Honesty - Its Not Always Pretty

I didn't publish this when I wrote it early last month. . But I think I will now, and then I hope to work up something a little more cheerful.  You never know when something might resonate with someone else.  So even though putting myself out there makes me feel vulnerable, its worth it if it helps someone else.



October 9, 2013


Just a little bit of honesty.

I'm grumpy.

When we were waiting for a referral back in June, we were giddy with excitement.  We laughed at the way we stalked our phones and emails.  We giggled with glee when we saw pictures of other families meeting their children, packing, traveling, coming home...  I stared at little boy clothes and frantically planned a trip that we were hoping would come will very little notice before the courts closed for rainy season.

This time, I'm not giddy with excitement, and I don't like it.  My heart is just filled with anxiety over seeing this little face and getting to them without delay.  I keep telling myself that surely the same thing can't happen twice. I know that the feeling I'll get when we receive our next referral will be so joyous that it will push some of these feelings aside, and I am just so impatient to have that relief.  Because right now I am reaching so hard for HOPE and it seems just beyond my grasp.

We have company coming, so I had to box up our travel items that were still left from July in the guest room.  I packaged up the donations in a big tub.  I put the couple of things we were planning to leave for Caleb between the first and second trip in a bag.  It was hard.  It was like admitting that we weren't going, at least not anytime soon, to get our little one.  Its hard to hold on to hope in a moment like that.


Now to add to it, since I'm being honest, I may as well go all out.

I am so ridiculously horrible about feeling guilty.  Ridiculously. Horrible.

Didn't do the dishes and Adam does them for me? Guilt.  Let the girls watch two hours of TV while I do ANYTHING? Guilt.  Forget to pray for someone? Guilt.  Forget to return an email? Guilt.  Feed small people hot dogs again instead of all organic something-or-other-good-for-them food? Guilt.  Oh it goes on and on.  I told you. Ridiculous.  

I am so richly blessed.  I know this.  And my, oh my, how my blessings keep me busy.  Adam and the girls, church, work, home school, opportunities to serve, praying, housekeeping.  I've got plenty to do and my cups overflows with good things.  So why do I let myself be overwhelmed with this bad mood.  I feel that my attitude says so much about my heart.  For a person to feel so tired and worn in the midst of all these blessings is practically sinful.  I feel so guilty for being bummed in the face of all these good things.

Guilt = worse mood.

My best friend said it best the other day and offered me a little grace for my heart.  It's not being impatient.  It's not really complaining.  It's a yearning.  I'm yearning for that joy  -for that moment of relief, when hope is realized.  When faith becomes sight (that's Biblical, you know)  Even though "referral day" won't place our little one in our arms, it will give us tangible evidence of things to come, it will give us renewed strength and the chance to do something proactive to get that baby home!  For now, I can't file a single piece of paper work, plan one inch of a big trip, storm into a government office and demand my paperwork be expedited (not that I would, but a girl can dream of heroics!).  All I can do it wait. And its frustrating. And I have found I am not very good at it.  And well, I feel guilty about not waiting more patiently as I know that good things are too come.

Ah! A vicious cycle.  I'm stuck in it.

High hopes that hitting the publish button will trigger an automatic better attitude, having gotten this off my chest.  I'll have to let you know.

A Letter Like I've Never Written Before

Hey Buddy,

I've been thinking a lot about you.  I realize that might sound silly to you.  Even though I loved you, you never knew me as a momma.  Well, you never knew me at all I suppose.  I've been thinking about you and about your momma.  I've been thinking about the two women who loved you a whole lot, and working out some things in my head.  Maybe not real things, but possible things, and they are things that give me a lot to think about.

I've been thinking about your momma.  About how she left you at a bus station.  About how here, in America we really look down on that kind of thing.  But how there, in Ethiopia, sometimes a momma just doesn't know what else to do.  Sometimes a momma kisses her little boy goodbye and leaves him somewhere she knows that he will quickly be found and taken somewhere where he can be cared for.  At the orphanage where he ends up, no one will look right or feel right to him, cause they aren't his momma.  But there will be food! And clean clothes! And warmth! And medicine! And HOPE!  That's what a momma must be thinking about when they leave their tiny beautiful baby boy in a bus station and walk away.

