.God Writes THE BEST Stories.

I wasn't going to write, because I have already been gushing all over facebook all day long. I am obnoxious like that. But I couldn't stay away from here either. The place where so much of this story has tumbled out of my heart. The space where I shared my hopes, dreams, and prayers with you all. I feel like shouting to the world this story, and what God did. This morning in a little courtroom in NY state, with some of the people who love us best, our family made history, and God did what we were told over and over and over could never happen. He did what we had been told for three years was impossible. He did what has never been done before in the United States. He pulled out all of the stops, and showed His power in a way that will leave me breathless for the rest of my life. Today Habi became our legal, official son through the miracle (and it truly was that) of adoption.

There are so many details that we have hidden away to protect our Habi. While what we have shared of this story is miraculous enough, all of the other little details added in, the huge hurdles that God had to break down to get us to this point, the number of doors He had to crash open that had been tightly shut, it is all more than I can even comprehend. I know that for the past three years we have stood inside of a move of God, and it was HUGE, supernatural, and mind-boggling. As I sit here in the quiet, my mind flipping through all of the events that have taken place to get here, it doesn't seem real. Everything that had to happen was so perfectly timed out and orchestrated by a loving, creative, Author. There is no way that we could have scripted this. I told Jim that it feels as if we are in a movie. And it does, because this just does not happen in real life. BUT it did happen!

The most powerful lesson that I have learned in all of this, and what I hope people see when they hear of this is that God writes the best stories. Shortly before we decided to adopt from Ethiopia, God began to work in our hearts and lives in a brand new way. A more real way, but a way in which I had to intentionally surrender the pen to Him, and allow Him to write my story. It wasn't easy for me to give up the sense of control that comforted me. None of it has been easy - not one paragraph, one page, one chapter. I haven't always done it right. I have faltered along the way, and I have questioned the story so many times. Sometimes I have not appreciated His plot line, and I have thought that I could have written it better. But God in His mercy allowed me just enough strength to not yank the pen back, and God kept scratching out this story over my life. While I do believe that if I had held on to the pen, my story would have been easier, I also know that it would not have been nearly as beautiful. I would have under-written my story. The beauty needed to be sharpened by the pain that can only come with surrender. He is strong in our weakness, and that is why I believe he chose my family for this story, because we are weak and ordinary.

Today is a huge 'ta da' life-changing moment in our story. A chapter closed with a big reveal - a movie-style ending. But what you need to know is that there has been a lot of middle to this story, and that today is not the whole story. What I want you to know is that God wants to write your story, too. Perhaps you have not yet handed Him the pen, and I want to encourage you to give it a try. Or perhaps you have, but you are inside the middle, and it is hard and lonely and painful, and it feels like it must be the end. But friend, it's not the end. He is still writing your story. He hasn't left you and closed the manuscript. The pen is still hovered over you, and He is still writing. The hard times, the moments when God is silent, the painful pages that seem to suck the life from you, they all have a purpose in your story. Don't read my ending of this chapter of my story and be discouraged thinking that God only writes stories like this for some people. The story God has for you is unique and beautiful and YOURS. Sometimes God is just writing further into the story than you have read. Be patient, wait with hope and expectation, because God writes the best stories. Trust the Author of your story. What He is writing is better than you can ever imagine.

Today this chapter in my story came to a beautiful close, but tomorrow a new chapter looms before me blank and white and ready for His pen. I am ready for the story to continue.

Here we are just after the judge declared the adoption to be final. This is our son Habtamu (his given name in Ethiopia which means "rich") Theo (which comes from the Greek word theophany which means "in the image of God" - my name Tiffany is also from this same Greek word) Byron (a family name that has been passed down through generations - all of our sons have this name).

.A Moment.

I am sitting here pecking out letters that race across my screen, and I know I should be packing instead. Because in just 17 (almost 16 now) days our family boards a plane and embarks on a new journey in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia serving street children. I am giddy about that and about all that God is inviting us into, but this moment, right now, I am even more giddy about the absolute miracle that is about to unfold tomorrow.

It was January 20, 2011, when I first laid eyes on him, and in the 1,335 days and 32,044 hours between that moment and tomorrow I have not stopped dreaming of and fighting for this very day.  It was a moment. Just one minuscule, unnoticeable to passers-by, moment, and my life and its path were forever changed. I have said it all here a thousand times a thousand different ways, but the story doesn't get old. How could it? Out of the almost 8 billion people that live in this world, out of all the millions of street boys - a woman born into luxury and comfort and a boy born into squalor and pain, an ocean apart, collided in what could only have been a God-ordained moment. And it really was only that - a moment. A few words exchanged, a few tears, a beaded bracelet and some granola bars. But that was all it took for our hearts to become entwined.

I have repeated it so many times, and it sounds crazy - even still - but I knew the moment our eyes held each others that God was up to something. I knew this child was destined to be my son, and I his mama. There were so many other boys that day. I had been tugged on, hugged, and begged from, but in that moment, I only had eyes for one.  I knew he was mine when his grubby, little hand thrust the beaded bracelet through our van window, because my heart could not contain the moment. I could not fathom another breath without knowing that this child was safe and secure, wanted and loved. Every single day since then, I have expended myself to be sure that he knows this with every fiber of his being. In that van that day, a new part of me was born, a fighter, a part of me that I did not know I possessed. Even then courage took root, and I turned to our friend, Job, and asked what was the likely hood of me adopting a street boy - that boy. He smiled at me, amused at my ignorance and naivety, and said "Oh, Tiffany, that is impossible."  And when I typically would have just backed-down, as was my nature, a fighter emerged. I nodded, and prayed, and dreamed big, and I ignored the impossible.

