some things you already know," she inserted into the conversation when I stopped to breathe. "<b>God is a good father. </b> He loves you, and He does not delight in your pain." She was right. Even in the juxtaposition of presenting the facts of feeling like a spider in God's fingers just dangling over the fire next to the answer to a prayer I barely breathed out, there was evidence of God's goodness, His faithfulness, His love for me.</div>
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Of course I chewed on this all day. I texted Herb about my cry fest, and felt at peace. But later was feeling down again, and couldn't shake my "Job Complex." I'm so freaking dramatic. </div>
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"No more Adele on Pandora," I texted my brother. "Every song is making me cry today," I wrote, thinking about all the crappy things that have happened in the last few years. The lowlight real was playing strong in my mind and like a broken record was stuck on some continuous loops. When he pressed me a little bit about my sadness, I tried to explain the "Job Complex."</div>
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Almost instantly, he wrote back, "I'm not convinced that we are all Job. Does God let us suffer, or is that just life?" </div>
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With one text, he diffused the bomb I had been wiring all afternoon. Suddenly head knowledge started flowing in, replacing irrational emotions, reminding me in the dark what God had previously taught me in the light.</div>
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I heard a pastor say recently, <b>"God is such a genius at taking evil and turning it into good that will be tempted to look at the good that comes from evil and think that He willed the evil to get the good."</b></div>
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But He didn't. He can't. There is no evil in Him. Life is hard and suffering is real, and it sucks and we want to avoid it. And we don't know why God intervenes sometimes, and not other times, and that's ok to not know the answer to that. The struggle is real, and it's going to happen whether I am a Christ follower or not. In that same sermon (seriously, check out Mike Erre preaching about <a href="http://www.evfreefullerton.com/blog/sermons/when-god-doesnt-answer/">"When God Doesn't Answer"</a> if you have time), he read Romans 8:28 and surmised these three things:</div>
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1. God is always good</div>
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2. Evil is evil (not pretend good)</div>
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3. God's relentless commitment to bringing good from evil</div>
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I love this verse in Romans, where Paul writes about the faith of Abraham, "Against all hope, in hope Abraham believed." (Romans 4:18)</div>
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This morning, that brings so much peace to my heart. <b>Trusting God to do and be what He promised, </b>even in the face of a broken heart and a weary soul. Sometime in the last month, I kind of forgot that. He has allowed free will, which has made way for sin, and, as a result, pain in this life will happen. But HE is incapable of evil. He is a GOOD father.<br />
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Against all hope, in Hope I will believe. I will rest my burden on Hope. Hope looks a lot like Jesus. </div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-69898770315274000102015-11-05T10:36:00.000-05:002015-11-05T10:39:04.531-05:00Looking Through the Macro LensSometimes we need reminded to look big picture. You know, "In the Grand Scheme Of Things, this is not that big of a deal."<br />
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And sometimes even the Big Picture isn't reassuring.<br />
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It is in those times, that we have to look through the macro lens. In macro photography, small things are enlarged to show beautiful, colorful detail that might otherwise be missed.<br />
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For example, these red mums. The contrast of their scarlet color against the concrete with a little bit of moss patina. The curve of the stem with the budding dark green leaves. The delicacy of of the remains of a thin white spider web, trailing off the pedals, flowing in the wind.<br />
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But if you were here at my house, walking up to my front door, you would probably miss this beauty. You see, these mums are the remains of something I planted last year that failed to thrive in my flower bed this year.<br />
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You would notice the yellowed hosta, the pathetic lone daisy, the cracked concrete porch, and maybe your eye would catch the dying mum. <br />
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As my husband says, sometimes a close up looks better than real life.<br />
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Isn't that like life sometimes? We look around and notice all the things that are not going the way they should be going. All the angst that weighs us down. All the hard work and toiling that seemingly never ends. All the hopes that remain unfilled.<br />
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But if we stop and really look through the macro lens, what might we notice?<br />
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The smoothness of Levi's cheeks when he nuzzles my face.<br />
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The strength in the squeeze of Herb's arm around my waist.<br />