If I was your momma in Ethiopia and I couldn't feed you, I don't know what I would do.  Would I just keep doing the best I could knowing I might have to watch you starve to death?  Would I pray to God to protect you from the pain and sorrow I've had in my short life?  Would I leave you, hoping you would be adopted by a momma a whole world away who would love you like her own?  I just don't know.

I have to imagine that your momma prayed for you before she left.  Maybe she prayed that you would never have to suffer the same struggles that she had.  I don't know, but that's what I would pray if I was raising my sweet girls in a hard place.

This momma?  Waiting here.  Just praying you would be healthy and safe and know you were loved until I could come and get you.  Praying we would get to travel before the courts closed. Praying Adam's boss wouldn't mind us leaving on short notice.

God answers prayers.  I believe that.  What I have to believe is that your momma prayed that you would be spared the sorrows of this world and that God heard and answered her.  And she wasn't there when you left.  And neither was I.  But I can promise you that you were loved by two mommas, and that's a lot of love right there.  And I have to believe that you could feel that.  That you could feel the love of two mommas who are glad you won't ever hurt or grieve or experience the injustice of the world, but who miss you just oh-so-much. 

I think about how if your mom had found and enrolled in one of those sponsorship programs, would I have clicked on your family picture and agreed to give $30 a month to help you live.  Would I be willing to give you the equivalent of one meal eaten out each month to keep you alive and with your mom?  I'd like to say yes.  I do that, I do sponsor a family in Ethiopia, just one.  But I also spend way more money each month on other things.  Could I have looked at your face and then decided to spend my $30 somewhere else?  I know I have it to spare...

Little Guy, I'd have given everything I have to bring you home and clothe you, feed you, take you to the doctor and the ice cream shop, but I couldn't. And then I stop and think how many times have I turned my head from others like you who needed help, can I love them like that? Could I love them enough to really sacrifice to help them just like I would have done for you?  It's what we are called to do, isn't it?

Baby Boy, five months isn't much time to make an impact.  Most of us can't brag that we've influenced anyone at all for the better, maybe in months, or in years.  But you?  In five months you've opened the eyes of hundreds of people.  So many people I know are much more aware of the needs of orphans and families in Ethiopia now.  Your story is sad from a worldly perspective, and if I could change it, yes, I believe I still would.  But you, Caleb Temesgen, you aren't just a sad story, because I will never, ever forget you and I know that your short little life will influence others to do better.  To give more. To love more.  To stop worrying about the emotional, physical, and financial risks of loving and helping another person.  To see the hurt and the need in this country, your country, and the rest of the world.  To stop looking in selfishly and start looking out selflessly. I will remember you and work harder to help other little fellas just like you.  Your memory will help me open my eyes and my heart to all the other little Calebs out there, and their mommas.  

Thanks Buddy for listening to me ramble, and for helping me become a better person.

Love,
Your Momma

Blog Therapy

My thoughts won't flow as easily from my brain to the computer as my husbands did last week.  I really don't have a lot to add to what he said, but I would say that he is in a different stage of accepting things than I am.  He has a lot more clarity and I'm oh....just a tiny bit a whole lot more emotional about things than he is.  He said sharing was therapeutic for him, so I figure I'll give it a shot. I apologize in advance for the lengthy post.

Yesterday I started out my day just basically feeling sorry for myself.  I normally feel genuinely happy for people who are experiencing a lot of joy in their lives, but yesterday I just couldn't do it.  I fought all morning with being angry and bitter about other families getting referrals and leaving for Ethiopia to go get/meet their little ones.  Pure old-fashioned ugly jealousy I suppose.  Then, as I am prone to do, I felt ashamed of myself and guilty for feeling angry and bitter.  By 10 am I had already filled my daily plate full of anger, bitterness, jealousy, impatience, and guilt.  All of that mixed with sorrow and fatigue from not sleeping well and working night shift just pushed me over the edge.  I'd say the term "despair" would be putting it lightly.  I held it together long enough to make PB&Js for the tiny people who run in circles around me everyday and then I phoned a friend.

