9 Months

In adoption terms, 9 months is not that long. In waiting for a child to join your family, it seems to be absolutely normal. In waiting for your heart to be fully broken, it's a lifetime.

We jumped into this adoption 9 months ago with naive notions about ourselves, about adoption, about God. We were fully submerged in expectation and paperwork and prayerful pursuit of our daughter from day one. It was not a gradual easing into the joy of a child, it was thrown in the deep end, all out, crazy love for the piece of our hearts we didn't even know was missing until we saw her sweet face. It was like we got a positive pregnancy test and decorated the nursery all in one weekend and then had another 9 months to await the arrival of our bundle of joy.

And now we will most likely never hear another word about her for the rest of our lives.

We are no longer the strong and stable people we believed ourselves to be. We are broken. Our hopes and dreams are dead and we don't even get to hold her one time to say goodbye. We cry way too easily, we hide out in our home hoping no one will notice our absence, we say inappropriate things when people ask us stupid questions. We smile and serve at church and come home and melt down. We are adrift in a storm.

Adoption is hard, ugly, messy business sometimes. No one really tells you this, and even if they do, you don't believe them. You see happy families around you in all their adoptive glory and have no box to fit people with broken hearts into. It's just beautiful, wonderful redemptive work. It's one of God's pictures, like marriage, and that automatically makes it amazing. But it is also the melding of broken lives together. Even when children join their forever families it is not sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows all day long. Just as marriage is harder than anyone could ever tell you, and soon to be married couples wouldn't listen anyway, adoption is harder than imaginable. And things break down. And adoptions sometimes fail. And there are more orphans in the world than anyone is capable of fathoming, so it seems absolutely unjust for adoptions to fail. A child needing a family, and a family needing a child, and yet bureaucracy, and culture, and sinful people get in the way of that perfect match.

And God is not in the business of making his people comfortable, happy, or fitting in with the people around them. God is in the business of conforming his people into the image of his Son. And sometimes (more often than not) God uses the hard, ugly, broken things of this world to break off our self-sufficiency, pride, and idolatry. He is not mean and vindictive. He is kind enough not to let us wallow in the slums of our ignorance and selfishness. He is working in our lives the good of sanctification by the heat and pressure of broken circumstances. He is holy God, the vestiges of my Adam-likeness are burned away in the heat of his glory. But burning hurts. It is difficult to cry out "my refuge, my fortress, my God, I trust you" while my entire self is a burning effigy of sin.

I spent 9 months waiting for my daughter to come home, but forgot often to pray that my heart would happily accept God's will. Now I struggle with bitterness. I spent 9 months being so productive because my home needed to be ready at any moment. Now I struggle with laziness. I spent 9 months sharing my heart with anyone who would listen. Now I have walled off my hurt so that no one will see how much I am broken by this. I spent 9 months caring about every girl who is being sold to meet the sick desires of sinful men. Now my daughter might be one of them. I spent 9 months thinking I have it all together, feeling so completely spiritual at my oblivious faith. Now I have almost nothing left.

Then out of nowhere this song wells up in my heart:

I am weak,
I am poor,
I am broken,
Lord, but I'm yours.
Hold me now!

What's my motivation?

Another week with Marla and friends in the lovely read-along of 7, or as I like to call it, "What's your motivation?" Everything I read in Month 6: Spending, was affirming, gut-kicking, and a reminder to my heart to focus on the heart of the matter. It's so easy to read the chapter and think that she's just talking about money, but truly, sweet Jen Hatmaker shoots straight to the heart of the gospel and what our lives can/should/need to look like in response. I am thankful for her constant reminders to be more like Jesus and less like "normal".