I ignored the impossible because I have a God who specializes in the impossible. If ever I doubt this, all I have to do is look back over these past three years and remember the way that God has smashed through the impossibles and obliterated the no's. God taught me how to stand up and to fight for justice in this journey, but the truth is that He didn't need me to do anything. He could have done this without me. All of the glory is His. The only thing I did was step into His invitation, and even in that I am pretty certain He dragged me in.

.

The day I met Habi.

Tomorrow, a miracle happens. Tomorrow, what so many people told us was impossible happens. Tomorrow that moment - the one that took place on the dusty street of Addis, comes full-circle. Tomorrow, what we were told would never happen is happening, our family stands before a judge, and my sweet, precious boy, the one that is so connected to my heart in a way that could only be supernatural, becomes my legal SON. 

Our God still preforms miracles, He is the exact same God that made the sun stand still for Joshua, and He still moves mountains to do the impossible. Tomorrow He is moving that mountain for us. This has not been an easy journey, for anyone involved. It has not been without tears and fear and heart-ache, but every single step along the way has been worth it. I would do it all over again in a heart beat.

In just a moment that boy will become mine.

[If you are new here, and don't know this story, click here.]

.Habi's Thoughts on Moving to Ethiopia.

The number one question that Jim and I have received upon people hearing our news about moving to Ethiopia for missions has been, what does Habi think about it? So, I thought I would let him share here some of his thoughts. I am so proud of this boy and the maturity and love for Jesus that He continues to display. God really has done a big work in his heart and his life this year, and it has been such a blessing to be part of his story and to witness the changes and growth.

This is what Habi has to say:

My name is Habi, my real name is Habtamu. I was born in ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPA.

I feel absolutely amazing about what GOD is doing in our family. I know that it’ll be hard for me to go back there, but I mean GOD wants us there. I JUST have to encourage my family, you know? When I needed help, they were there for me, when I needed food they were there for me, and now they have this opportunity. I have to help, you know? They need me, you know? I’ll have to say, I’m here for you guys, what can I do? I know that it’ll be totally different when I go back to ET with food, friends, and everything will be different, but they really want me there with them. They said to me this, Habi we want to go to Ethiopia to live, we feel like that is our home – Ethiopia not here. We want to be able to help your friends -street kid’s  -who need our help.

 I was like man, alright let’s do this! Although, I am nervous too, because I’m going back to my home town in ET.

I’m really happy that I have a chance to help street kids. I am excited to be able to teach them about Christ, you know? I can share what Christ did in my life, and I want to be able to tell them what GOD has for them. I want them to trust Him, and to be able follow Him. Showing them Who is Christ, and what He Has for them. AND GOD wants me to go back there too. Because, He showed me what being in a family is like, and how I need to teach my friends and say, you have to believe in Christ, you have to trust Him, and if you can trust Him he will never let you down.

.He did It.

It was just the three of us, late last night. Jim and I snuggled on the couch, and Habi reclined in a chair. We were relaxing and enjoying being together. The finish line was so close that we could taste it. Today Habi woke up for his last day of his first year in an American school. And last night as Jim and I were reiterating just how proud we were of the work he had put in this year, he looked at us shyly beneath those heavy lashes and said, this is the first school year I have ever finished  - not just in America. He had been hinting about that for a few weeks (prior to this, we had understood that he had completed three years of an education in Ethiopia), but came out and told us last night that he had never fully completed one. I am blown away by this child, who never completed even one year of school prior to coming here, who didn't have the rhythm of attending school, or an education background - no study skills, no learning hooks to hang all of this new information on (he had to develop them all from scratch this year), just a few days here and there of scattered education in Ethiopia, that he managed to squeeze in between working to earn money to buy food in order to literally survive. He was never taught English. Ever. He taught himself to speak it, by listening to foreigners and well educated people in Ethiopia. He somehow got a hold of the English alphabet and taught himself how to write the letters - figuring out the strokes painstakingly on his own. The fact that he does not have an education background does not diminish his brilliance, it illuminates it. He came to America, and was plopped into an accelerated private school in the seventh grade - having never completed one year of school before. How frightening this should have been.

But he did it with grace and courage. I really do not know a braver teenage boy than Habi.

As an adult, I cannot imagine that I would have done nearly as well if I were in his position. This year has not  been easy. It has been miraculous, and beautiful, and emotional, but not easy. Redemption never is. God provided the perfect school for Habi to attend that would help meet his needs. It is small, close-knit, non-legalistic, and the staff went above and beyond to help Habi and to help us help Habi. I am sure this is the first time that the school had a student with the background that Habi came from, but they did not shy away from the challenge and both staff and students embraced him. Habi grew confident in this environment, and I believe for the first time he felt and knew love from so many sides. This was as valuable as the academics.

There were hours and hours of homework this year. There were tears, there was determination, there was arguments and disagreements, there was perseverance and there was discouragement. Every single person inside our family sacrificed to make this happen. When we thought we could not handle one more algebraic equation, or history date, or science definition, when we felt strangled by the literature, by the monotonous phonics work, we linked arms and did it together. And one assignment after another piled up into an entire school year, and in the midst of traveling 3 plus hours a day, Jamesy's therapies, attaching as a family, medical crises, grief for a country and loved ones an ocean away, the Spirit pushing us to move on, in the midst of the exhaustion and lies that Satan loves to feed children from hard places, in the midst of the biggest transition in all of our lives, the calendar has fallen through months and we have made it to the finish line.