With less than 30 minutes notice this kind soul agreed to watch my sweet kiddos while I took "some time for myself".  I barely made it home before my emotions completely took over.  I literally lost an hour of time laying on our deck face down crying hysterically.  I hit rock bottom.  I mean, I've been treading water for about 3 weeks here, trying to be strong and pretend I'm fine.  I avoid conversations and questions that might upset me, I refuse to make eye contact when people ask me how I am.  I don't know if it is pride or just not wanting to bother people or not trusting people with my feelings, but I've been holding everything in for so long and it just came rushing out.  If I keep using the treading water analogy, basically yesterday I just quit kicking.  I just laid on the bottom of the pool and drowned in my sorrow.

I cried.  I prayed. I got mad and refused to pray. Cried again. Gave up. Prayed again. Cried.  It was awful. Just awful.

But you know what?  When I was done, even though I was exhausted mentally and physically, I somehow felt a little bit better.

I've been having trouble talking to God about what has happened.  Just like I've had trouble talking to other people about it.  But I finally just said it and put it all out there.  I told him I was angry and bitter and that I need help with that.  I told him that I don't understand how this fits into His plan for us.  I told him I was tired and weary from worry and working.   I poured out all the grief and anger I'd been storing up in my heart, and I'll be honest with you...it was ugly. I am so grateful that no one there to witness it and it was all between me and God.  I told him it was just too much for me.  I asked for help.  I asked for answers.

You know what I did NOT get?  A vision.  A voice from Heaven giving me insight into His plan for me. Writing on the wall.  My Bible magically opening to a comforting passage. None of that.  (Maybe a good thing, remember Job?

You know what I did get? Relief. From being honest with Him about the state of my heart.  Relief from finally addressing the grief that I was holding inside.  Peace. From turning it all over to Him, even though I can't explain it.  Peace from acknowledging that I just can't do this on my own and letting someone else help.  Freedom.  From pretending to be strong enough to deal with it on my own.  Freedom from acting like my faith and hope haven't been shaken.  And comfort. I know that all these feeling won't magically disappear but I believe it will get better. Comfort from knowing that there are people that God has placed in my life specifically to be supportive and kind and help me get through this.

Today?  I was still tired this morning when I was ambushed by my kids asking for story-time in my bed.  I still wasn't interested in eating, but I enjoyed my coffee. I still felt sad when I read about another family traveling to meet their little ones today, but I didn't feel angry.  I still counted it a blessing when another friend offered to watch my girls for a few hours because I'm still not back to my old self.  I will still cry when I look at that tiny picture and see those big brown eyes. 

But I am not overwhelmed. God has restored my hope and renewed my faith.  And I can't quite explain it.

I read this from "For Instruction in Righteousness" by Pam Forster which I had pulled out to use in homeschooling this year.  I had to read it several times to let it sink in.  It says "We should also help our children realize that obedience is not always clearly blessed in the ways we perceive blessing.  Sometimes God blesses us by sending us more trials that will help us continue to grow, or challenges that will help us better comfort others who go through the same sorts of trials.  We must simply obey God and trust the results with Him.  We know that ultimately, even if not clearly apparent here on earth, He will reward us for our obedience when we stand before Him."

I know there are more rocky days to come. But today I thank God for the sunshine and the rain.  For a wonderful husband who holds me up when I can't keep going.  For my three precious girls and their joy for life.  For the body of Christ who has lifted us up in prayer and sent cards and made calls and helped with the girls.  For a second chance.  For God who will not turn His back on me, even when I refuse to look up to Him.  For His patience. For His promise that I will get to see that little boy someday and that my Caleb will be protected from the heartache of this world. For a Father who knows my heart and promises peace if I will just hold tight to Him and my faith.

Today I am better than yesterday.  I'm not sure what tomorrow will bring but trust that I will get through it.

My Thoughts on the Death of My Son

Adam here…

This may be a little random in places, but I need to get some thoughts out where someone can see them.

It’s been a hectic two weeks. To say the least. Amanda and I want to say thanks to everyone who has shown kindness and concern for us. It is greatly appreciated.

I haven’t said much since Caleb’s death, partially because I don’t know what to say, and partially because having my feelings on record means that they’re real and everyone can see what happens inside my head, which is not something I normally relish.

First, allow me answer a question or two that continue to come up:

•  Yes, we still intend to adopt. Just like I would imagine with a family that suffers a miscarriage, we still intend to keep working toward bringing home a child that needs a family. Our family.