Even as much as I loved this chapter, I also am having a hard time seeing the immediate applicability of what I gained through reading. That's not true, I see it, but I don't really want to think about it, or apply it. Honestly, I prayed this morning a prayer that looks a lot like Psalm 13, among others. I am weary. This weekend we had what felt like the final conversation with our adoption agency about our daughter. Our hearts ache for the child who will never make it home. Agreeing that she is un-adoptable felt like an acquiescence to the truth we already knew rather than a decision we had to make. I sent out our final adoption update email, then took my dog to the vet to find out that he probably has cancer and needs surgery. This comes on the heels of finding out my body is more broken than I thought it was. And my husband's grandfather dying, and family drama surrounding that. And our youth minister leaving soon to pursue another ministry opportunity, which means the ministry is falling in our laps. And, and, and, and....

It's too much! I feel a lot less like Job saying "Though he slay me, yet will I trust him" and a lot more like "God why do you keep giving me breath?! Why won't you slay me?!"

But do I go to God to comfort my aching? No. I go to Starbucks, Target, Chick-fil-A, Talbots, JoAnns, Amazon and anywhere else I can get that temporary high of "owning" something. I feel so in control in my out of my control life when I can buy something all my own. I know that purchasing is a drug to me. Yet I struggle during times of wanting (emotionally, spiritually) with what is a want and what is a need, physically speaking.

I think I need new clothes, considering I'm still wearing the things that fit me 30-50 pounds ago. But when I go to the store and buy something I get a little sick at the thought of what better use of my money I could have come up with than a pair of pants that doesn't fall off. I want to buy a reasonably priced scooter to save us a ton of money on gas, but then I think about the added costs of a safety course, helmet, riding jacket, etc. and then I feel like it's just me trying to spend money to make myself feel better. And on and on it goes. I know I am in the middle of a life desert, and I know when in this kind of phase I am a purchasing self-soother, and all this knowledge just makes me suspicious of every thought and action. What is my motivation?

Am I saying in my heart the things Jen Hatmaker lists on Day 8 as justification?

• It's no big deal.
• I can afford this.
• I've worked hard for my money, so I can spend it how I want.
• I want this, back off.
• I deserve this.**
• Other people spend way more.*
• I still have money in the bank.
• What's the big deal?

( * Jen's excuse of choice. ** Danielle's excuse of choice followed by a tantrum about how hard everything is right now.)

Sometimes the "What's my motivation?" is self-condemnation. Sometimes it is the still small voice of the Holy Spirit reminding me that I am not to be conformed to this world. Rather I am to be transformed by the renewing of my mind. As I practice this transformation, like a newborn calf testing it's legs, I learn how to discern what is the perfect will of God.

I think it's time to re-read Romans again.

The other side of the I deserve it justification is giving. We give to the church. We give to church plants. We give to missionaries. We give to local outreaches. We give to friends who are adopting. We give and give and give. Why shouldn't I take what's left and do whatever I want? How easily I forget that it's all God's, not just the parts I feel led to give away. That he gives any to me to steward is out of his sheer kindness. It is not because I deserve to be able to live comfortably, it is so that I can be a broken clay vessel pouring out his goodness to others. This pouring out doesn't look like drops in the bucket here or there. It looks like walking another mile when only one is required. It is not only giving my extra coat away to someone in need but also giving the shirt off my back. It is the continual, repetitive laying down of my life, money, talents.

And this laying down should not ever be so that I can look like the Pharisees Jesus rebuked who prayed loudly in the street blocking the entrance to the temple, and helped those in need only when people were watching, and changed the meaning of the law to make their lives look better. Oh Lord forgive me for the times, more often than not, that this is what it looks like for me to love my neighbor. It looks great on the outside, but my heart is ugly.

Oh! to be like Thee, blessed Redeemer
This is my constant longing and prayer.
Gladly I'll forfeit all of earth's treasures,
Jesus, Thy perfect likeness to wear.

How I long for this simple hymn to be true in my heart!

The End

For those of you out there interested in our adoption journey but not on our email list, here is the final email.

Hello family and friends!

Thank you so much for your prayers and support through our adoption journey. It is with heavy hearts that we send this update, and it will probably be the last update we send. After months of prayer, consulting with our agency, and consulting with trusted friends who know a lot about adoption, we believe at this time that our daughter is not adoptable.