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The gratefulness I feel when I consider the faith my parents instilled in me at a young age that carries me through difficult times.<br />
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Beautiful colorful details are all around us. Oh, that I may stoop down and look a little closer.<br />
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-56937399449637496252015-10-12T15:59:00.000-04:002015-10-12T15:59:10.161-04:00Likes Comments and SharesI know you're not supposed to measure your self worth and popularity using the yard stick of social media, but on this special day, I can't help it.<br />
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Five years ago today, I wrote about the homecoming of our "tree of life," the day Levi came in to our lives. It was after weeks of sorrow, somewhat similar to what I'm feeling now, although the situation was completely different. It was a total surprise, and honestly felt as close to a "stork drop" as realistically possible.<br />
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Facebook reminded me, that on this day, five years ago 120 people wished us congratulations. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY. Those same people were praying for and wishing for a baby for us, joining in our sorrows and our joys.<br />
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And those same people, plus about <b>fifty</b> more, have sent condolences, wished us well, and have surrounded us in prayer following the heart break of not bringing home a baby girl last week.<br />
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The numbers astound me. I'm just an ordinary person, how am I so blessed to have so many people who care?<br />
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What's the point? Who cares about social media? I do. I have felt so loved, so supported, so prayed for in the last five years on our journey to parenthood, and now on the continuation of the family building journey. Maybe you don't always understand how adoption works or why it works, but you care, love, and mean well, and hope for the best.<br />
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Thank you, you guys. Whether you are in our close proximity of people we see on a regular basis or part of the crew who's path crossed ours for only a season of life - thank you. You are our village and I can't wait to show all these comments and well wishes and joy filled messages to Levi when he's older...and hopefully his younger sibling too.<br />
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-35719969433565559242015-10-07T23:05:00.001-04:002015-10-07T23:09:26.410-04:00It Is Well<div>
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<b><i>Grander earth has quaked before</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Moved by the sound of His voice</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Seas that are shaken and stirred</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Can be calmed and broken for my regard</i></b></div>
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Two and a half weeks ago, I found myself on the top of a mountain. Unprepared for the journey, over dressed and unprepared, we journeyed uphill for a breathtaking and surprisingly beautiful view. Ten days later, I witnessed dark billowy clouds rolling over the ocean, so dense that they could be sliced. The sky met the sea, impossible to see where one ended and the other began. The winds were debilitating, it was, after all, a hurricane, and waves pounded the shore, loud and angry. <div>
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I am speaking both quite literally and figuratively. <div>
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<i><b>Through it all, through it all</b></i></div>
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<i><b>My eyes are on You</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Through it all, through it all</b></i></div>
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<i><b>It is well</b></i></div>
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Every time I have stopped to write, my fingers pause. Our hopeful adoption situation is now tinged with deceit, lies, broken heartedness, anger, and a whole lot of hope deferred. I want to tell you every juicy detail. I want you to come over for coffee and gasp in horror when I tell you the story. I want to hug it out and share a tear. But I feel like spending time explaining is a waste. This part of our story doesn't deserve the tears and anger that have already been shed. I just can't inscribe words that will live for eternity on this place of hope fulfilled.</div>
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Because, at this point, it is well with me.</div>
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<b><i>Far be it from me to not believe</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Even when my eyes can't see</i></b></div>
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<b><i>This mountain that's in front of me</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Will be thrown into the midst of the sea</i></b></div>
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After the house of cards began to crumble, Herb whisked me away to the beach. It was the most healing and therapeutic time for our family of three. God met us at the ocean, wrapped us in His arms, dried our tears, and settled my heart. Just like in Job 38:1, in the midst of the storm, the Lord spoke. </div>
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<i><b>So let go my soul and trust in Him</b></i></div>
