Some may have seen my Facebook post about being one big step closer to South Korea.
The Lord has been faithful and we have crossed the homestudy bridge.
This is pretty significant, particularly in South Korean adoptions since South Korea requires no dossier.
Hopefully we'll hear later this week about the next steps that are specific to South Korea. Of course, like every mother everywhere, I want to know our "due date." For families adopting internationally that is the approximate date that we can expect to travel. I want to know how much longer I have to wait.
I know that in my posts here and on FB I have come across as excited about bringing Zach home.
I am. No doubt. I'm excited to add to our family with this very special little guy.
I'm also nervous and not just a little scared.
Why?
...Because our lives are very full as it is. Too full lots of days if you ask me. And I struggle with balance. I want to be everywhere and do everything with everyone and I can't.
...Because sometimes I am overwhelmed by sweet M's needs and there are days now that I do not want to have to call another doctor or arrange another test, or sit down with another specialist. It's too draining and painful. I have said more than once to the Reverend Husband, "What in the world are we going to do with two little guys like M?"
...Because I'm worried Zach might not be a good sleeper either and how in the world will I parent without sleep? I NEED sleep. I am an ugly person in every way when I haven't had it.
...Because I'm worried what else we'll find out about Zach once he gets home. M's adoption was such a surprise on so many levels. So many things came to light after the fact. It makes me wonder what we'll discover this go 'round.
...Because I'm afraid of the dark place that I was in just a few months after M came home. I know that dark place was because I had unreasonable expectations of M, and of myself. This go 'round I'm going to hope for the best and expect the worse. But I am afraid that part of "the worst" will include another bout with the demon of depression. Unfortunately he knows all to well where I live. But I want him to go to hell and stay there.
So given all these fears, why do we proceed? Are these good reasons to stop?
No. I don't think so. I have done a lot of soul searching because there are a lot of really logical reasons why this might not be a good idea.
But whether or not something makes sense to you and the others around you isn't always a good measure of whether God is asking you to do it. God speaks to His children. He has called us to this, and ultimately it's a matter of obedience. In times past, when God has spoken to our hearts and led us in a particular direction, it has rarely been "logical." But each and every time, when we have stepped out in faith to pursue what we believe He has called us to do, He has shown up in a BIG, God-sized way that has made it more than clear that we were doing exactly as He planned.
God has confirmed to us that this is the direction for us.
He has shown Himself in the details already. I know He'll continue to show up even on the days that I don't want to.
He'll change me, remake me, refine me again. It won't be comfortable. It won't be easy. Life will change. Life will look different. Life will be harder in some ways.
I will be forced to learn to die to myself again and again and be more like Christ.
But is that really such a bad lesson to have to learn and re-learn?
Someone once defined courage like this. Courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to move forward in spite of it.
It's the way God calls us to live.
"Be strong and courageous....The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." Deuteronomy 31:7 - 8
Heather
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
No Pride...
I've come to the conclusion that I must have no pride.
I really am not easily embarrassed. I blame that on my dad.
When we were growing up he did all sorts of strange things with us in public just to desensitize us what anybody else thought of us. For example, if we were at the mall, he would coax us to sit down on a display and pretend we were one of the mannequins. Or we would walk around and speak in various accents...British, Spanish, Russian, Hillbilly...you name it. He might break into song at random while we waited in line at a restaurant or walked through a store. We just never knew what he was going to do next. And we learned not to care what anybody else thought and just enjoy joining in.
The result of this curiously fun upbringing is that I don't have an interest in the opinions of strangers.
This attitude was particularly helpful yesterday.
M had an audiology appointment at a major university's hospital in our area. The Reverend Husband dropped us off at the front while he began the long and arduous task of finding a place to park.
M and I made our way into the building and over to the doctor's office. I needed a pit stop before our appointment, and since we were a little early, we headed to the restroom. It was in the restroom that it happened.
I got one side of my skirt stuck in my underwear.
I didn't see it. The mirror in the restroom wasn't long enough to alert me to my faux pas, neither did I feel a strange breeze.
Clueless, off I traipse, out of the restroom, down the long hallway, past the receptionist's desk and out into the lobby.
I no sooner opened the door to the lobby than a woman across from me caught my eye and (I think) mouthed the word "Ma'am!" I wasn't sure she was trying to get my attention, so I kept walking through the lobby.
Thankfully, she got up and approached me and filled me in on the fact that I had given anyone in the hallway, the receptionist, and half the lobby a full on view of my behind.
What did I do? I thanked her ever so politely and removed my skirt from my undies right there in the lobby.
Then I gave a little smile and a wave.
Not really. But the words, "Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave." from those penguins of Madagascar kept repeating themselves in my head.
And that was it. Incident over.
I don't even think I blushed.
Thanks Daddy.
Heather
I really am not easily embarrassed. I blame that on my dad.
When we were growing up he did all sorts of strange things with us in public just to desensitize us what anybody else thought of us. For example, if we were at the mall, he would coax us to sit down on a display and pretend we were one of the mannequins. Or we would walk around and speak in various accents...British, Spanish, Russian, Hillbilly...you name it. He might break into song at random while we waited in line at a restaurant or walked through a store. We just never knew what he was going to do next. And we learned not to care what anybody else thought and just enjoy joining in.