In our last official update we let you know that she had been asked to stay with her biological family as her mother is dying of cancer. We have not heard anything since then. Because we know she is with her family, our belief is that she will more than likely stay with her family. While we remain open to adopting her in the future if her situation changes, we have had to acknowledge that it is highly unlikely that we will ever hear anything again about our daughter.

Our hearts are broken at the loss of our daughter. We knew there were risks involved in pursuing this adoption, as there are in almost all adoptions, but we chose to love this girl. For us, she will always be ours in our hearts, and we will not cease to pray for her. We pray that she is safe, loved, and cared for. We pray for healing and reconciliation in her family. We pray most importantly that she will hear the gospel of Jesus Christ and come to believe in him for salvation, redemption, and spiritual adoption. Will you join us please in praying for this one precious life?

As for us, we don't know what our next step will be. We are hoping to spend some time pressing more into God, caring more for each other's hearts, and ministering always to "our kids" at church. Thank you all again for your partnerships in our journey.  Your thoughts, prayers, and kind words have been such an encouragement to us.

Love!

Danielle and JJ

This land was made for you and me

I have no power at my house as I write this. I’m using what battery power I have left on my laptop to write a blog post in hopes that some time today power will be restored and I will be able to post it. My assumption for why I have no power has to do with the fact that I live in the desert and it is snowing, IN APRIL! And everyone knows that desert dwellers panic when the roads turn ever so slightly white (or wet, or windy, or dirty) and in this panic tear down power lines with their SUVs that they think can handle anything. (Sweet lady doing your make-up, yelling at your kids, talking on your phone, and nervously driving too fast/slow: you need new tires on your people mover, and said people mover is top heavy. Please be safe.) I’m sure there are poor souls out there in the snow right now trying to restore power to my neighborhood, cursing the fact that it’s snowing IN APRIL, and shaking their heads at those idiot desert dwelling drivers.

The irony is not lost on me that I can’t post my blog post for the read along about the Waste chapter of 7 because I have no power at my house. How many times I have begged for a solar power system that can bail me out when everyone else is without the absolutely necessary energy that powers our TVs, computers, etc., etc., etc. Oh God, you’re so creative in your mocking of my idols! This chapter was another one for me of feeling confident going in and walking away with some serious heart conviction. Marla invited us to share our stories, and I jump at any opportunity to talk about myself, so let’s go!

I grew up going to Arlo Guthrie concerts with my dad, and singing heartily along when Arlo performed his daddy’s song, “This Land is Your Land” then coming home and consuming like it was my God-given right. In 5^th grade our school had a whole green initiative thing (way ahead of its time) in which we all were shown videos of landfills with animated characters telling us the horrors of greenhouse gasses. We had an end of year musical all about Reducing, Reusing, and Recycling in which all of the kids were encouraged to obtain Styrofoam containers to use as puppets. Oh the irony. The only thing we recycled in our house was aluminum cans because nothing else could be recycled within our county, and dad made a few bucks off of selling aluminum.

Fast forward 20+ years to our current life. I am the crazy lady digging through the trash (mine and my neighbors) looking for things misplaced. In the kitchen/pantry we have a trash can, a recycling bin, an aluminum can, a bag of CDs to be mailed to recycle, a bag of batteries to be taken somewhere, a bag of plastic that our city won’t recycle but I can take to Whole Food’s, a bag of plastic bags to be recycled, and a bag of paper bags to be reused as bags or packaging material. The glass recycling is in the shed, and boxes go straight out to the giant recycling bin that I keep asking the City to kindly make bigger or give me two of. Have I thought of reducing my waste? Not really: it looks smaller once it's parceled out in so many different ways. My husband is a mechanic, so our home garage is filled (and emptied regularly) with steel, aluminum, copper, and batteries that otherwise would have ended up in the dumpster at work. I have piles of old t-shirts waiting to be turned into yarn and knitted into rugs. Yes, I am that crazy earthy crunchy lady you would prefer not to have as a neighbor because I don’t spray for weeds or bugs, and often only water outside plants if I have water in my trash-can-turned-rain-barrel.