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<i><b>The waves and wind still know his name</b></i></div>
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<i><b>It is well with my soul</b></i></div>
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And I reminded myself in a permanent way about how God is in the business of hope fulfilled. He has given me Jesus. That would be enough. But then he gave me Herb. And then He gave me Levi. I am so beyond grateful for His faithfulness, and I can do nothing except just trust Him.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zChiC-Y46xs/VhXeUvfOC_I/AAAAAAAAMHs/s8TuRGHYESE/s640/blogger-image--200059230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zChiC-Y46xs/VhXeUvfOC_I/AAAAAAAAMHs/s8TuRGHYESE/s640/blogger-image--200059230.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Hope deferred makes the heart sick,</div><div>But a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.</div><div>Proverbs 13:12</div><div><br></div>
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<b>It is well with my soul.</b></div>
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<b>**</b><i>lyrics from <a href="https://youtu.be/T0dIWJ4t4Jg">"It Is Well" (Bethel).</a> I can't believe how fitting they are for this season of life, but really, why am I surprised? God is good. </i></div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-12421060727864376742015-09-18T08:41:00.000-04:002015-09-18T08:41:15.865-04:00Hope of HopeThe air is crisp, the kitchen is clean, the house is quiet, the coffee is brewing. These are the inspired moments. The moment preschool drop off is over, and the reality of chores hasn't sunk in. These are the times when I think - who's life is this? I get to be me?<br />
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I was going to title this blog post "The Joy of Anticipation," until I logged on and realized that I actually DID blog about that already, it's just been that long. I wanted to document this anticipatory time as much as I did with Levi, because it's just been so different. So hopeful, so happy. Five years ago I was just bitter and sad most of the time and couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. And now, I have contentment, peace. Looking down a long tunnel, I saw a light, and now we are almost there. It is surreal. <br />
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Quite honestly, at this point, 38 weeks and quickly progressing, the anticipation doesn't feel only joyful right now. The joy and excitement is there, but it's also surrounded with anxiety, oil changes, lists, and is glued to a phone, just waiting for the message, "It's go time." I am surprised by how stressed I feel, given that I have felt so relaxed for the last four months.<br />
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And of course there are the normal second time mom feelings - did I spend enough time with Levi recently? Have I been too distracted? Did we go to the park enough? In fact, last night I was getting all weepy thinking that I didn't read to him enough in the last five years. Adoptive parents apparently have raging anticipatory hormones, too.<br />
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This morning was good, though. It was what led me to my inspired moment of writing. We had to take my car for an oil change before school, so Levi and I packed up our bikes and rode from the garage to school (yeah, little town). The wind blowing in my face reminded me of all the hours of bike rides that we have enjoyed. The fifteen (no lie) times Levi yelled "I love you mom!" when he was getting in line for school affirmed me and calmed my anxiety. <br />
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Recently I heard <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWbQ8PAXsxg">a song </a>whose chorus plays in repeat in my head...<br />
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"Where there is no way you make a way, when no one else could reach us, you find us." <br />
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I keep reminding myself of God's faithfulness. He has so clearly guided us thus far, I must continue to trust the next steps to Him, as well.<br />
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-24708349138210816152015-07-15T08:59:00.002-04:002015-07-15T08:59:44.324-04:00The Joy of AnticipationWeeks ago, when we began to slowly and cautiously share our baby news, one of my often quoted friends Lauren said, "Oh Michelle. <b>I am so excited that you get to experience anticipating this baby</b>."<div>
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"Stop. What? All I want is for the next five months to be over and have that little squish in my arms!" is what I thought. But instead replied, "Yeah, I guess me too."</div>
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As she often is - she was right. "Walking through" this pregnancy with the E-mom (E) has been redeeming for me in so many ways. We each signed up for The Bump and have enjoyed texting each other every week, commenting on the baby's eggplant size or developing ear lobes. E has been so faithful to text me every day - "So many kicks today," "Heartburn sucks," or "Do you want to talk about my hospital plan?" In every choice she makes, she considers me, more than she would have to. I can't speak highly enough of her integrity in this journey.</div>
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There are ultrasound pictures. I have three that E has so thoughtfully texted to me. It amazes me to see the growth and the development of facial features.</div>
