Drum Roll, Please.....

Tonight, we received the announcement that has felt elusive for the past year. Christopher is now a Hires!

In November 2011, all our translated, legalized documents were sent to Haiti. It took the lawyer a total of 5 1/2 months to finalize Christopher's paperwork just in time to have the Haitian IBESR close their doors to new dossiers (May 1, 2012). We happened to be in Haiti with our agency director when he picked up the final paper May 3rd. Every adoptive parent in our travel group circled together on the porch of the orphanage guesthouse, petitioning God for a miracle that we could somehow get into the system. God answered a silent "No" which was sooo hard to hear. We prayed through the whole summer that IBESR would open at the end of May, then in June, then July. Finally, August 16th IBESR opened. We waited for news. Our lawyer has never explained why she waited until September 11, 2013 to file our dossier. We will never know the delay. It was hard to trust God, knowing that we had no control. We wanted to get angry, yet we knew there was no point.

On the flip side, we will never know why we have been blessed to see such incredible speed in the past month. What I do know is that God is God and I am not. God is a God of miracles whether he answers prayers "Yes", "No" or "Wait". While we wait, while we question His timing, there is one thing we know for sure - God has always known. He is here with my family in Colorado and He is there with my family in Haiti. He intimately knows our lawyer, everyone that works at our agency, our orphanage director and all the men and women who work tirelessly taking care of my children. He knows the families that have gone before us and the families that are walking with us. He intimately knows me.

Yesterday was a day of sorrow. Today was a day of rejoicing. Through it all, I am confident that God was present and felt it all. He knows greater pain and greater joys than I can ever experience. He carries my darkest burdens and puts me on His shoulder when I cannot walk. I can sink to the depths and rise to the heights with assurance that where I am there He is also.

The wait is not over. And as the cheering dies down over today's amazing news, I pray this:

God, stay in my sights so that I am not tempted to believe I am alone and take over. 

Each morning, show me what you need me to learn 

and prompt me to be still so that I can draw closer to constant dependence on You. 

A Day to Overshare

I pride myself in being level-headed and pragmatic. It drives my girls crazy and keeps my marriage in tact. Since starting the adoption process, I have begun to get emotional and irrational. In the last year, I have been battling mild depression. I call it mild, why? Because I'm level-headed and pragmatic. Since last May, I've been known to cry at the drop of the hat. I've had days where I laid in bed after my kids go to school not knowing why I have zero motivation to move forward. I reassure myself that there's nothing more I can do. I have filled out all the paperwork, I have read the books, I have second guessed and triple prepared myself for what is to come. I have thought through every scenario (good but mostly bad) and have come up ready for my Haiti babies to be home. I pray and cry out and ask God to move mountains but then end up in a heap of snot rags. So very sad. It comes and goes so I went to a Nutritionist who told me I am uber-healthy in some ways and crashing & burning in other ways but none of it makes much sense. Great.

Why so vulnerable today? That's the question, isn't it. Maybe all this teenage, hormonal crazies hitting me in my late 30s is wigging me out and I am making up for lost time. I want to overshare with someone. I want to talk it out. I want someone to hear me and tell me, "You need meds" or "This is SOOO normal". I reached out for help. Yesterday, after 3 weeks of phone tag, I finally set up an appointment with a counselor for today. I got all gussied up, got in my car, drove 45 minutes to be 5 minutes early. I was there and I was ready to hear the painful truth - "We've got some work to do."

I sat in the waiting room for 40 lonely minutes. I called her after 20 minutes, even though I knew she wouldn't answer. I played back the phone call in my mind from the day before. Maybe I misunderstood what she said. No, I typed the appointment into my phone as we were talking. I couldn't help but fight back tears. Why was I so sad? I cried all the way home.

(Pause as I go blow my nose and pull myself together.)

So, I cry. Today is a sad day. I cry because I couldn't talk it out today. I cry because I need advice specific to my needs and not general "This worked for me" talk that is readily available from strangers who have NEVER been in my shoes but seem to know it all. I cry because my son is seeing some of his friend's parents come to take them home this week. I cry because we have no hope of getting into the system with our baby girl in the 2013 year. I cry because I so desperately want this part of the journey to be over. I cry because each day I don't have my kids here with me is a day of doubt that I will be able to point them to healing that their Heavenly Father has to offer them. I cry for them and because of them. It's a lot.

Don't judge. Don't pity. Don't encourage me and call me brave or courageous or strong. Just let me cry and Pray.