I am however not as conscientious about my food. Our first year in our house I had a garden. My dog ate the oregano, squash bugs destroyed my zucchini, and my husband refused to eat anything made with fresh tomatoes. Everything else I killed because I didn’t want to waste the water to make it grow. So after drying an entire yard-full of basil, and giving some pretty ugly tomatoes away I gave up on growing things in the desert. I buy organic food when it’s convenient. I buy local food almost never. Part of that is laziness, and part of that is for safety reasons. Around these parts everything local (restaurants, farmers markets, even beer) is tainted with green chile. The locals love it! I’m deathly allergic. There are times of year when I can’t leave my house because folks are roasting fresh crops on seemingly every street corner in hopes that they can send me to the hospital with anaphylaxis. More than once I have asked God why he placed us here of all places, and more than once he has answered me with a million reasons that don’t include green chile. For breakfast this morning I had rice cakes from California, cheese from Illinois, avocados and grapes from Chile, fair-trade coffee from who-knows-where, half and half from Colorado, and sugar from Hawaii. My belly sure does get around!

 And this is all me, not even taking into account the little four legged babies in our house. Part of me cringes when buying Venison & Rice dog food in 50 lb bags because one of my babies gets sick from anything containing lamb, beef, or corn. Don’t even get me started on the nasty feline things that existed in my husband’s life before I did! I could feed a lot of people with the money I spend on these 4 fur balls! But then I remember that every one of our babies was abused, neglected, thrown out in the desert to die, or found starving on the streets. So I give them their expensive food, cover them with blankies, and pray for humans who are suffering worse fates than my animals. Ugh! That’s just ugly heart stuff right there.

Finally is the vehicle situation. We have two cars, but probably could do with only one. We have toyed with this idea, my husband biking to work every once in a while, looking up bus schedules, dreaming of lower fuel costs in our budget, but it would be so hard to make this transition that we have both discouraged the other from doing more research. We have hand-me-down cars which have benefited us financially, but have left us with a bit of an eco-friendly conundrum. My husband drives a Miata, I don’t drive it because I drive only automatic transmission vehicles. I have no desire to learn, don’t tell me how easy it is, it just results in crying and fighting with my husband that I don’t wish to revisit. Anyway, he averages 30+ mpg and fills ups every couple weeks. It’s a good deal for us. I drive an F-150, and I love my big truck. There are parts of town I hide my face in shame while driving my honkin’ truck through, and I have been yelled at more than once in a parking lot by angry hippies. They get into their Pruis’ not thinking of the environmental impact the giant battery in their car has but yell at me for averaging 15+ mpg. By the way, I fill up my tank about once a month.

Why do I love my truck? Because it is the means to many ends. All that automotive waste I mentioned earlier could not be so easily recycled if I couldn’t take it 3/4 of a ton at a time to the scrap yard. And the money I get from recycling that junk, it goes straight into our adoption expenses account. If I didn’t have a big truck bed I couldn’t haul mounds of recycling away from our church. Apparently my fellow church folk want to recycle, but have no idea how to actually do it, so it all piles up creating fire hazards until I take it away. I can transport 5 teenagers and all of their junk before/after/during youth events and have opportunities to love these kids while telling them to stop screaming. I can help friends and family move and be hands and feet of Jesus as we jenga sofas and kitchen tables in what seemed like a big truck until they brought all their stuff out to the curb.

But again this can all be self-justifying works. I do this, this, and this, and that means Jesus loves me more. NOT! Is my motivation in self-justification, self-glory, self-waste-reduction? If so then it is all folly. Is my motivation stewardship, obedience, creation work? Then maybe I’m on the right path. This land was made (by God) for you and me (to enjoy, protect, rebuild, and work.) Dear Woody, I'm slightly sorry for the revision to your song.

Flashy Things and My Heart

Linking again with Marla for the read-along. This week, 7: Media. I walked into this chapter feeling so good about myself. I believe smug would be the appropriate word. Our house is QUIET, and I like it that way. We have a friend who lives with us off and on (she's a bit of a vagabond, but we love her) and the biggest shock to my system when she's with us is the constant noise. Between music, TV shows, talking, singing, etc. I have days when my sinful heart can't wait for her to leave for school or work.