• We’re doing okay. Working with the teens at camp last week was a wonderful experience and served as a good distraction, but coming home again brings it to the forefront. We had begun to amass supplies/donations in expectation of an imminent travel date, so having all these things ready to go just reminds us of the disappointment that we won’t be taking the trip according to plan.

• Where to from here? As I said, we still intend to adopt, so for the moment we have asked our agency to place us “on hold” so that we can grieve and process the situation. We may decide to go back on the list sometime in the next few months, so it is feasible that we could bring home a child closer to the holidays.

One of the hardest parts about this whole situation is all the “I don’t knows”:

• Could anything have sped up the process? I don’t know.

• Would the result have been the same? I don’t know.

• Will we get any more information on what happened? I don’t know.

• How long am I supposed to grieve for a child I never met? I don’t know.

• Is it appropriate to tell people that I lost a son? I don’t know.

• In the distant future, will I remember him as having been one of our family? I don’t know.

• Will I worry every waking second about another child that is referred to us? When it happens, can I express the joy that I did with the first one? Will hearing the name “Caleb” in any context from this point forward continue to remind me of the hole in my heart? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know… 

I’ll tell you what I do know:

I trust in God. I told Him so over and over again on that horrible, stormy day....

I don’t know His plan for us, other than that He will be glorified in all circumstances, whether they are to our benefit or not.

I keep trying to tell myself that death is all just one of those circumstances. It’s a part of all of our lives and we’ll all go through it.

However, we’ve experienced a lot of death in our family, and frankly, I’m tired of it. Fathers, brothers, grandparents, friends…  For years, I have looked at the phone with dread anytime it rang and I wasn’t expecting a call. It’s like when someone comes up to you and says, “Can we talk for a minute…?” Dread.

I’m done with getting these types of phone calls. Calls where I have to rush home to share news that no one wants to hear. Calls from which the physical, mental and spiritual repercussions linger for days, months, years.

But they are in our plan for a reason, even if I can’t see it.

I think we’re good people. We trust in God and we try to do right by Him and by others. Why do these things happen to us? Were we just being used in some greater cosmic plan?

The short answer is: yes. We were. And I mean that in the best way possible.

I’m sure Mary felt the same way at some point: “God, was I just a vehicle to bring a baby into the world who was ultimately going to die? Why me? Did You think that I could bear it more than anyone else? You said I was blessed among women? I certainly don’t feel like it!” 

But you know what? No matter what amount of suffering Mary went through, the result of her son’s death sent ripples through the lives of people everywhere. The death of our son has already had an effect on a few, I hope.

Can I blame God for what has happened to our family?

I just can’t bring myself to do it. What good would it do? He is the Supreme Creator of the universe and everything in it belongs to Him. I can’t accept good and not adversity. It’s all a part of the human condition.

But I can tell you that Jesus experienced every bit of grief and endured every hardship so that Caleb could be with Him. And so that we could too.

And so that you, reader, whoever you are, could be too.

Caleb, I loved you, even though I never saw you. I look forward to the day when you and I can finally meet in a place that will never keep us apart again.

Thanks for letting me get my thoughts out.

Emotional Week

I didn't want to rewrite this so I pulled it over from facebook.

I'd really love to skip the post altogether but without it our path from here won't make sense to anyone who might be following along on our journey.  Also, right now I will take all the prayers I can get.

I'm not sure how to write this. I sure know I don't want to write this. Three weeks ago we accepted the referral of a 5 month old baby boy in Ethiopia. We received a picture and his information. We named him Caleb. We washed and folded and sorted tiny blue clothes and prayed for a court date to get him home soon. We fell in love.

We received a phone call from our agency last Wednesday telling us that our little boy passed away, he had pneumonia.

Even though we never got to hold him or meet him, we loved him. And even though we know that he is in Heaven where he will never be hungry, cold, sick or abandoned ever again, we still grieve the fact that he won't be coming home to us. Adam and I and the girls need your prayers right now as we struggle to make sense of the situation.


July has been a very emotional month for me. In the last two weeks I have helped a momma welcome her beautiful daughter into the world and helped another momma say goodbye to her tiny sick son. I have given a baby her first bath and I have given a baby his last bath. I have rejoiced as Caleb was added to our family and wept when he was taken away.

I can't say I always understand God's plan, but I can say that I believe and trust in a God who loves His children and always keeps His promises. This life is just so hard sometimes and I am so glad I can look forward to something better someday. I pray that I can turn this all over to God and may my grief become a blessing to someone else someday.