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When I look back on our waiting time for Levi, I remember the angst. I was NOT a joyful waiter. I was not content. I was heartbroken and desperate and miserable. And then when he was in my arms it all changed. To quote Mater's Tall Tails, "You remember, you was there."</div>
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At the beginning of our second adoption, I was so nervous about whether or not the feelings of anxiety and baby-desperation would return. God is so GOOD - they did not. Even now, in a 5 month match process (that's what the time is called between when you are picked by an expectant mom and the baby is actually born) my heart is content. <b>This is the kind of peace that passes understanding.</b> I get that verse now.</div>
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I'm so excited for the calendar to turn to September and know the baby could come any day, but I'm genuinely enjoying getting ready for her. If I feel like working on the nursery, I do. If I feel like dropping $25 at Target on baby gear, I do. I have enough time to spread out purchases so nothing feels like a huge hit. And yet, we still have 2 1/2 months to go, so there are not any rushed feelings (yet). </div>
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We were walking out to the car and Levi said with a sigh, <b>"Oh mom.... I just can't stop thinking about that baby."</b></div>
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Me neither, buddy. </div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-22666237661343514222015-06-24T08:50:00.000-04:002015-06-24T08:50:13.201-04:00NineOn my favorite episode of my favorite show, there is a wedding. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-MfVmfm9V8">Pam tells Jim</a> that because wedding days fly by, they should take mental snapshots of moments throughout the day. This morning I woke up thinking about some very specific moments of our own wedding day, which was nine years ago today. You know - the moments that weren't captured by the photographer, and not captured by a smartphone (it was nine years ago), and are burned in my memory simply because of their significance - or significant insignificance?<br />
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Waking up at 4 am and spent the next two hours journaling, shaving my legs really well, just bidding my time till the bridesmaids woke up, too.<br />
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The moment my sister noticed I was awake way too early and got up to hang out with me. We talked and walked laps around the hotel parking lot. That just might be my very favorite sister moment.<br />
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Standing in the church bathroom with my mom, both of us dolled up, feeling the most beautiful I have ever felt, and hearing my mom affirm those feelings.<br />
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Waiting, nervously, in the hallway as the clarinet choir played. Jocelyn came to fix my veil and when our eyes met, we both crumbled into a ball of tearful emotion. <br />
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Walking, arm and arm, with my dad, feeling all eyes on me. Walking past all the friends and family who came to support us seemed so fitting - like every person had helped me along the journey which ended at the alter meeting Herb. I wanted to hug everyone I passed and shout, "Thank you!"</div>
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Herb gently holding my hand at the alter and turning it over to see the terrible result of a spray tan on the palm of my hands.<br />
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Exchanging vows and choking out the words "in sickness." How far we had already come at that point, and how much more we've endured since then.<br />
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Sitting in the chairs after the ceremony, waiting for pictures, my brother came over to admire my rings. It was the first time I looked at them together. We marveled at their beauty and had a tender moment of congratulations.<br />
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Posing for pictures and feeling awkward. I just knew these posed pictures could not be looking good - I was right. Our posed couple pictures are super awkward. (Don't make big chested girls in strapless dresses try to sit on the lap of their equally sized husbands. It's just weird.)<br />
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Hearing the jazz band at our reception and wishing I had offered to pay my friend and have them play for more than three songs. In all fairness, I hadn't really been to any weddings that had dancing/music and wasn't sure how to structure the event.<br />
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Dancing with my dad and him remarking, "I had no idea this day would be like this. This is so wonderful. You did such a good job."<br />
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Trying to direct everyone who was helping clean up and my mother and sister-in-law telling me to just leave already - they had it handled. <br />
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Flopping face down on the bed at the hotel room while Herb carried in our luggage. Tears of nervousness and excitement stung my eyes.<br />
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Sitting in Red Lobster later that night because of course we didn't eat anything at the most expensive meal my parents had ever purchased. It was almost closing time and it was freezing. But we were starving and it was the most delicious meal ever.</div>
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Feeling incredibly awkward the next morning when my in-laws drove us to the airport. They knew what we DID the night before. Haha.<br />
