Isaiah 43:1-7

Isaiah 43:1-4.
But now, this is what the Lord says-he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel.
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers; they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze...
Since you are precious and honored in my sight and because I love you."
Here is what I heard...
Anita, this is God, your loving father. I created you to do this. When you are on the plane, and the anxiety hits, I will be with you. When you are overwhelmed in the airport, I will be there. When you have to leave your children, and grief overwhelms you - you will not be swept away. When the pain of saying good-bye burns deeply- you and your children's hearts will be protected from damage. Your children and you, are precious to me, honored by me, and I love you. I will be there, every step, every deep breath, every moment of joy, and tear of sorrow. You can do this, and I'm not asking more of you than I know you are capable of.

I posted back on June 1st about this passage, and how God used it to comfort me before we left. I haven't followed up with the rest of story. You see, God knows we forget. He knows we get overwhelmed and lose the feelings of promise. And he knows when we need comfort.

On our last day in Haiti, I woke up and could feel the grief trying to crowd it's way into my day. I felt it trying to suck me in. Trying to steal the joy of being with my kids. Trying to hold me back from falling even deeper in love with them. I could hear the words of deceit, "Don't get anymore attached. It's going to be so hard to leave, don't make it worse. You aren't strong enough. You can't endure this. This is just a mean, crappy process, and really unfair. You didn't sigh up for this." I could keep going on - but I think you got the idea. It was turning into a full fledged pity party, and I was the special guest.

And I went downstairs to get breakfast. I was a few minutes earlier than everyone and was wondering aimlessly around the kitchen. Trying to get a bearing on my day. Trying to find the strength to eat breakfast, go hold my kids, and then fly away from them. And I stood in front of the fridge, and there was a magnet. For a missionary family - with Isaiah 43:1-4 on it. I about fell over. This isn't the kind of verse you'd think to send out to all your family and friends asking for support. It isn't the verse that people readily quote when your in a rough spot. But there it was. "When you pass through the waters, I WILL BE WITH YOU. When you walk through the fire, YOU WILL NOT BE BURNED." In that moment, God wrapped his arms around me, held me up, gave me hope and reassurance. It was almost a physical sensation. I squared my shoulders, a smile flooded my face, and I exited the pity party.

And as I sit here, writing this the tears are flowing. It was such a powerful moment, to know that this process will not scar us. Not me, and not my children.

As I write this, 'While I'm waiting' is playing. This is my anthem for this long process.
'While I'm waiting - I'll serve you, While I'm waiting,-I'll worship, While I'm waiting- I'll will love.' And I will trust that God is present in all of it. In the moments of pain, of joy, of hopelessness, of happiness, of separation, of reunion. He has promised it. When you pass through the waters - I WILL BE WITH YOU. And I pray that somehow - our growth, our witness of God's faithfulness shows the world he is truly trustworthy.

Updates...

Good News!!! We have a new computer!! Here are the August pictures. Re and Er are doing well. Growing, Healthy and Happy. The bump on Er's head is a from a small wart that grew inward and caused an infection. But all is well again. I'm so thankful they are getting such good care at the orphanage.

We are currently in Parquet. It is the District Attorney's office, and part of what they do is interview the birth parent. However, the birth father hasn't been located. While this is a little frustrating, there is really nothing we can do. After even a short time in Haiti, we can understand how it's hard to find someone. We are praying for the birth father, that he is able to find work, provide for his other children, and is comforted in his grief.

The last few couple months have been rough. They say that adoption is a roller coaster, and sometimes I think that is a fair description. However, lately it feels like a bad roller coaster, that only goes down and stays down. I know it's not true, but the feelings are still present. The high of meeting them, led to a long downward part. And it just seems like a really long way to the going up part.

I'm starting to see it level out in the last couple weeks. I think I've come to terms with the idea that it might just be another year till they come home. Our process might take two years. I think I was expecting to be spared the 2 year process. I'm not sure why I thought we'd be different. But it appears it might just take that long. And that has been a hard realization. And has left me feel hopeless and frustrated. However, God is faithful, he is true to his word, and he will bring us together. And I've been continually reminded of that.

Lately...