And it was worth it to see Habi's beaming face this morning, to know the accomplishment he feels in having a full school year under his belt. I cannot make people understand what this year has been like, and it is not my job, to. I am learning to brush off the criticism and the emails and messages that accuse me of giving Habi more attention than my other three children. The snide remarks about how many photos took up my facebook and blog of Habi and the lacking of photos of the other three. What I cannot make people understand who have never dealt with it, is how much lost time we have to make up for, how empty his love bucket was when he came to us, how insecure, lonely, and needy our son was. How critical this first year was. How two of my children were born into a home filled with love, words of affirmation, cuddles and daily their little love buckets are filled (and were still being filled this year), and one child two years of the same, and is finally starting to understand the permanence of our love. But Habi, came to us empty, so empty in so many ways, and while his story is sacred for him so I type carefully here, he NEEDED every single time his mama or daddy bragged about him on facebook, he needed the adoration, the public display of love, the photos, the screaming and cheering from the sidelines, the over-the-top excitement for every single first. He needed it and he still needs it, and I am done apologizing or feeling guilty. Because the result and the redemption that is happening is because God guided us to love him up BIG - in outrageous ways this year. I regret none of it.

 He is not the same child that we met two years ago. He is not the same child that stepped onto American soil last July. And he is not the same child who bravely entered seventh grade this September. God, truly, has changed his life......and our life in the process.

You did it, my sweet, beautiful, brave boy! Keep following Jesus, for He is so very, very near. He always was, Baby. When you felt the loneliest, He was right there. And He is here now, and so are we. I love you. To Ethiopia and back.

.The Truth Is.

It plagues me.

I've never talked about this here - or anywhere, and I never have allowed myself to realize how much this haunts me - until today. I'm going there, but I am not yet sure if I can make myself publish this.

I dream about it, waking up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, and my stomach queasy. Fear hangs over me, and I hate it. It dampens the joy a bit, and it hovers mockingly. I know the fear is not from God. I wish that  fear would just leave my life forever. Its grip is cruel and ridiculous. I am frustrated that I am still dealing with this old, horrible issue. The same issue I have battled my entire life.

I fear this will all end, and he will be sent back. To type that just adds to the fear, to admit "out loud" the possibility that this really could come to an abrupt and ugly halt. And although sometimes my fears are irrational, this one is wrapped up in reality. I know that my God is bigger, and I know and marvel over all that God did to join our family together. But the fear snakes around my heart and hisses the fact that his visa expires this July, and that really, we have no ties to him. That's only a little over three months away. I know the truth that he can stay on an expired visa, but just the thought of an expired visa makes my heart race a little faster.

The truth is, he's not mine.

As much as I feel like he is, as much as I know in my heart that he is my son, and that there is no difference with the way I love him, then if I had carried him nine months and birthed him; I also realize that beyond that, I have no real, legal rights to him as my son. And just being completely transparent, it is a scary place to be. I have lost my heart completely to this child. I am trying to savor every single moment, with the knowing that it could be taken away. It makes me physically sick to understand what that means - for him - for us.

My camera documents everything, my eyes and heart have been opened to anything that we can celebrate and cherish and applaud. I have written down memories upon memories, and I have tucked so many of our conversations into my heart. These past, almost eight months, I have poured my life out into all four of my children, but especially into him, because if something happens, if this all comes to a crashing, horrific ending, I don't ever, ever want him to question whether he was loved, wanted, and cherished.

The truth is, none of these children are mine, and for a person with chronic control issues, that's a tough pill to swallow. I know that any of the four could succumb to an illness or a horrible accident at any time. I know the truth that they are all God's, and that He is just letting me steward the responsibility of raising them in the here and now. Tomorrow is not promised. But I don't sit in fear over the other three. It's just the one.

I am not just sitting here wallowing in fear, though; we are fighting to make this permanent. Most days that knowledge let's me push back the fear. But today it's choking me. I just want to cocoon my family away from the world, away from the questions as to why we chose this, and the accusations about why we post on facebook so much about Habi, and why we make such a big deal about Habi, well, I guess this is an authentic, painful peak into the why. I guess this is one of the reasons why we are told not to judge people, because so many times we do not have all of the facts. Perhaps if you were in my shoes, with the reality that you could lose your child, you would do something differently. I hope that I would accept that.

There is nothing beautiful or glamorous about this post. It's not very thought-out or well-written, and I cannot wrap it up into a sweet, little spiritual conclusion that ends in a but it's all going to be alright. We have no guarantee that this will end the way we are fighting for it to end. What I can do, is hug that big boy extra tightly when he comes home tonight, and memorize the way he smells, and the sound of his laugh, the way his hair curls against his ears, and how his eyes light up when Jamesy says a word, and the kindness that radiates from him when he is helping Scotty, and the spunky way that he picks on Cadi, and then moments later wraps her in his arms and tells her what a good sister she is. I can celebrate his 100% on his vocabulary tests which he worked so hard on studying for, and I can notice the way he watches his dad, then emulates him, and beams when his dad calls the man out in him. For today that is what I can do. I cannot do anything to be certain that this will last, or that he is here to stay, but I can be present in the here and now. I can and I will do that.

And for today, that will have to be enough.

.I Don't Want to Forget.