We cancelled our cable almost 2 years ago for financial reasons and realized shortly after how good it was to not be plugged into TV, DVR, and the constant consumerism flashing at us in 2 minute or less chunks. We almost never watch live TV, and have recently started taking family walks every night before plugging into something from Netflix. My husband's job is physically and mentally taxing, so sometimes he needs to just sit and stare at what I affectionately call "flashy things." My thorn in the flesh causes good days and bad days: I have super productive days when my house is super clean by the end, and days when the most productive thing I do is power through half a season of a TV show (thank you, Netfilx Instant!) Neither of us have smart phones, and the only reason we have unlimited texting is because our teenagers only communicate with 160 characters or less. Yep, I was smug coming into this chapter. Jen Hatmaker (and the Holy Spirit) can't touch me, I've got every excuse covered, I can power through without even blinking.

But as I read this book aloud in the car while my sweetie was driving us home from his grandfather's funeral I got a lot more than I expected from this chapter. Yes we read aloud to each other. We get that we're weird, there's no need to point it out. We are more than occasionally old fashioned 30 year old's and we're ok with that.

It was all fun and games, laughing it up at that crazy Hatmaker family until I got to Day 15. Jen starts talking to her former self in an encouraging torrent of "this is who you are, but this is is who you are becoming" and "don't lose heart" and "focus on the Kingdom." Oh my heart needed that. But most of all my heart needed to hear this:

Self-hatred is not appropriate when God reveals a new angle. That is not the way of Christ, who abolished condemnation under the banner of grace. The wise responder humbly receives truth, allows it to supersede the version he or she is holding, and adjusts. This progression is not cause for shame but gratitude; thankful God never leaves us where we are but draws us into a richer faith. ...I don't even know what I don't know. - p. 109

I had a very rebellious few years after I graduated from high school and before I met my husband. By a few I mean almost a decade of doing everything possible to run as far away from all that I knew to be true. I put myself in so many dangerous and foolish situations that I laid in bed last night crying, thanking God that he preserved my life. He very much brought me up from the pit and redeemed my life from destruction. I often look back at those years with shame and heartache and the things I lost, the mistakes I made, the riches I squandered chasing after everything that is temporary and vain. I read Ecclesiastes and feel sometimes like maybe I could have written it, I grasped at the wind!

BUT GOD!

God promised me, his child, that there is only grace in Christ. It is no longer me who lives my life, but Christ in me. The only thing sweeter than that is death. I am not my own, I was bought with the price of Jesus' blood. Propitiation has been made for all of my wanderings and failings. All of those old things have passed away, my LIFE has been made new.

Thank you Lord for using my sister Jen to remind me of the truth of the gospel in my life.

So I keep reading, and Day 26 is another needed kick in the head.

Back story: When my husband and I have morning worship together we have a time when we ask each other "How's your heart?" We often forget to ask this question of each other, so we for now are forcing it for the sake of it becoming habit in our relationship, and for it to become natural worship to God to care for each other. It helps us love each other better, and pray for each other better, and sometimes it's just good to know that another human being knows where our heart is at day to day. The particular day we read 7 together we had a long "How's your heart?" time because we were in the car for 7 hours with nothing to do but talk to each other or listen to the radio. Our hearts are in about the same place for once. There is a lot of tension in our lives, many things floating in the air without answers and we are trying to figure out which thing is what God wants for us. My poor husband has the hard job of leading our family right now in following Christ when there is just enough light for half a step in the direction we're supposed to go. It's just plain hard and exhausting right now.

Enter Day 26. I could quote the ENTIRE day because I cried while reading it to my husband. But I won't. I'll just quote the part that brought hopeful tears:

the story of God's people comprises a billion little moments when an average believer pressed on, carried through, stepped up. In the quantity of ordinary obedience, the kingdom truly advances.

I was ready to feel so self-justified as I read this chapter. Instead I was reminded over and over that I am only Christ-justified.