.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.

.One Year Later.

One year ago today we flew into Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Hours later we walked into Jamesy's baby room and scooped him up forever. Being in Jamesy's birth country and witnessing things that I still cannot talk about without completely breaking down, things that still haunt my dreams, was the privilege of a lifetime. For God to choose to allow me to get away from my small, sheltered narcissistic life and get a tiny glimpse into things that break His heart every single day has changed me. The tiny taste of suffering I was allowed to witness, that I had before been ignorant, and even more regrettably, apathetic to, shook something deep inside of me. This journey was about more than an adoption, more than Jamesy, more than even orphan care or social justice, and most assuredly it was about more than me. After a year out, I can confidently say that a big part of this journey was God removing my blindness and the callouses upon my heart in order to reveal to me and allow me, to partake in the pain and suffering of others. It has taken me a year to be able to honestly say that it is a blessing to see things a little bit closer to how God sees them, to enter into human suffering and pain so beyond anything that I have ever dealt with. To feel and live and know with this new bruised heart is a gift. My heart lurches and my stomach tightens to realize and accept that except from the grace of God, I could have lived and died this small, shallow life with a cold, hard heart thinking that this was how God meant for me to live my life - a water-downed version of Christianity - an impostor of a disciple, but that was not His plan. I now choose pain rather than ignorance or numbness. It is a blessing to feel. It is a blessing to step inside the suffering and pain in this world, because I carry inside of me The Hope and The Answer to this world's suffering.





I honestly do not know how or what to write today. This past year I have been part of something so much greater than myself. I have witnessed redemption in a tangible way and come face to face with the reality of what my own redemption and adoption cost God and His beloved Son. Redemption is costly. It is so costly. God has written me into a story I never imagined or in and of my flesh even desired, being part of. I was graced with a front row seat as God grafted an orphan into our family and miraculously (but not easily - redemption is never easy) made him our son. Jamesy's story unfolded before me as he transitioned from living in an orphanage to living inside of and becoming part of a family. I saw firsthand the sorrow, brokenness, and sadness that follows a child who has been orphaned. Fear that was palpable has been heavy in our home and has still not released her clutch on our son. 15 months in an institution and 12 months with his family is just starting to heal the wounds that our son carries. I was not adequate to integrate Jamesy into our family. This has been the hardest year of parenting yet. There were many dark moments and at times days, because I could not heal my son. I could not fix his wounds. I could not take away the first fifteen months of his life which were stolen from him, where he was orphaned, alone, mistreated, and rejected. I could not replace the nine months that he laid solitary in a crib, too malnourished to even lift his head. There were days that I tried to do it, but I could not. And somewhere along the way, I finally realized  God never asked me to do it. He just asked me to be His vessel, to let Him heal Jamesy's heart through me, and He did and He is and He will. It was all God. I was simply invited to participate.











I have learned so much in this past year being Mommy to Jamesy. I have learned that God delights in magnificent transformations that only He is capable of. I have seen him transform sadness into joy and ashes into beauty. In one year, I have witnessed a redemption miracle right inside of my home. A miracle that is not complete, for there is far more work to be done. Work in my stubborn heart and healing in Jamesy's, and perhaps this year I am more prepared and ready for it.

God isn't finished writing this story. I am patiently awaiting the tilt of His pen, and the turn of the page as He inks a new chapter onto my life.

Happy one year Gotcha Day, Jameson Yonas Byron, I am so thankful to be chosen to be your Mama, and grateful that we both rest in the arms of the only true Refuge and the One who cares for His children

 perfectly.

 

This is/was our "adoption journey" song. Someday it will appear in our adoption video - whenever we actually get that done. {grin}

.The Rhythm of my Heart this Christmas.