We had been home probably just around 24 hours. It came after his first night in his very own bed, with his own blankets and clean sheets, inside his own bedroom. His first 24 hours inside a home with his family. How his mind must have been swimming. I had been watching as his tired eyes drank everything in, and I could almost see the way he was trying to put it all together in his head and his heart. I wanted to ask questions, but he wasn't ready, so I stayed quiet and watched. I watched as he interacted with his little sister and little brothers. He was tender and loving, and they were all so smitten with each other right away - especially Scotty. It had always been Scotty. From the first family photo that Habi saw of us, he was mesmerized with Scotty. And Scotty was Habi's most fervent prayer warrior for the year and a half that we prayed Habi home. Scotty believed God would do this, and he never forgot Habi in his prayers. The moment Scotty would hear our Skype ring in the middle of the day, knowing his brother in Ethiopia would be on the other end, he would come running, "Hoptonnu" he would screech in his sweet little voice or "Havvvvviii". Their bond was and is precious - nothing short of God-weaved.

I watched him at the table, surrounded on all sides by family. He was fearful of the American food, but he tried it timidly. Mostly, though, he watched us. And I watched him watch us. He marveled at the way we joined hands, and I could tell he was really listening as Jim prayed thanksgiving over our meals and our family. He watched as Jim leaned over and cut up Jamesy's food, and as I reminded Cadi to use a napkin, or Scotty to sit on his bottom. He was trying to learn this - to learn what it meant to live like a family. My heart soared as he watched, and Jim and I would glance at each other in disbelief that this child, who we met on the street, was now sitting on our dining room chair and part of our family. (Honestly, our gaze still finds each other as we marvel over God's goodness. I hope it never gets old - the way God brought each of our children into our family.)

After we put three littles to bed that night, we sat on our couch with him. Jim and I awkwardly in this new role of parenting a teenager (or almost teenager, his age is a big question mark), decided that it would be a good time to share our house rules and consequences with him. In Ethiopia we had also had a talk, but that one was more about making sure he understood what living inside our family meant. We tried to help him to understand that he would be transferring submission to our authority, after so many years of being in charge of himself, etc. That in itself is a big decision for a kid, and honestly, he has done it with so much grace -grace beyond his years- he is doing so well in transitioning into our family.

Jim went over our few family rules and consequences (explaining what consequences even were), and he tied it into the gospel. It was one of our first moments really parenting Habi. My heart expanded as I watched Jim gently father this child. And while the moment was sweet, and it was encouraging to see the responsiveness that Habi had to our rules and our expectation for family living, that is not what stands out to me the most. It wasn't even the smile that lit clear to his eyes, as it was evident that this is what he desired - to be parented by a mommy and daddy who love him and cherish him and see the amazing gift he is. Instead it was what he said after our conversation was over, and we were snuggled in on the couch. We were all growing sleepy from jat-lag and emotional exhaustion at all that had transpired, and through the exhaustion his soft lilting voice broke the silence.

I don't want to forget. Please, help me not to forget.

Jim and I looked at each other as the words tumbled out of our sweet boy's lips. He went on to say that he did not want to forget where he came from and what God had done for him in bringing him out of street life after so many years and into a family. He did not want to grow up to be a rich American man and forget all that he had left behind in Addis. He did not want to grow so comfortable and used to American life that the life he left behind no longer mattered to him. He wanted to remember where he came from.

I remember my heart beating faster and faster as I listened to the words just tumble from his heart. Here sat this little boy, in a strange country, with virtual strangers, and out of his heart came wisdom of a man. I would soon learn that this was not the last time that we would be blessed and challenged with his wisdom.

Habi went on to tell a story of a man from Ethiopia whom he deeply respected. This man was from the Korah dump. He had lived there for years, and then God brought him out of the dump and to America. I cannot remember if it was for an education, but I am guessing it was. The man was in America for several years, but then went back to Ethiopia. Habi said that instead of the man going back in all of his fine, American clothing and renting a nice place to live, he came home - to Korah. He stepped back into his literal rags and his life living in the dump of Korah, because he had not forgotten where he came from, and he remembered who he left behind, and he wanted to impact the people he loved.

I listened to this and tears cascaded over my cheeks and my Mommy heart broke in two. I could not even envision Habi staying here for years and then stepping back into his street life, but I am not the author of his life story. I am simply a small character in it, perhaps just a stepping stone, and as fiercely as I love this boy as my son, just like with all of my children, I have to hold him loosely, remembering he is first and best God's - not mine.

There are a lot of parallels I could draw from this moment we had with Habi, about remembering spiritually what God brought us from, about not forgetting the ones left behind - the people who still need to hear and receive the love of Jesus. However, I am just going to leave this alone and share this much. I'm still drawing my own parallels and conclusions. I am still learning and growing from this moment as it dances in my head and my heart. Daily my children are teaching me and pushing me to the feet of Jesus.

This was simply a moment that needed to be captured and scratched down, because I don't want to forget.

.Imperfectly Perfect.

The memories are coming so fast and furious that I have little time to keep up, let alone record them. The past 48 days have been the best, hardest, most beautiful, ugliest days of my life. With four children ages two to fifteen (or 13 or 11 or 14 - however old he really is!) life is full. It is fuller and dearer than it has ever been. I have posted happy, beautiful photos and statuses of thanksgiving on facebook, and God has been so good as He weaves our family together in a supernatural way that only He is capable of.



But don't let the photos fool you.