I haven't posted lately. Here are the lame excuses...
-The computer is broke. Again. Shocking, I know. Using borrowed computer. While I loath my computer, I miss it. It's ability to move quicker than the one it's been replaced with. The way the keys stick a little from past breakfast ate at it's side.
-School is starting. While I'm slightly busier trying to keep every ball in the air as we make changes to schedule, I did have time to watch movies last week and do some scrap booking. So this is actually not a valid excuse at all.
-I have net-flix now. Yes, it's a valid excuse. Maybe more than the back to school excuse. Now, I can easily indulge my love of independent, odd movies. As well as British comedies. And reruns of Punky Brewster and The Smurfs.
-I'm doing Weight Watchers. And there is meetings, and tracking, and measuring, and shopping, and walking, and reading, and, and, and... one more excuse.
-And I've been in a funk. I started this blog as a way to express and share our adoption journey, and our families life as we go through it. And lately, I've decided if I can't say anything nice, I won't say anything at all. My momma taught me that. And I think it might apply on my blog as well. I'm trying to figure out a way to share what is going on, how I feel about it, and have it not come across as sour grapes.

I have lots to share, and am coming around to place that I think I can. And as soon as I have my computer back I'll post updated pictures of Re and Er. Lets just say that if it's possible they got even cuter. And pictures of Ce and P. They are getting cuter, but it's balanced with the fact that they live with us. Which is a whole other post. Distance does make the heart grow fonder - and how that affects us as adoptive parents who are separated from our children for so long.

There is good news. After months of saving I was able to purchase my dream camera. A Nikon D90. I'm currently giddy with joy, and already planning on what flash/lens/memory/reflectors/ etc I have to HAVE. So I will be able to easily post pictures of some of the wacky day to day stuff around here. Of course, I did spend 2 hours researching and reading up on photography technique last night. It might also be another excuse why I haven't posted lately.

That my story and I'm sticking to it.

Lord, how do I leave the judgements behind...

This quote is posted here.

"For I was hungry, while you had all you needed. I was thirsty, but you drank BOTTLED water. I was a stranger, and you wanted me DEPORTED. I needed clothes, but you needed MORE clothes. I was sick, and you pointed out the BEHAVIORS that led to my sickness. I was in prison, and you said I was getting what I DESERVED."
-Richard Stearns, The Hole in Our Gospel


Okay, so I'm struggling with being content. And with leaving the judgements of others to God. Here is the struggle. I've now seen real poverty. Smelt it, felt it, and ached in the midst of it. Held the child that is too thin, saw the despair in a babies eyes, and felt the hopelessness that surrounds those who have no hope of it being different.


And I'm wishing for new couches because my hand me downs are falling apart. Then I think of how much hope you can give with $1000 of food. I'm frustrated by the dripping faucet, to remember that in Haiti clean water is a luxury for most. I wish for a fun vacation at that expensive resort, and then think about the good one person can do in Haiti in a couple weeks. I go out to eat, and feel the weight of a meal that cost as much as a week of food for an orphan.

It's hard to be content when you would really like a new couch. Or when your tired and just want to sit in a restaurant and have someone serve you a hot meal. It's hard not to spend a $1.50 on a bottle of water, when your thirsty. It's hard to live without the finer things in life, when your surrounded by it. It's hard not to compare what I have to others and not feel like it's lacking.

'IT'S not FAIR' I want to scream. It's not fair that babies die, because a Christian decides it's more important to buy a new car. It's not fair that children are slaves, because Christians think that name brand clothes that matter more than sending their own children on mission trips. It's not fair that people drink unclean water, but we have to have water that is filtered, doctored up and labeled.

And you know what is even harder - not judging others for what they have. To not think, for the cost of that trip you could have gone on a mission trip and changed a life. Or that the cost of new couch could have helped build an orphanage, and that their old one was much nicer than mine. Or wonder why a couple isn't willing to consider adoption, who can obviously afford more children and are wonderful parents.

And here's the kicker. I get feeling self-righteous. Yeah, I'm living it right. I got this Jesus thing figured out. I've chosen the right path. I've given up things of this world to make eternal difference. I'm living without the 'finer' things in life, to give orphans a home. Oh yeah- I can spin it so I'm practically a saint. And those other people, they really have it wrong.

