reality

I owe an update to my brother and sister in-law because they rebel against don't have facebook accounts.

Reality is hitting me tonight that in 14 days I am leaving for a foreign land to embrace a two year old child that I've never met.  I will bring her home to the boys I have known from my womb and we will be a family.  She will be their sister, and they will be her brothers.  We will be her mom and dad.

Forever.

I am looking in the face of mothering five children, living in the busiest and most demanding season of my life.  I am looking in the face of 15 years of marriage.

But honestly, when I'm buying a bottle of wine, I really feel like the twenty-something who needs to whip out her ID to prove she is old enough to drink.

Why don't I get carded anymore?

We are scheduled to depart for China on March 14th.  All of the airline tickets are booked.  My sister, mom, and favorite aunt are all taking time off from their jobs (some of it even unpaid) and away from their commitments at home to come out west and keep our precious boys feeling at home while we are away for the longest duration since any one of my little men were born.

It has been an eventful few weeks.

We received official Travel Approval from the Chinese government to come and adopt our daughter.  And for that we are excited and grateful.

We asked our agency weeks ago for a "safe" projected date that we could count on to travel.  Our agency sends parents in groups to travel to China every two weeks.  So, if your paperwork doesn't meet requirements for one group, you join the next group.

We asked for a projection because we wanted to use our frequent flier miles that were painfully earned by my Beloved's many nights away from our family working like a crazy man.

Long story short, we booked our tickets based on safe recommendations and after our paperwork caught up with us, our daughter's visa appointment at the US Consulate wound up being scheduled one day too late for us to be able to make our flight home.  Without any frequent flier seats left, it leaves us having to pay thousands of dollars for new tickets.

When our agency was telling me that there was no possible way to change this Consulate appointment, I refused to take no for an answer.  I announced our problem on facebook and was encouraged to seek help from my senator.  I promptly went to his web page, then dialed the local office.  A wonderful grandmotherly type woman answered my call, and after hearing an abbreviated version of our problem, she told me that there were staff members who handle these issues and could she have my name and number for one of them to call me back.

The dam broke and all the stress turned into emotion.  I could barely choke out my name and phone number through my tears.  But I did.

My call was returned by a very helpful woman, who said that she was hopeful that she could help.  She gave me instructions for what information to send in an email to her...

... and then she finished the conversation by telling me that she and her husband had just completed their second adoption from China just six months ago.

Thanks God.  I needed that one.

So now we are waiting to see if we need new tickets or if all systems are a go for Operation Bring Nesbit Home.

Reality is setting in.  My mind is reeling with my packing list and the adventure ahead of us.  So when I'm done writing this post, I have to order my daughter some shoes and socks!

bullets

• We inherited an outdoor cat to solve our mouse problems from some friends who moved away.  Our outdoor cat has suddenly become an indoor-sleep-on-Rufus's-bed-22-hours-of-the-day-until-I-put-her-out cat.  My husband likes We like her though. 
• I've decided that my favorite daytime listening Pandora station is "70's easy listening" - there is rarely a song I don't love.  I know, I should work in a doctor's office.
• I'm seeing my sweet Squirt blossom at four and a half years old.  I agonized over the thought of him going to Kindergarten this fall, but now I think he's really ready.
• Two weeks ago a dear friend and I set up a "let's meet for dinner come hell or high water" night.  That night was last night.  It was blissful.  We ate lots of food including fried green tomatoes.  We talked and talked and laughed until the restaurant closed and then we walked to my car, I drove her to her car, and we talked for another 30+ minutes.  I left with a smile on my face.  It was a treat.
• Fifth grade homework sucks.  I hate that projects become MY work and I wind up caring more about his responsibilities than he does.  Then again, I thought that midnight feedings sucked until I was on my third and fourth child and then they were easy.  So maybe fifth grade will be like that.  Or maybe not.
• I hate the school science fair.  Please refer to my previous bullet.
• My kids are so hungry when they come home from school.  Today I have dinner prepared for them at 3:30 so we can eat for real and then a snack later.  I'll report back with how that works.
• One of my older children still wets the bed at night and I've gotten my hands on a "potty pager" to try to train the stubborn child out of the habit.  Last night was the dry run, except it wasn't dry, it was wet, more than once, and he hates wearing it.  I hate pee, so there.
• The first part of January was spent painting Mrs. Nesbit's room, and since we've lived in this house six and a half years and I've been looking at dingy not-so-white walls and ugly light fixtures in my bedroom, I just decided to push on through and paint that room too (which happens to be a rather large bedroom).  Ceiling, trim, walls, outlets, light switches, and light fixtures are all new now.  I was an aching, messy, paint covered, non-showering woman on a mission for an entire week, but it is done and I love it!  Now we are drooling over the thought of new carpet, and I hate to drool.
• Because I know you're wondering, our adoption paperwork is in the final stages and we look on track to leave for China on March 14th.  My waves of anxiety have started regarding our/her transition and I'm clinging to the proven fact that God works good through the hard stuff in life.  Not that I wish it to be hard, but I want more of God for sure, so pretty much I can't lose, right?
• The ski season has been a total BUST so far and I am actually praying for several big, powdery snow storms to crush our little town so that I can frolic on the slopes sufficiently before I bring a precious two year-old home from China.  Have you ever known me to pray for snow?  It's bad, people.