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Today I am going to hook up the VCR and show Levi our wedding video. I wonder what moments I have forgotten?<br />
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Just last week, Lauren asked me how I felt about where God was leading our family. Tears sprang to my eyes. Remembering the fear of loneliness and the relief of finding the love of my life I replied, "I never thought I would be here and look what God has done. I am happy to follow Him in whatever comes next."<br />
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161710422787797359.post-87312492157764634782015-06-21T18:10:00.000-04:002015-06-21T18:10:02.257-04:00Oh boy. I mean girl?<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">There have been so many easter eggs, dropped clues, vague-gramming/blogging/booking, and secrets I've wanted to spill on social media. How do I recover? Where do I even begin? How do I spill the beans that there's going to be a little bean?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Oops, I just did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I remember when </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">we were matched with Jen, I didn't sleep for about a week out of sheer excitement. And at first, this match was exactly the same. But t</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">here is no earthly way I'm going to maintain that for months. Yes, I said MONTHS.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">In almost every way, this situation is different than Levi's adoption. Not better, not worse, just totally different. And isn't that just the plight of the second child?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The expectant mom (E-Mom) that has chosen us is a friend of a friend. So, we did a little something I've coined "BYOBM" - bring your own birth mom. She picked us to parent her unborn child, and <i>then</i> she met with a social worker from our agency. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">When we were chosen by Levi's birth family, we had only three weeks to prepare (and ultimately actually only a twelve hour notice). It was completely what I had been hoping for - spontaneous parenthood! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">This time - E-Mom made her adoption plan fairly early in her pregnancy, hooked up with us early in her second trimester, and seven weeks later, we met face to face. That was yesterday. If you're doing math - E-mom is currently 25 weeks pregnant and due October 2. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Levi was seven weeks old when we brought him home. He slept through the night and had a pretty wonderful schedule. He was a content and calm baby with whom I was very spoiled. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">This time, I have been invited in to the delivery room. Lord willing, I will be in her life from day one, minute one, second one, not to mention the joy of anticipation. E-mom shares a wonderful amount of information with me as she walks through this pregnancy. We have signed up for the bump weekly emails and we text each other, marveling at the new things the baby is developing. It's <i>almost</i> like experiencing pregnancy, just without all the painful side effects.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Oh, and did you catch the other big difference? Go back and read the last paragraph.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I said HER.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">This time, it's a girl. This time, it's pink and purple, fuzzy and princess-y. This time it's hair bows and braids, glitter and dresses.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Oh friends, I can't even touch the tip of the iceburg with what it means to be "expecting" a daughter. The work God has done in my heart and my life as a woman and the joy I feel knowing I can impart that on someone else. OH man, that's a whole other post for another day.</span><br />
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A few months ago, we found out our social worker was pregnant with triplets and due in May. I said, "I fully expect when she goes out on maternity leave and the office is busiest, we'll get the call. We'll get matched in May." The first day I talked to E-mom on the phone was May 1.</div>
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And yet, we want to be sensitive. I want to be guarded. I want to remember that she's still got 15 weeks to go. That's a long time in the adoption world. This is the kind of match I dreaded for fear of the obvious, and yet, I want to continue to be transparent. I want to look back on this time of waiting knowing I trusted God with my family's future. If this is to be, I want to be able to look back on this time of expectancy with joy, knowing I celebrated our daughter from the moment I knew of her existence. This is why I have not shared yet. But as another adoptive momma reminded me, there is no amount of guardedness that can prepare you for a disruption. If this falls through, it's going to hurt, whether I've been guarded or not. <br />
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So, instead of worrying or stressing, I'm thinking what an incredible opportunity it is to get to know E-mom and E-dad and their families. Because, if I have learned anything in the last five years, it's that adoption is so much more than gaining a child. It's a beautiful chance to gain a whole extra part of extended family. And it's freaking amazing.</div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18157478488602925064noreply@blogger.com3