Living in tension is a sign of maturity. I just read that truth. And cringed. Because I haven't been living in the tension. I've been wanting to have all the people who love Jesus, to love him in action the same way I do. I don't want to go without, to adopt, and have them getting new furniture, going out to eat, and living the 'nice' life. It's selfish, immature, and ugly. And I'm constantly laying it down, confessing it, and then the thought creeps in when someone brags about their new car, new furniture, new clothes, and anything else I deem judgement worthy.

So the tension is being happy for them, enjoying the blessings they are enjoying. And still being content with God's direction for my life. And knowing he doesn't desire a life of despair, because others live there. And leaving the judgement of peoples intentions and actions to him.

Because IF I'm doing all this to look good, to be a 'good' christian -well then I've missed the point too. Clashing symbols come to mind. (I Cor. 13).

Yeah....

Okay, summer is half over. One part says, "YEAH! Have a drink to celebrate. We've made it halfway and no one has been hurt and I have my sanity still"
The other part says, "What! How could it be half over. I feel like I've hardly began to spend time with my kids. We have so much left to do."
These two parts like to argue with each other.
"Don't be silly, you've had more than enough time with them. Won't it be nice to have your afternoons quiet again."
"But we were gone one week, they are gone next week. You'll be spending two weeks apart, we haven't made up for it."
"Heck, most parents only have a few hours a day with their kids. You have 12 a day, if they go to bed on time"
"But they share me, it's not the same."

Then there is the part of me saying, "Dang, laundry must reproduce itself." and "Who ate all the chips? Seriously, I just opened the bag." and "Oh my, where is the volume control. How long can I stand the noise." and "Wouldn't it be nice to go to a quiet office to work with adults" and "why is the kitchen floor sticky? Seriously, it wasn't when I left the house. Did the cleaning fairies miss the point."

We are getting a portrait of Re and Er painted. By a Haitian artist. It's part of a fundraiser for GLA. They sent 4 possible pictures to have the artist paint from. Help... How am I suppose to choose.

1. Look how cute Er is snuggled up against her big brother. Re looks handsome, and this one is really cute.

2.But then there is this one. They both are so animated. Alive. Happy.

3. But this one. It feels like Re is looking right at me, and I can see his heart. Er, on the other hand looks like she has a limp noodle for a right hand.

4.And this one is just freakin sweet. They are truly beautiful children.

So which one would you choose? Am I being too picky about it. I mean, it's only a painting we plan on keeping forever. A piece of their birth country.

Here is the picture we are having painted on C and P. I love this photo, it was taken on our beach vacation during Spring Break. They actually look like they like each other. And us, the parents. I have it in my bedroom, and so I'm reminded of how precious they really are. Because some days it's easy to forget that in the loads of laundry, breaking up fights, and trying to get them to put their shoes away.

So help a poor gal out. Which one is the one to have made into a painting? Which one goes best with C and P's picture? Does it really matter?

An adventure at the Embassy

Okay, so I'm in a better place than the last post. Thank God!
So I wanted to share about our appointment at the embassy. Let's just say it was a God thing.
We found out the week before we were suppose to leave that the embassy didn't have a file on us. It seems that the Yakima office didn't forward it to them. So began a series of calls to USCIS - also known as phone tree hell and "let me transfer you to the next level of customer service". It's goes something like this...
USCIS - blah, blah, blah, can I have your service number.
Me - I don't have a service number. It's for a I-600A.
USCIS- Have you submitted an application?
Me - Yes
USCIS -Do you have an approval or denial?
Me - It's been approved.
USCIS - Can I get the service number?
Me - Ummm....there isn't one of the approval letter
USCIS - Ma'am I can't help you without a service number. Let me transfer you to the next level of customer service.
Me - oh, oka....hold music
USCIS - blah, blah, blah ... can I have your service number
Me - AAAGGGHHHHH


We were able to put in a expedited service request. R had to call back and check on the progress. He went through 30 minutes of phone tree, being passed on, being told to go to an office that doesn't see appointments, he finally had a officer who seemed to be able to answer the questions. He was at work, and had to help customers as he held for someone who knew what we were talking about. In the middle of their conservation, he had a customer walk up and need to be helped. He told her to hang on a minute, and she told him he could call back when he wasn't busy. My dear, sweet, unassuming husband told her she could just wait for him to be done, he wasn't going through that again. I was so proud.