The result of this curiously fun upbringing is that I don't have an interest in the opinions of strangers.
This attitude was particularly helpful yesterday.
M had an audiology appointment at a major university's hospital in our area. The Reverend Husband dropped us off at the front while he began the long and arduous task of finding a place to park.
M and I made our way into the building and over to the doctor's office. I needed a pit stop before our appointment, and since we were a little early, we headed to the restroom. It was in the restroom that it happened.
I got one side of my skirt stuck in my underwear.
I didn't see it. The mirror in the restroom wasn't long enough to alert me to my faux pas, neither did I feel a strange breeze.
Clueless, off I traipse, out of the restroom, down the long hallway, past the receptionist's desk and out into the lobby.
I no sooner opened the door to the lobby than a woman across from me caught my eye and (I think) mouthed the word "Ma'am!" I wasn't sure she was trying to get my attention, so I kept walking through the lobby.
Thankfully, she got up and approached me and filled me in on the fact that I had given anyone in the hallway, the receptionist, and half the lobby a full on view of my behind.
What did I do? I thanked her ever so politely and removed my skirt from my undies right there in the lobby.
Then I gave a little smile and a wave.
Not really. But the words, "Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave." from those penguins of Madagascar kept repeating themselves in my head.
And that was it. Incident over.
I don't even think I blushed.
Thanks Daddy.
Heather
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Anxiety
Anxiety bites.
Having some deep unmet need that causes you to be fearful is upsetting to you and those who love you. Watching your children deal with this is disheartening.
One of the more difficult things about the adoption journey is sorting out where certain frustrating or strange behaviors come from. Is this behavior adoption related? Is it normal toddlerhood kind of behavior? Or also, in our case, does this behavior stem from the special needs we know our son has? It's quite a complex maze to navigate at times. It gets discouraging some days when doctors don't know and the questions keep changing as something "new" crops up.
I don't know if it's a neurological aspect of the special needs brain that causes the needs to change, or if it's just a function of our son's particular special needs. At any rate, it makes my head spin some days and some days I want to cry.
Today is one of them.
We seem to cross one hurdle or get one area under control only to find that another one has cropped up somewhere else.
So in this twisted journey of special needs adoption where so much is unknown, here's what I know:
My son was fearfully and wonderfully made by a loving God whose works are marvelous. (Psalm 139:14)
We are to be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, WITH THANKSGIVING, let our requests be made known to God; and (here's the best part) the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard our hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. (Phillipians 4:6-7).
Life is a vapor. We should not lose heart because our difficulties are for a moment and are working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal. (James 4:14, 2 Corinthians 4:17-18).
In heaven, there will be no hearing loss. No epilepsy. No developmental delays. No Down Syndrome.
And heaven is closer than we think.
If we are believers, our children with these special needs give us a rare and precious glimpse into that future and cause us some days to long for home a little more.
If having children with these needs causes me to devote my life to the service of someone besides myself to the glory of God; if it causes me to long for heaven all the more; if it grants me daily glimpses into the heart of my Father should I only open my eyes to see Him, then these difficulties are worth it.
The difficulties are temporary. Heaven is forever.
Now that's something worth shoutin' about!
Heather
Having some deep unmet need that causes you to be fearful is upsetting to you and those who love you. Watching your children deal with this is disheartening.
One of the more difficult things about the adoption journey is sorting out where certain frustrating or strange behaviors come from. Is this behavior adoption related? Is it normal toddlerhood kind of behavior? Or also, in our case, does this behavior stem from the special needs we know our son has? It's quite a complex maze to navigate at times. It gets discouraging some days when doctors don't know and the questions keep changing as something "new" crops up.
I don't know if it's a neurological aspect of the special needs brain that causes the needs to change, or if it's just a function of our son's particular special needs. At any rate, it makes my head spin some days and some days I want to cry.
Today is one of them.
We seem to cross one hurdle or get one area under control only to find that another one has cropped up somewhere else.
So in this twisted journey of special needs adoption where so much is unknown, here's what I know:
My son was fearfully and wonderfully made by a loving God whose works are marvelous. (Psalm 139:14)
We are to be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, WITH THANKSGIVING, let our requests be made known to God; and (here's the best part) the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard our hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. (Phillipians 4:6-7).
Life is a vapor. We should not lose heart because our difficulties are for a moment and are working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal. (James 4:14, 2 Corinthians 4:17-18).
In heaven, there will be no hearing loss. No epilepsy. No developmental delays. No Down Syndrome.
And heaven is closer than we think.
If we are believers, our children with these special needs give us a rare and precious glimpse into that future and cause us some days to long for home a little more.
If having children with these needs causes me to devote my life to the service of someone besides myself to the glory of God; if it causes me to long for heaven all the more; if it grants me daily glimpses into the heart of my Father should I only open my eyes to see Him, then these difficulties are worth it.
The difficulties are temporary. Heaven is forever.
Now that's something worth shoutin' about!
Heather
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