We are not a perfect family. A little bit ago our family was accused of just that - being perfect and self-righteous- mainly because of the things we post on facebook - the happy photos of our new family of six and passionate posts about caring for orphans, the poor, and the least of these. I post the beautiful, because I need to reflect on the beautiful gifts and be thankful. I need to find the beautiful inside what is sometimes a mess in the here and now. It's the good and the beautiful that I want to remember and dwell on. I believe that pleases Jesus.

But I also believe in transparency. And it's not all beautiful. Kingdom work never is. It is always hard and messy and ugly at times. And the same is true for our family - we didn't get a free pass. We are not perfect. We are not more spiritual. We are in the trenches, and sometimes even though the big picture is so beautiful that it takes my breath away, the minute details are so overwhelming and draining. And while I do not share a lot of the ugly on facebook, mostly to protect my family, I do have a group of women that I do share a lot of the mess with. Today I share a little here with you, because I am weary of pretending.

We are exhausted.

God led us into this beautiful story. He changed the plot drastically on us in 2010 when we left camping ministry and began church ministry. Then in 2011 He added another plot twist when we adopted our sweet son with some severe special needs. Now in 2012 the plot is twisting again as we brought our teenage boy home and continue to question what God has for our family in the future. That is a lot of change in not a lot of time, and it is easy to feel unanchored - especially for this fearful, control-freak of a girl. But God is with us, He continues to hold our hand and write His beautiful love story over us, intertwining it with His ultimate love story. Jesus is inside the chaos with us. He remains the anchor and the constant that has been externally lacking for the past three years in our life.

I love adoption. It is the most beautifully accurate portrait of redemption that I have ever experienced. (And for all intents and purposes we put Habi into the adoption category. He is 100% our son.) But the very nature of redemption tells us that something was so broken, so destroyed, abused, and neglected, that it needed to be redeemed, recovered, rescued - put back together. Adoption is essentially the process of healing. Healing hurts and is hard. It is costly. Thankfully we follow a Jesus that heals, restores, and redeems. So we just allow Him to use us to do His work. It's not about our family, and what we have done or can do. It's all about Jesus. If it were about our family, or up to our family, things would look a lot different.

We are in the intentional, hard phase of parenting. And if you are a parent, I am guessing many of you are as well. We are parenting four children with a vast array of needs. We are no different from your family - just some of the needs inside our home manifest differently than the needs inside of your home. There was a time over the past year, when I would lay in bed at night and wrestle with God over bringing Habi home. The enemy is good at bringing up fears in the quiet and dark of night. He gave me these crazy thoughts that our family and our home did have to be perfect - especially before bringing a teenager home. A baby is one thing, but a teenager can see inconsistencies and can communicate and has different needs - needs that I thought would be better fulfilled if we had it altogether and were somehow perfect. But perfect doesn't exist in any home and certainly not in ours. Habi didn't need perfect. He needed a family. He needs our imperfect, messy family. We were made for him and he for us. God knew that we needed each other to ultimately push us deeper into His arms.

In the past 48 days we have had some of the most priceless, beautiful moments as a family, and we have had some of the messiest moments as well. We are exhausted. Jim and I have lost our cool - with each other and with each of our children. We have raised our voices and said things we had to go back later and ask forgiveness for. There are days when dishes pile up in the sink faster than I care to keep up with. I do not think the laundry has been completely caught up since coming home. Okay, let's be real - I am not sure when the last time laundry was completely caught up! My floors need to be mopped. My email and facebook inbox are overflowing, and I cannot even begin to think about replying to people. Meal times are stressful, and we have succumbed to fast food. A lot. Because it is easier than developing a picky palate. And we were never fast-food people before. The phone ringing stresses me out. We have all cried a lot. The three littles just might have a bedroom floor if the clothes and toys on top of it ever actually found their rightful place. I've skipped a few showers. And a few meals. I've replaced meals with a Hershey chocolate bar eaten inside my locked bedroom. Sometimes I take an extra shower just to have ten minutes alone to cry or pray. Everyday someone doesn't get enough of me. I fall into bed exhausted, praying that God would fill in the holes, because I can't.

I've messed up. Today I will mess up. Tomorrow I will mess up. I will always mess up. But it's okay. His grace is enough. His grace is here knitting us together. Knitting this mess into a masterpiece.  We don't have it altogether. We never will.

But we are a family. We love each other. We love Jesus. We value what He values.

And this is all so worth it.

While the masterpiece is beautiful, the brush strokes are painful. But I honestly would not change a single thing.

Our family is imperfectly perfect.* And I wouldn't have it any other way.


*Thank you Habi for introducing me to Justin Beiber so that I could use this line.

I pray someday our children will be grown and will have forgotten the messy floors, the way I lost my cool as I tried to get four kids out the door at 6 AM, the piles of dirty laundry. I pray instead that they remember the love inside of this family for them - that they know down to the bottom of their toes that they are cherished and wanted - by us and by Jesus. His love is perfect, and I pray it fills in all of our imperfect holes. Someday I hope my children walk out into this big world, confident in who God created them to be, confident in the love of their family and Jesus, and most of all redeemed and healed and whole because of the work of Jesus Christ inside of this messy, imperfect family.

.From the Beginning.

I wanted a place to easily access the story from the beginning with our Habi. This is mostly for me, but I also know that I have gained a few new readers who are interested. So here are the posts, that I could quickly locate, in order from the beginning.