We lived a very different Christmas this year with fewer gifts, less flurry of activities, quieter, slower, and perhaps sweeter. And while my heart was filled with so much joy in experiencing and celebrating my Jesus' birth, I cannot pretend that every corner of my heart felt that joy. I braced myself for the sadness, and in doing so it did not swallow me, it did not overtake me, but it did linger and cling to the dark shadows in the little corners of my heart. He's not home, not home, not home. My heart beat out a steady rhythm. With each hand chosen, carefully thought out gift that we presented to our children Christmas morning, my heart continued to beat out the sorrowful rhythm even in the midst of the JOY. A brown eyed, curly haired, dumpling of a boy was missing, and my heart knew it. My head knew it was foolish, after all he will be here next Christmas and next and next, God-willing. And that sweet, chocolate skinned child had no idea he was missing a family or a Christmas or a celebration of His Savior that had come to rescue Him. And perhaps that was the saddest, hardest part for me - he had no idea. For five months now he has been in the transitional home in Ethiopia. What his first seven months looked like in the orphanage I do not know, and I cannot go there in my mind yet. He has known no family in his twelve months of life - no mommy, no daddy, no sister, no brother. No goodnight prayers and kisses and lullabies. He doesn't know what he has missed, and that makes my heart hurt. It changed the rhythm of my heart this Christmas - in both good and hard ways.

There were bright, bright spots in our Christmas despite the gaping hole in our family. Cadi sang her first solo on Christmas Eve. Her voice was sure and sweet, and she sang about the greatest gift we have been given - Jesus. We encouraged her to do her best and sing to Jesus. It's not a performance we said. And she sang, closing our Christmas Eve service at church, as if what she was giving was truly a gift to her Savior. It is something I will never forget.

We spent Christmas quietly with those we love, and it truly was a special time.



We awoke Christmas morning to the second best thing to having Jamesy home - our very first video of him. The video is less than a minute long, and I have literally watched it hundreds of times. Memorizing every detail, trying to get a better understanding of who he is and of his "special need". This little one needs our prayers, as we have learned he has now been diagnosed with chronic otitis media (ear infection). He has had ear infections for over a month and has been on four rounds of antibiotic. I am just praying for his recovery and protection for his hearing. In the video we also noticed that he has a horrible sounding cough that has caused us some concern. We have heard of several children coming home from Ethiopia recently with pneumonia, and I am fearful of that for him.

I am carrying a lot of fear right now, as the reality of Jamesy's needs become more apparent. I know it is Satan whispering lies to me. I know that God will equip us to care for the needs of this amazing little boy, but my flesh screams out my inadequacies daily as we get closer to our new reality. We leave to meet our son in 19 days! Most likely Jamesy will be in our arms for the first time in 20-21 days. Oh my heart beats faster writing that! I have imagined the scenario a thousand times, but I know nothing will prepare me or compare to the real thing. I wonder what he smells like, what he feels like, sounds like. Is God preparing his heart? Will his heart know that I am his mommy? Will he cry? Will he be scared? Will I cry? Will I be scared? So many emotions... I am fearful of not passing court the first time, as this seems to be the pattern right now with most families. I am preparing to not pass court the first time, and to be unexpectedly elated if we do. I want to. I really, really want to, as it would get Jamesy home faster if we do.

We requested donations for orphanages in Ethiopia for our Christmas gifts. Our family and church family has blessed us greatly, as we are so excited to bring these needed items to the children in Ethiopia who are still waiting for a family to claim them as there own. Here is the first part of our donations. We still have more coming!



I sent Jim to the store on Monday to pick up our prescriptions for our malaria prophylaxis. He left with some Christmas money, and laughed about checking out the prices on the Wii's. He came home with bags loaded down with shoes, formula and clothing for children a world away that he has never met, and my love grew surer and stronger for this man that has been transforming into the likeness of Jesus more and more before my eyes.

I am excited for the new year as all of my children will finally be under one roof, God-willing. I am excited to finish Jamesy's adoption and start our journey of parenting this little sweet heart. I am anxious to see what God has in store for us next. I wonder if we will adopt again (I think we will, but probably not this year!), if we will organize a missions trip for our church, or start a widows/orphan/adoption care ministry in our church, or if God has something else in store. For now I will sit back and place my trust into God's hands as we finalize this portion of our story. I will try not to peer too far ahead but just enjoy the here and now and the moments that God has for our family in the coming days. Our stories are made up of so many moments. I want to be prepared to tuck away and marvel in each one - the hard ones, the joyful ones, the scary ones, and the beautiful ones. I desire for each God-breathed moment of our life - our story - to truly be a moment cherished.