wondering

To the bravest woman I know:

This is a unique day in our paths, for I am certain that we are both wondering similar things today about the same special little girl that neither of us are able to be with.  Are you wondering what our sweet two year old girl looks like?  Are you wondering if she will get a party today or open any presents?

Are you sharing my questions about her care and if she knows that she is an orphan?  Do you have any suspicions about what her future holds?

Are you remembering the moment you realized that she could not be yours forever?  I wonder about you all the time.   I wonder if you knew her fate before you gave birth, or whether upon holding her in your arms your tears fell because her gender or medical needs forced you to give her up.

Are you picturing the day you wrapped her tiny body in a blanket, placed her in a paper box, tucked a note with her information beside her, and kissed her goodbye?  I'm wondering if you watched from afar as she was found on the doorstep you left her on.  Did you ever walk by the orphanage hoping to catch a glimpse of her?

I'm certain that you are wondering about me as well.  Was your written request for someone to adopt her fulfilled?  Where is she in the world?  Does she have siblings?  Medical care?  Parents that kiss and cuddle her?  A warm bed?  A limitless future?

Whatever the reasons were for leaving her that day, I wish you could know that I think you are brave and I am grateful that you gave her life.  Whatever the reasons were that prevented you from being her forever mommy, I wish you could know that you will never be forgotten.

Because, although we can't celebrate with her either today, we will be with her soon and plan to celebrate many, many birthdays with her.  We will tell her what we know and as she grows, give her the freedom and opportunities to learn all she can about her beginnings.

We will fulfill your request to adopt her and heal her and open the lid to her future so that she can make whatever she wants of it.  We pray that she grows up to make a difference in the lives of others and make the world better, giving glory to the one who knitted her together in your womb.

My heart is tied to yours today as we wish Joya a happy birthday from much too far away.

Forever grateful,
Laurie

manna and quail

I have been told by other adoptive families that sometimes the life changing part of adoption is not necessarily the addition of a child to the family, but the process of getting to that point.  We are about two months away from our travel date, and I am gaining clarity that the process is life changing for me.

I have touched on the financial aspect of this adoption being a major source of stress and strain (very common for adoptive families).  The timing was terrible from a personal planning standpoint, and I had very little trust from the beginning that God would PROVIDE.  I went into this thinking we would have to be creative and work hard to pull together the finances ourselves.

Ten months into our adoption journey, I have finally come to the realization that God has been gracious to give us just enough.  He has met every invoice with just enough money in our adoption savings account to pay it.

It started about two months into the process.  I was telling someone close to me about the stress of paying the home study fee of $1,400.  We were really only dipping our toe into the adoptive waters where fees were concerned, but it felt like a ton of money and I really didn't know where the rest was going to come from.  A week later, a check for $500 arrived in the mail with an encouraging note telling me how much this couple wanted to be invested in our adoption because of their great excitement for our future daughter.