My Answered Prayer

I Dreamed of Africa

Always On My Mind

God is Up to Something

The {other} Boy

Our Day with Habi

My Habtamu

I Want to Know

My Heart

Day 17 of 7

A Home for Habi

Days 19 & 20 of 7

Day 21 of 7

Day 22 of 7

Day 25 of 7

Days 29 & 30 of 7

So Much to Do

Abundantly More

Habi took up a lot of space on my blog the last year and a half, and even more space in my heart and mind. I am so, so thankful for his precious life and that I was chosen to be his mom!

.Abundantly More.

I'm at a loss for words, and I am completely okay with that. It's hard to explain being inside a move of God. It's supernatural, and glorious, and ridiculous, and impossible.

But the impossible happened for us, and Habi, my sweet, sought-after, prayed for, son, is safely tucked into our family - in our HOME! God blessed us with that student visa. I don't need an adoption decree from a court, never did, to know that Habi is forever and always fully my SON.

And he is home. Safe.

There are so many details that I want to share. Little ones like how as our plane caught the first sight of Addis I burst into tears and ugly sobs and probably scared my seat buddy Tracy to death. To be that close to that city that held my son, the city that gave me two of my sons, again is beyond explanation. It took the breath right out of me. Details like how my heart thumped out of my chest as I waited to get my first glimpse of Habi in a year and a half. And how shocked I was to see how healthy and grown-up he looked - so, so different from the scared, hungry little boy that stole my heart. I want to tell you how his face broke out in the widest grin and that smile, that one that could stop the world in its tracks, twisted my heart again when he saw us, and then how he dipped his head and averted his eyes and allowed shyness and emotion to take over. I want to tell you what it was like to look over in the van and to see my fifteen year old's head buried in the lap of his daddy, a daddy whose shoulders shook with happy sobs.

I want to tell you what it was like to worship side-by-side our son for the first time, or what it was like to walk the streets he called home with him. I want to tell you about his laugh and how it fills up a house, and how loud and funny he can be right on the heals of quiet, intuitive, wisdom. Or how his smile lights up a room and how clueless he is to his charm and charisma. I want to write about the visa appointment and our apprehension - about the miracle that really took place that day because of prayers covering us across the ocean - and how close we thought we were to him being denied the visa. Or how after hearing the beautiful words "Habtamu, I am granting you a visa", we clung to each other and sobbed to the bewilderment and amusement of the security guards. Or how we celebrated with Kaldi's coffee and then later cake with our team, and how the whole day the three of us walked around on clouds and in disbelief that this was really happening.

I cannot describe it all, though, there is too much, and too much is sacred. It is ours. The whispered conversations of a past that I cannot pretend to ever empathize with. The salty mingled tears. The rejoicing and heart-exploding gratitude to the God that orchestrated this story from the beginning of time. The knowledge that God supernaturally knit us together as a family. There is just so much. So much grace. So much goodness. Abundantly more than I ever dreamed.

God moved mountains, and I believe it was largely a result of your prayers.



Tonight I am marveling that I sit here concerned for my teenage boy with very normal concerns - like how will he do in school, will he make friends, and how can I parent him the way that God wants me to? Such a change from a few short months ago when my concerns were, will Habi survive another night on the street? Where is he going to find his next meal? How do we keep him in a pair of decent shoes without them getting stolen right off his feet while he sleeps? How do we help him if he gets very sick?

Oh, the weight that has been lifted off of my heart!

God has written a story over me so abundantly more beautiful than anything I could have dreamed or imagined.

Habi is home. HOME. Our family is blessedly whole!



(Thank you JO for our first family of 6 photo!)

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us. Ephesians 3:20

.Thank You.

Thank you for standing behind us and entering Habi's story with us. We are so excited about what God is about to do, and we are thanking Him in advance.

Here is one more chance to get involved!

I am leaving on a jet-plane - headed for the airport in 2.5 hours! My next post should be from Ethiopia!

.So Much to Do.

We board a plane to Ethiopia in just 10 days, and there is so much to do. Everywhere I look there is another project to do, another suitcase to pack, another item to check off the list, another child to hug and kiss and hold in hopes that the extra loving will last until we are home and united under one roof again. On top of that I am finishing up a bedroom for our teenage son who may or may not come home and answering the bazillion of questions my littles have about their big brother Habi.

Somehow it will all get done. Or else it won't. But it will be okay.

I am eager to serve in Ethiopia for 11 days. I cannot wait to see what God has to teach me and to show me, and how He plans to grow our entire team on this trip. My husband has been given the gift of a lifetime to be able to preach in the city dump of Korah to the lepers and AIDS community that live there. My heart is full to even think that God would answer his prayer in this way. And of course I am anticipating Habi's embassy appointment on July 2. In preparing for that day, my mind has been drifting back to our first trip to Ethiopia in January 2011. It was the trip that we took to meet our son, Jamesy, and stand before a judge in court promising to parent him, love him, protect and cherish him. And now, a year and a half later, I am promising to do the same for a child whom has waited much longer than 15 months for a family - his wait has been 15 years. In January of 2011 I didn't know what God was going to do when he softened my heart towards a little boy on the streets of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. I didn't know that, even a year and a half ago, He was beginning to weave our family together in a strange and remarkable way. When Jim and I said "yes" to adoption in the Spring of 2010 we did not realize that that would be God's way to begin opening our hearts to so much more than "a healthy infant as young as possible" as we first requested and boxed God in with our adoption.