.And That's a Wrap.

Jim's candidating Sunday is over. It went well. I thought he did a great job communicating and sharing God's Word and his heart, despite his nerves. The question and answer time last evening went really well, too. Jim handled himself graciously and confidently. I am glad it was not me having to sit up front and answer questions!

So now we sit and wait. The vote will be this coming Sunday after the morning service. I think this will be a long week for us.

I am physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. I didn't really realize it until this morning. I am having trouble communicating and processing my thoughts here, but I wanted to share something as I have gotten so many sweet words of encouragement and prayers. Thank you. I am incredibly grateful and humbled. I promise to get my act together soon. I have a few fun posts up my sleeve for this week. But for now, I am going to (without guilt) go rest on the couch.

.Once Upon a Time.

....there was a girl who loved a boy and loved his passions and desires. She wanted to follow this boy to the end of the earth if need be, but she also wanted to play it safe.

Not rock the boat.

This girl liked routine,

she liked predictability,

she like stableness.

She found security and comfort in monotony, and she fled from change. She loved God, and desired His will for her life, but she clung with white knuckled fierceness to control of certain aspects of her life, and shamefully even tried to claim the reigns of control in the life of the boy whom she so loved.

The boy on occasion would mention a desire to pursue other passions other ministries. The girl, oh how she would balk, and whimper and whine like the hot-headed toddler child that still reigned in her heart at times. The girl could manipulate the boy with well-thought out words. She knew just what to say to tighten those reigns of control. And the boy, oh how he loved the girl, and wanted what was best for her. So he would back down. Time and time again. Little by little she whittled away at his will, his desires - trying hard to fit them into her safe little mold for their life.

The girl knew that this area of her life needed to be chipped away at. She knew that the control she fought so hard to hang on to was not right. This crazy need to control her life, his life, and everything that revolved around that was so very wrong. The control was not even real. It was imaginary.

She was not in control and could never be in control. She needed to relinquish it over to her Creator, Who was, and always had been - in control.

The girl was terrified of what this might mean. Terrified of really letting go, for probably the first time. Ever. She trembled at the thought of cutting the reigns from her clenched fists, and handing them over. What kind of fool would relinquish control over his life for some unknown future?

This area of control after all had been the girl's security blanket for as long as she could remember.

Don't rock the boat.

Keep going.

Keep plodding.

Resist change - change brings about the unknown, and with the unknown a lack of control. A complete and total surrender of what she had clung to for so long.

And then, what she had been so fearful of for such a long time, happened. Her Father breathed into her heart the voice of Truth - about her need to surrender. The girl crumbled in a heap knowing that the charade was truly over. In order to live like her Creator intended her to live, she had to give up and give over this area of her life.

So broken and humbled the girl admitted to the boy that she could no longer carry on the false pretense of control.

The masquerade was over.

It was time to surrender.

She begged the boy's forgiveness for her manipulative ways, for her stubborn heart, and as the tears rolled over her cheeks she began to feel a peace wash over her, and begin to uncloud her mind and the lies she had told herself.

The boy seemed to have been waiting and praying for a long time for the girl to speak and feel those words.

He held the girl.

And the girl surrendered to the boy's embrace.

And together, for the first time, that boy and that girl free fell into the arms of the One who orchestrated it all.

There was no zip chord.

No parachute.

There was no emergency exit.

Just complete and total reliance in Someone outside of themselves.

Is the girl still scared?

Yes. But for the first time in her life, the girl feels real peace that covers much of the fear and knows the freedom that comes when one surrenders ALL.

... whoever of you does not forsake all that he has cannot be My disciple. (Luke 14:33)

.It's Official.

I have typed and retyped and thought out and rethought out this post, yet I still cannot make it come together.
As of tonight, it is official, my sweet husband has resigned from his camp position. We will be done January 31st.
God has called Jim to be a Pastor.
Scared.
Excited.
Numb.