We were blown away.  I felt so loved, but I didn't realize that this was just a glimpse of the waterfall of financial gifts that were to come:

• A sweet friend showed up on our doorstep and said their family wanted to be involved, handed us an envelope, hugged us, and left.  We opened the envelope to find it contained $1,000 cash.
• Our friends chose us to be the recipients of their adoption jar and surprised us with $283.77.
• A friend who doesn't even know me that well, offered me ALL of her airline miles for our trip to China.
• Out of the blue, a close friend of my husband's sent us a card with a message explaining how our decision to adopt had touched his family.  Inside the card was a check for $500.
• My sister and my step-mom held a fundraiser for us in the Midwest.  Last I had heard, they had raised somewhere around $500, which was unexpected and amazing.  When Amy visited in December, she presented me with the final check - $1,365.
• The very first people who sent the $500 check came back and offered us an interest-free loan for any amount if the need should arise.
• Someone else very close to us contacted us and offered to pay for a significant portion of our travel expenses.
• In addition to babysitting for us free of charge countless times, my neighbor collected spare change and coffee money into a vase on her countertop throughout the summer and fall.  Over Christmas break, she brought us over $87 to contribute to bringing Joya home.
• I opened a Christmas card and a check for $1,000 fell out of it.  There was even a heartfelt offer to contribute more if we need it.
• I opened another Christmas card and a check for $200 fell out of it.  They included a note expressing the excitement this family shared with us across many miles.

Shortly before Christmas, I wrote a check toward our adoption costs for $10,860.  I moved the money from our savings account where all these contributions were deposited and waiting with the money we saved each month.

And there was just enough.

We don't have any idea where the rest of the money for our trip will come from.  To be honest, we've spent time drowning in the stress of it all and succumbed to some major marital arguments about it.  I'm sure Satan had a party that day, because after all that I had seen, I still doubted.  I still wanted control and security.

Today I was pondering the lesson that God has clearly been teaching me.  The gap in my faith at the beginning of this journey is glaring to me now.

I opened my Bible to Exodus chapter 16.  "Then the Lord said to Moses, 'I will rain down bread from heaven for you.  The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day.  In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions.' "  It goes on to tell how God provided quail (in the desert, go figure) each evening and Manna each morning - but only just enough for their immediate need so that they would continue to depend on Him.

Some of the Israelites collected more Manna than they needed, therefore disobeying God's instructions to depend on Him to provide food each day (trying to take over control).  "However, some of them paid no attention to Moses; they kept part of it until morning, but it was full of maggots and began to smell."

I am now confident that if we began our adoption with the funds ready to write checks for all the costs, I would have relied on our own abilities and resources and NOT God's provision.  My heart would be inwardly focused, crawling with maggots, and foul with smell.

I would not have been transformed into a more generous person either.  I'll be honest and say to you that I doubt I would ever show up on a friend's doorstep and hand over $1,000.  That example of sacrificial generosity showed me the person I want to be going forward.

But apparently I needed to be the recipient of such generosity in order to learn the importance of being the giver.

My responsibility is to do my best with what I have been given, with both possessions and talents.  But, first and foremost, He wants me to depend on Him for each day, for each invoice, for each unknown, and for each fear.

I'm thankful that He has withheld abundance in this part of our adoption.  My life is so abundant in many ways, but He has given us the GIFT of a picture of being in the desert, doing what He wants us to do, totally dependant on Him for what is next.

He has given us just enough.

merry christmas

Because He sent His son to pay for our transgressions, we celebrate this season.  Without his perfect plan, we would be without hope.

So we praise Him.

Merry Christmas.

her story - part five

Go here for PART ONE.

Go here for PART TWO.

Go here for PART THREE.

Go here for PART FOUR.

Our journey to being matched with our daughter had resulted in fulfilling confirmations of our decision to move forward.  We shared the news to everyone we could think of and sometimes just sat dreamily with smiles on our faces while we felt the love in our hearts grow for our daughter.

I mentioned previously the "compressed air" feeling of my emotions toward her, but my man described it perfectly (and hilariously) during the days immediately after our announcement.  "I feel like the Grinch at the end of the movie when his heart starts pounding and his emotions knock him on his rear."

It starts about at about 1 minute 30 seconds in this clip.

Oh how I love my Grinch.