I am walking through my days overwhelmed with all kinds of emotions. There are moments of fear as I wonder what we are truly doing, and then moments of excitement as I anticipate the future God is writing for our family. There are moments of sadness as I realize that some of these carefree days with just three littles underfoot may be coming to an end. Things will be different with a teenage boy in our home, and change, as wonderful and sought after as this change is, always battles my insecurities. Today I battled fear, and I know that fear does not come from God. I sought counsel from a wise friend, I meditated on Truth in God's Word, and I blasted praise music as I cleaned and folded laundry. Slowly and surely, the Spirit took my focus off of those fears and turned my eyes back to the Author and the Finisher of this story. As much as my heart yearns for Habi to finish growing up in our home, and as much as I know that he is and will forever be our son - we need no court decree or document to claim him as our own - I also know that God's plan could look different than even how we anticipate it is going to look. But for now, I am at complete peace in doing what God has asked us to do in this moment. And regardless of the verdict on July 2, He has asked us to pursue Habi, to defend him, and to step in as his Dad and Mama. So we do exactly this.

I continue to beg you for prayer and support. This story is not about Jim and I and Habi. It's about God being glorified and His kingdom being expanded. I believe He wants to write many, many characters into this story, and have us all point back to Him. Thank you for doing this with us, and for not leaving us to try this alone. Thank you for the prayer, the encouragement, and the financial sacrifices that so many of you have made. As of today, we have paid the initial fee to our agency, the visa fee, the passport fee, the birth certificate fee, the SEVIS application fee, an almost complete wardrobe, and it appears that we have enough money for Habi's plane ticket home (we will wait for the interview verdict before we book that). Just typing this reduces me to tears. I am so inspired by your outpouring of love. The easy thing to do in this case, would have been to just take out a loan and try to do this on our own. But I believe we would be missing out on something BIG that God has for us to learn and to see, and we would be excluding people from this story. People whom God very much wants to write into this story. We cannot, and are choosing not to do, this on our own. So we swallow that big lump of pride and we continue to plead for help. We are now anticipating that God will provide the remainder of the agency fee, tuition, books, and the sport fee for this school year, as well as gas to and from a school that is an hour from our home. I know God's got this. He has brought us so far and moved so many mountains for this boy!

A recent photo taken in Ethiopia, while he is staying with a friend of ours.

Let's pray Habi home! I am trying to figure out how to organize an official {virtual} prayer meeting for July 1 (in America)/2 (in Ethiopia). Does anyone want to help me with that?

.Shirts for Sale.CLOSED

CLOSED.

Jim has designed and redesigned these shirts for months. We had planned to use them as a fundraiser for adopting a little girl from Ethiopia. God had different plans, and now we are using them to help bring Habi home. Here is what we are offering:

1. A soft style v neck junior fit women's tee in sport gray. This style runs small, so we suggest ordering 1 size larger than you typically wear. Available in S, M, L, XL, 2XL, 3XL 

PRICE: $20 shipped  or $15 local. (additional $2 for 2XL and up)

 

2. A soft style unisex tee in heather navy. Available in S, M, L, XL, 2XL, 3XL

PRICE: $20 shipped or $15 local. (additional $2 for 2XL and up)

3.  An ultra cotton adult unisex hooded sweatshirt in sport gray. Available in S, M, L, XL, 2XL.

Price: $45 shipped or $40 local. (additional $2 for 2XL)

4. An ultra cotton adult unisex hooded sweatshirt in navy. Available in S, M, L, XL, 2XL.

Price:$45 shipped or $40 local. (additional $2 for)



We are doing pre-orders on these. As soon as we have enough buyers, we will send our order into the printer. We are hoping to have the shirts ready to be shipped before we leave for Ethiopia in two weeks. I will try to update on the status of the orders.

To order please pay using the Chip-in above (you will need a paypal account.) In the detail/note section, please let us know what shirt you are purchasing and what size. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me at amomentcherished(at)gmail(dot)com. 

Thank you so much for participating in this journey with us!

.It's Party and {Give Away} Time.

I wish I could invite you all to curl up in my living room with a cup of coffee, while we enjoy a girly party looking through Thirty-One Gifts. Instead we will have to do it virtually. A sweet friend of mine from college, Christy, offered to host a Thirty-One party and donate all of the profit to help us with the finances needed to bring Habi home.  (Christy is also in the process of fundraising to bring her Ethiopian sweetheart home. Please check out her blog here!) The party will be open until next Saturday, June 16. Thirty-One is a Christian company based on the principles of Proverbs 31. The items are beautiful and would make organizing one's home a little more fun (and pretty)! There are oodles of fabrics to choose from.

You are invited to the party, and when you make a purchase of any item - no matter the amount, you will have one chance to win an adorable Cinch-It-up Thermal Tote (retail $24). These make great lunch bags!

(Winner chooses the fabric!)

And this month only during this Blog Party, if you spend $35.00 you can purchase the Large Utility Tote for $10.00!  Also Thirty-One is offering tops ONLY this month for the large utility tote on special, for only $10!



There are 17 prints to choose from for this amazing bag! It looks like a great bag for a mom-on-the-go with littles! It would be perfect for picnics at the park, a day-trip, an over night diaper bag, etc.


All of the profit made from this party goes directly toward bringing Habi home.

To shop click here. Then click on My Parties on the top left and Shop Now after my name.

Would you take a moment to browse? Would you also be willing to share about Habi and this online party on your social media? Thank you so much friends! God is really at work in this situation. As of today, Habi has his birth certificate, and we believe his passport as well. It looks as if we will take him to his Visa Embassy Interview on Monday, July 2. We are specifically requesting prayer for Habi's courage and for a kind and gracious consulate. We have done everything we can humanly do up to this point. Now we surrender this all over to God - it's all in His control anyway. I believe He has a wonderful plan to bring Habi home. Thank you for being part of that plan. We are about to witness a miracle!