3 All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. 4 He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4

My heart aches because I didn't get to hold him or tell him he had a family. I know he knows that now. We are so sorry we didn't make it in time sweet boy. We hope you know how much you were wanted and loved.

Amanda

Hooray!!! It's Referral Day!!

It was almost exactly one year ago that we followed through on our decision to adopt and submitted our initial application to Adoption Assistance here in KY.  A few months later we narrowed down our choice of agency and started our paperwork. 

Its seems funny to see what terrible bloggers we are.  Our last post was about my nervousness when mailing out our dossier in October.  Now I'm posting with great joy that we have accepted a referral of a precious baby boy.

We received a phone call yesterday from our agency while Adam was at work.  He ran out of the office to come home so we could hear the info together.  He ran right out the door like the place was on fire and straight to the parking garage, where he realized..........he hadn't parked in the parking garage.  So he ran to the front lot of his office building....then realized he hadn't parked there either!  So he finally made his way to the back lot and came home with his phone burning a hole in his pocket.  I love it when he is so excited about something that he can't think.  (He did something equally as silly when we found out our first child was a girl) We called our agency, so excited we couldn't stand it and............our case manager was ON THE OTHER LINE!!!  We waited as patiently as possible for 45 minutes and then the phone rang again.

After reviewing the file of our sweet little fella and seeing his picture we accepted the referral almost right away.  We then celebrated with the girls by going for ice cream and a tiny shopping trip to Target to get a few "blue" things :)  

We can't wait to share photos with the whole world, but we must wait until after we go to court in Ethiopia to post his picture online.  Let me tell you though, he has big brown eyes just like the girls and big squishy cheeks like Jillian that I just can't wait to kiss. His given name means "Glory be to God for the birth of this child." and he shares a birthday with Adam's dad. Perfect. Just perfect. 

Now we wait to see if we can be submitted to court before the Ethiopian courts close for their rainy season.  Roads wash out and make travel very difficult, so the courts in Addis Ababa close for about 8 weeks.  If we do not make it before the closure on August 6th, we will have to wait to October to travel for court and then another several weeks to go back and get our little boy.  Sooooo all my prayer warrior friends, please please pray that we will be able to go meet him next month and bring him home maybe in September.  Either way, we have faith that the timing will be just right!

My big girl, C, drew this picture as soon as she saw her baby brothers picture.  She says she can't wait to play with him and hug him.  Me either, sweet girl, me either!

Three little Higgie girls, Mommy and Daddy holding Baby Boy!

The Waiting List!

I mailed our dossier to the Assistant Stork on Halloween. To say the day was filled with mixed emotions would be putting it lightly.

Excitement! This is it! We are done on our end for now. It may still take awhile to bring our little lady home, but it won't be because I am not finished with paperwork. I'm going to add another sweet little face to my daily routine.  Our family is growing again and approval from the Ethiopian Embassy is the adoption pregnancy test!  It was positive!

Anxiety. How can I just hand this packet over to that girl standing there behind the counter?  Does she know how irreplaceable these original documents are?  Does she know that, in my eyes, a small child's life depends on this envelope reaching Washington DC? Can she be trusted with five months of hard work?  How old is she anyway?  What kind of collateral can she offer in exchange for this prized document?  What is her last name? Her phone number and address? What is her mother's maiden name? Last four digits of her social? And then I breathe, and calmly hand my envelope over, pay my $22.68 and she says with a smile, "Are these adoption documents?  I know they are very important to you, I just helped my friend put together her dossier!"  I sigh and my heart rate returns to normal, thank you kind young person at the local UPS Store.  That simple statement made that moment a whole lot easier!

Relief.  It's done.  And now it is out of my hands.  I can let go and let God take over. And That is a joyous feeling.

And in the end....


Praise.  For the God of the universe who looked into my heart and Adam's heart and said, "No, you aren't done yet.  You do have room in your home and your hearts for another child.  There is someone who needs you, please let them in."  What loss and sorrow this little one will have already experienced even before the age of 2.  But what love they will have in our home to mend their broken heart, to once again be held and told "You are loved, treasured and precious.  You are a gift from God."

My job now is to pray and prepare.  These two things, I can do.

~Amanda