I was recently reconnected with an old high school friend who is adopting from China and was just matched with her daughter as well.  We have exchanged some emails and she told me that she found out the meaning of her daughter's Chinese name.  I realized that I had never even thought to ask about the meaning of our daughter's name, so I wrote to the person at our agency who is Chinese by birth and fluent in Mandarin to ask her to translate for me.

"Rough and tumble", "stands with a fist", or "takes no crap from brothers" would have been perfectly appropriate translations and would have made me confident that she will fit in around here just fine.

But the reply I received was more perfect than anything I could have made up.

Her Chinese name means "In the light of winter".

Seriously, if you've been around for very long on this blog, you know that we live in (what feels like) eternal winter.  Our summers feel like other regions' winters.  In fact, we don't really put out winter clothes away, we just take some shorts and t-shirts out to add to the mix.  We smiled when we realized that our sweetie was made for winter.

Predictably, the cold weather and snow started to blow into our mountain town and in the coming weeks, I had the chore of changing out everyone's summer and winter clothes (well, really just putting away shorts and sandals), including my own.

I came across a treasure that I received nearly 15 years ago to the day.  My dear friend Karen and I met early in our freshman year of college and have always been close.  On the outside, Karen and I can appear quite different.  She like bare feet, I like shoes to protect my soles.  She likes big cities, adventures, and risks into the unknown.  Me, I like small towns, well planned out trips, and certainly knowing what I'm getting into.

On the inside, Karen and I are quite similar and where we differ, we very much compliment each other.  We have shared many cups of coffee and bottles beer over the years sharing our dreams, passions, and lots of laughter.  I am so thankful that we have not lost touch in the 15+ years since we graduated from college and I'm sure that we will still be calling each other in 25 years to share laughter over the births of our grandchildren and sorrows over the loss of loved ones.

When we graduated from college, Karen chose to spend two years in the Peace Corps.  I remember being in the campus library when she came bounding in to tell me where she had been assigned.

"I'm going to China!!!" she told me with a hug and a smile.

And she did.  She spent two years in China at the foothills of the Himalayas teaching English to Chinese high school students.  Although my kids find it hard to believe, we didn't have email during those days, so Karen and I were faithful pen pals across that tremendous ocean.  In the fall of 1996, she mailed me a beautiful piece of artwork from her new home.

This beautiful scroll is a wall hanging that I have kept with me for 15 years.  I have moved it many times from one home to the next, and always had it tucked in a safe place.  In fact, my husband (the de-clutter freak) has suggested many times that I get rid of it because I've never had quite the right place to hang it.  I refused every time, saying that I didn't care if we never hung it up, I would keep it until my dying day because it was dear to me.

Little did I know how dear it really was.

As I was taking out my sweaters and putting away my shorts, I saw the scroll peeking out from the open bin from underneath my bed.  I have looked at it many times in 15 years, but this time I had new eyes to see it with.

The pink flowers and Chinese writing instantly made it the perfect centerpiece for Mrs. Nesbit's bedroom.  I was excited to bring it out and start planning her room around this precious keepsake.

But it gets better.

I have never detached the note that Karen sent with her gift.  I have read this note so many times, but again, with new eyes, I was able to see that God had planned this perfectly.

"October 24, 1996.  Laurie, I like to think of a piece of China hanging on your soon-to-be own apartment wall next to your photographs from all over the world.  The words at the top are a poem that talk about a man who is far away from home that misses his friends and family.  I cannot begin to express how much I long to have you near.  Think of how much I love you when you glance at the plum blossom.  My friend described this winter flower as 'the one that comes out when the others go away.' Always near you, Karen"

Immediately, my eyes filled with tears as the goose bumps formed on my arms.  In all the times I have read this note simply to feel close to my dear friend who has since lived far away from me, never did I dream that the note spoke of my daughter!

Joya will suffer grief in some form as a girl stretched between two continents.  Her love and loyalties will be challenged and distributed.  Although right now, she is lucky enough to be in a loving foster home from just days after she was found, the painful part of that is that she has no idea that she is an orphan.

When she is placed into our arms in a few months, she will not feel relief that she finally has a family.  She will justifiably feel confused and angry and ripped from the only family she has known.  The family she loves.