They wired our file on Thursday. As in the Thursday before we were to leave. And we had no way of knowing if it was received. On Monday, we received an appointment - so our file had made it. After all the time on the phone with USCIS - that was a God thing.

Once there, we all pile in the car to go to the embassy. R and I, the other couple who were filing, their darling little girl, and Eric. Eric is the social worker, who would be helping us with the process. On the way there we found out he had done this once before. Therefore making him an expert in Haiti. We get there, and go through security. Where they speak Creole and French. And some English. There seemed to be a problem, but we had no idea what. The security officer kept trying to call the lady who our appointment was with, and hanging up before it could have rang more than twice. The only evidence we had we should be there was a copy of an email with our appointments on it. Pretty soon, we figure it out. As they are sending us through without Eric.
Eric didn't have id. Pretty important to those security people at the embassy.
So it was the 5 of us. They pointed us in the right direction, and we knew we were to wait by window 28.
We went through security again. They called the lady again. They waited exactly 2 seconds before slamming the phone down and pointing us down the hall.
The hall opened into a large room. The was a wall of windows, and the rest was seating. Every window had a little P.A. box. Like at the bank drive up window. It was so quiet. We figured out why. They call your name through the little P.A. box into a room with 100+ people. We were told to sit as close to window 28 - so we would hear them call our names. Except that there was no open seats. The open seats were 4 rows away. But window 22. Not going to helpful. We found a place to stand, for about 10 seconds. Because that is how long it too the security guard to direct us sit in those seats 4 rows of chairs away from our window.
Every time we'd hear something come from that window- it sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher, trying to disguise her voice, speaking in French. So one of us would jump up to check if they were calling us. And every eye in the room would follow us.
We had a little backpack of treats and toys for the little girl with us. There were lots of children waiting with parents there. And there was no toys, no books, no treats, no nothing for them to do. They just sat there. No playing, no talking, no whining, just sitting. And their mama's weren't to pleased that we kept pulling out things to keep our little one entertained.
Every time someone would get called up to the window, and a chair opened up - everyone moved. There seemed to be a line they all knew to follow. Except us, we couldn't figure who moved when to where so we stayed put. So they looked at us funny every time they moved, and we stayed.
The fifth time we got up to check, the security guard began to wonder about us. She came over and asked in french something. We handed her our email. And she left with it. And we looked at each other with a slight panic. She took the only evidence that we should be there. She came back with it, and told us to wait. So we waited, and waited. We ate starburst and shared them with some of the kids setting near us. We had stopped getting up every time.
The call came out of the P.A. and sounded like french spoken through a wet towel, and everyone in the room turned and looked at us. The security guard scurried over, and waved to us that it was our turn. She kept saying, "Adoption". I guess it was obvious who they wanted.
We gathered our stuff up, and went to the window. They took our paperwork, and told us to wait. So we did for another 45 minutes. Eric showed up. He told us he didn't bring his ID to work, because he didn't know he'd need it. They called us back up, and we signed some papers, verified information, and were told to wait to be sworn in and sign the I-600. So we waited again. And finally they called us to the beloved window 28. And the guy, in all seriousness, says "Hey, I think I've seen you before." Oh, you mean the five times I came to your window thinking you were calling us. No, not me. Must have been the other white people that are here, oh - I guess that is us.
So we took an oath. To treat Re and Er as our own biological children. By then the room had cleared out. It felt a little anti-climatic. We couldn't take pictures. We didn't have proof other than a letter with an appointment for the birth parent interview. But it was done. Despite all the road blocks that popped up. Go God!!
The last funny thing about the embassy visit - about noon they turned on a soap opera. In English. I think they might have done it for our benefit. No wonder Haitians think all American's are filthy rich and give money away. The do on Days of our Lives.