.Days 29 &30 of 7.

One more day left!!

Last night I zoned out with a book, and the evening got away from me. By the time I realized I had not published a post, I was too tired. And now yesterday is a blur of first day of summer vacation fun. It was gloriously hot. I took the kiddos for a walk, to the library, and to play at the park. We all were tired when we came home. I laid on Scotty's lower bunk bed for a moment during nap time, listening to their book on CD, and I fell asleep for about 10 minutes! That never happens! I love homeschooling so much, but the more relaxed, care-free summer days are very much needed as well. We are figuring out our summer routine and enjoying being together and having fun. I am noticing that this past month with no real menus to plan or big grocery lists or trips to make, I have a lot more time to be intentional with my children in the afternoon/early evening. I want to figure out how to make that stick.


Scotty & Cadi with their pile of library books yesterday afternoon.

But I have to be honest, I am thrilled to have worked on a menu plan and grocery list today! I cannot wait for my coffee on Friday morning. I will not take it for granted and savor every sip. But I learned something, I can live without it. I can also live without a lot of food. It didn't kill me, and after awhile it didn't even feel like self control anymore but just almost normal. The hardest days were Friday, because that is our family pizza night. We all really look forward to Friday nights. But it was fine.

Still working through all God taught me this month. I think food has been an idol. {squirm} I think I have allowed it to consume many areas of my life - and that therein lies the excess and the very point of this fast. I don't want to be ruled by the excess that is so suffocating here in America, and I don't want to blame this country for the ways I have let excess infiltrate my life, my home, and my heart. I want Jesus to rule me. Still pressing into Him about this, hoping to figure out how to more coherently write about it tomorrow.

One more day.

Habi update:

We got the I-20 from the private school that we have enrolled Habi in. It and our other paperwork is headed to Ethiopia! Habi has his passport photo taken tomorrow, and then he should have his passport by next Thursday. He should have a visa embassy interview scheduled for a day that Jim and I are in country. {squeal} Cannot believe this is all coming together so perfectly! Please, please keep those prayers coming. I am specifically asking prayer for Habi, as he is nervous about the interview, and for the consular who interviews him. We have heard that there is one woman in the embassy who almost never gives out visas, BUT our God is bigger!

Cadi update:

I shared this on facebook today.

Got the phonecall from Upstate Hospital that Cadi is officially in remission!!! She has been diagnosed with an accute case of I.T.P., however her chances of it reoccuring and becoming chronic I.T.P. are increased. BUT we only have to do another blood draw again if we ever notice the membrane bleeding, petechaia, or bruising, like she had this fall. God has been so good and gracious to our family! ......These have been probably the hardest 8 months of parenting to date. Thank you to our friends and family that carried us in prayer, encouraged us with cards, calls, messages, etc., babysat Jamesy and Scotty while Cadi had Hematology appointments, allowed us to cry on their shoulders or into the phone when Cadi was not looking, fixed us meals, sent Cadi care packages and cards and visited with Cadi while she was on bedrest for so long. Today we are praising God for life - every breath is a grace gift from God.

.Day 25 of 7.

Today I could write about this.



But that's boring, and the same as yesterday and the day before and 24 days ago. Still going. Still eating 7 foods. A little sad that we will not be enjoying bbq and picnic foods on Memorial Day, but we are almost done - 6 days left! There's nothing more to say on that.

So instead I will write on this.

Habi's birth certificate came in today!! This is a huge step in the visa process, and it took less then a week!



Isn't he so beautiful?

We were promised by the private school we are enrolling him into that they will have the I-20 and his acceptance letter to us by next Tuesday! This is great, because our close friend is traveling to Ethiopia next week and can take it all with him. This saves us both time and money. This next week, the agency will work on getting his passport and assigning him an interview date for his visa at the US embassy in Ethiopia. Please keep those prayers coming. The interview is what we need so much of your prayer going into.

I know God's got this. I really feel as if I am inside of a miracle about to happen.

And I cannot believe that I get to watch it unfold.

.Day 22 of 7.

I was going to skip blogging tonight. I am tired. I am sick of my 7 foods, and I had nothing to say.

And then I decided to add up the donations that have been gifted to us by you - my sweet readers and adoption friends and friends and family here.

Guess how much God brought in - using you?

$2500!

Guess how much we needed to pay the first fee to the agency?

$2500.

How great is our God? He is so in this process!!

 I really believe Habi is going to come home - most of the time. However, I would be lieing if I said that I didn't doubt at all. Our three children are in this with us. Jamesy, of course, does not understand. However, Cadi and Scotty really do understand. They are watching us live out this crazy faith - by moving rooms around and preparing for Habi to come here. We talk about him all of the time. We pray together for him at every meal and at family devotions at night. Today on Skype, Scotty says to Habi, You are my brother. Jesus is going to bring you home.

They get it.

And yet, a tiny piece of my heart begins to doubt and wonder if we are messing up our kids. But almost as soon as those doubt creep in, peace washes over me, and I think, no, we are teaching them what it means to live by faith and jump when God calls you to jump. And if it ends up looking differently than we hope, well they will learn how to process that, too.

And even if its painful, I am okay with that.

Because no matter what, God is so involved with this process, and the outcome - whatever it may be - will be His perfect will. In the meantime God is moving in huge ways, and we are learning every step of this journey. We are learning about faith, hope, love, and reckless abandon.