But we will wait for our little plum blossom to show herself.  We know that she is the winter flower that will blossom with us when the others go away.  We will patiently endure her emotions through the transition and growth into connection with her new family.

Her forever family.  Our family.

her story - part four

Go here for PART ONE.

Go here for PART TWO.

Go here for PART THREE.

After making the decision to be Mrs. Nesbit's parents late on Sunday night, I don't even need to mention how hard it was to sleep.

I had a very busy Monday on my calendar, the bulk of which I was scheduled to be at Squirt's preschool.  We were up bright and early printing pictures of Mrs. Nesbit for the boys to take to school to show off.

But first we had to tell them.

What a fun experience.  They were all eating breakfast and my Beloved and I said that we had a big surprise for them.

"Is it a Wii?" one asked.

"It is better than a Wii," we answered and added, "And we are not a video game family, so don't plan on a Wii arriving anytime soon."

"Are we going on a trip?" a second boy took a guess.

"Well, 'we' are (indicating Mom and Dad), but 'we' aren't (motioning to the entire family)," I replied.

At that moment, their proud dad turned his laptop screen around toward them revealing her sweet face.

"Hey, I've seen that picture before!  Who is that?" Sauce chimed in.

"That is your baby sister!" we excitedly told them together.

Excitement and laughter and questions about her quickly filled our kitchen.  We told them everything we knew about her and what her new name would be in our family.  All four boys, who had the words 'Mrs. Nesbit' firmly ingrained in their vocabulary, symbolically left her orphan status in the past by immediately ditching the nickname and have referred to her by her real name ever since.

"Aw Mom!  I wish we could go get her tomorrow!"

"Me too buddy.  Me too."

They all tenderly put the pictures into their backpacks and anxiously headed off to school to show her off.

Like I said, I had to get going with my busy day, but I was bursting at the seams to tell as many people as my excited and scattered brain could think of before I left the house.  First, I called my mom, dad, brother, and aunt, so that they wouldn't hear through email or social media.  Then I compiled a short but sweet email announcement to as many people dear to me that I could think of in the time I had left.

Off to preschool we went and to my delight, replies to my email came in all day.  Thank God for smart phones.

Do you remember my mention of signs coming after the decision was made?  Good.

I want to stop and tell you a couple of things about my sister in-law Andrea, the brilliant neurologist who helped us with Mrs. Nesbit's file and medical diagnosis.  She is so gifted in so many areas beyond medicine.  She is a wonderful mother and wife and sister and friend.  I look up to her in many ways.

She is also VERY logical and fact oriented.  She is much like my husband, seeking concrete evidence to make a decision or determine authenticity.  In fact, when I was getting tired of waiting for that blasted x-ray, she made me laugh by saying to me, "I have to side with Kenyon.  You'll have to go to Jeff for sympathy on this one."  Jeff is my brother (and her husband) and is much more like me in decision making and emotional reactions.

When Andrea experiences God, she does so through clinging to the truth of His Word and deliberately focuses on His promises.  She is not a "sign" type of girl.

Which is why, I am sure, that God chose her.

She did not know that we made our decision late Sunday night.  She was still praying for us through the process, but thought we were waiting for more medical information to solidify our position.  She was included on my email Monday morning.

Her reply:
"I was going to email you anyway today because I had the most vivid dream last night.

The dream was of little Joya clinging onto your leg tightly like she was afraid and you were soothing her like any Mommy would... and then bigger versions of the little girl walked up one by one... the first "bigger version" of the littler girl was a grade schooler, and then a high schooler, and then a grown woman... each one knelt down by the little girl clinging to your leg and told her that everything was going to be alright and that you would take care of her and that she didn't have to cry... and the last one was the grown woman and she was full of poise and grace and had a beautiful smile... and then she disappeared but the little girl stopped crying and was smiling up at you with big, shiny wet eyes...

I was breathless when I woke up. "

Sign from God?  Check.  Kenyon and I were both brought to tears and in awe of how perfectly that happened.  If anyone else had experienced that dream, we could have easily written it off as ordinary for that person.  But not Andrea.  Increased faith?  Check.

As if that wasn't enough, we still received two more little gifts from God that made us delight in our decision.

But it would be no fun if I didn't string you along just one more time!