Often I think my face tells a story of joy. Many of those times my face is lying. I paint on a smile and a happy word for the world when inside my heart is racing, I'm not quite sure of what day it is, and sometimes I couldn't tell you what happened just an hour before with complete clarity.
This is the life of anxiety mixed with depression mixed with PTSD mixed with cluster migraines mixed with busy mixed with Mom'ing a toddler.
I struggle to make "self care" a priority when I am needed in other facets of my life - being a mom, being a wife, being a business owner, church, the foster care process, and being a friend. My dear WDD has reminded me over and over that when I'm not okay, none of those other aspects of my life are okay either. If I am suffering my many hats tend to tilt or fall off and get completely neglected.
Many years ago I spent hour upon hour sitting on a couch in a counselor's office delving into why I thought I was "going crazy" just to find out that no, there are names to these things and there are healthy ways to live with them we just have to find my triggers and hone in on some coping skills. (Of course there was a LOT more to it than that, but for time's sake there's the nutshell version) Thursday I start again on another journey of seeking professional guidance. I am equal parts excited and nervous. There is a lot at stake with being vulnerable. Here I type and it is an empty screen. There I sit, I speak, and make eye contact which somehow makes the words and emotions come alive more than when I put them on paper.
We sing a song in church that says:
"Lord I need you, oh I need you.
Every hour I need you.
When I cannot stand I'll fall on you.
Jesus you're my hope and stay."
This is my cry, my plea. When my days are blurs of tears, confusion, frustration, and fear, I know and can stand firm in that the Lord cares for me and is faithful. When I cannot stand, I can fall on him. My strong tower and ever present help in times of trouble. Where would I be without him?
Stay tuned.
Tuesday, March 6, 2018
Monday, January 1, 2018
Here's to you 2018
Here are a few things I pray are found within 2018:
days filled with joy
abundant side splitting laughter
lasting conversations
growth in friendships new and old
everlasting impacts for the kingdom of God
making and eating delicious food
playing with HW
molding HW's heart, mind, and soul to lean on the Lord
my heart, mind, and soul molded even more to lean on the Lord
knitting
books, books, and more books
healing
greater strength in marriage
spontaneous moments
I couldn't find the words to say to bid 2017 farewell so instead I look to the future. More times than not, when I look to the past I trip up and fall, many times, on my face leaving me to get back up scratched and worn for wear. Like Doubting Thomas, when I look back, I sink. My eyes are removed from the full figure of the Lord right in front of me when I look back. So here is to 2018 and all of it's wonder.
Thursday, December 14, 2017
Changes
2017 has been a year for the books. Big changes have happened and life is completely different.
Derek learned he was appointed the Track coach at school. Even though he has a love of running, teaching others to do so and to run to win was a horse of a different color. At the end of the season he, in fact, fell in love with the sport and spoke of how he looked forward to the next school year.
Our HW turned one. What a delight. He challenges us constantly. Parenting brings out the best and the worst in me and at the end of the day when he looks at me with those big brown eyes and says "Night Night Mama" and plants the biggest kiss right on my mouth I know I wouldn't want life to be any other way.
We tore apart a giant raised deck in our back yard, reconfigured the patio made of pavers, and had new LVT installed all throughout our home. I felt as if my summer was one big show on HGTV without the six figure budget.
Derek and I prayed and sought wise counsel over becoming foster parents. We then completed an intense 10 week class and are currently in the end stages of becoming licensed foster parents for respite care. Respite care is short term care provided for a myriad of reasons. Being a foster parent and DHR social worker are hard hard jobs and ones that are taken for granted regularly.
Eight weeks ago I got a phone call at 3:30am that something was wrong with my Dad and that he was being taken to the hospital via ambulance. Immediately I dressed and headed to the hospital to end up beating the ambulance there. For the next week doctors and nurses worked to find an answer to what happened to him to bring us to a point of being in an ICU room on machines with good days followed by horrible days. It was excruciating. We didn't sleep. We walked the halls of the hospital at all hours of the day and night. We didn't eat. How can you? One week after being admitted, a neurologist came in after doing a CAT Scan. Dad had had a stroke at some point causing massive damage. Damage that no amount of medicine, therapy, or time could fix. To know my Dad meant to know his humor, his knowledge, his love of outdoors and his grandson. Also to know my Dad meant to know his faults and he had many. He was the most stubborn human being on the face of the planet. The apple does not fall far from the tree. If his mind was set on something, there was no changing it come hell or high water. Despite the faults, he was the most generous person I've ever known. He taught me by example what it means to literally give the shirt off my back and to trust that the Lord will provide. The last thing he did was to load up my old twin bed, bring it to my house, and put it together so that HW could transition to a big boy bed. The last thing he did was not for himself but for others. When that neurologist showed that scan and told us the severity of the situation we were facing we knew it was time. We knew it was time to say goodbye. You see, that was part of his generosity. He gave us time to mourn and grieve by packing ICU6 to the brim with people from all the years to tell stories, jokes, sing, and read scripture together. He waited until Derek could leave school and say goodbye before he breathed his last. He knew we needed to recall the good.
I quit my job as a Montessori toddler assistant to work full time with Mom at our family business. It's not a flashy business but one Dad loved with all of his heart. We run a campground that is beautiful. It is where Derek and I married almost six years ago with Dad and my brother officiating. It was his life. It is my life. I miss my Montessori babies and family but am challenged physically and mentally everyday now and that is very healing.
HW has started a Mom's Day Out two days a week. He has been such a trooper and I know in time he will love school but for now it is yet another transition his little head and heart have to venture though.
In a conversation with friends full of venting struggles and questions about life a sweet friend made an impactful statement: "Right now who you need to foster is yourself and your own heart." She is right. How can I foster a child's broken heart when I haven't done so for my own?
Change is hard but it is necessary. The puzzle of life gets thrown down into a million pieces only to be put back together in a different order sometimes. You always start with the four corners and work your way in. I've found my corners. They are dented and a little discolored and now it is time to put it all back together.
Derek learned he was appointed the Track coach at school. Even though he has a love of running, teaching others to do so and to run to win was a horse of a different color. At the end of the season he, in fact, fell in love with the sport and spoke of how he looked forward to the next school year.
Our HW turned one. What a delight. He challenges us constantly. Parenting brings out the best and the worst in me and at the end of the day when he looks at me with those big brown eyes and says "Night Night Mama" and plants the biggest kiss right on my mouth I know I wouldn't want life to be any other way.
We tore apart a giant raised deck in our back yard, reconfigured the patio made of pavers, and had new LVT installed all throughout our home. I felt as if my summer was one big show on HGTV without the six figure budget.
Derek and I prayed and sought wise counsel over becoming foster parents. We then completed an intense 10 week class and are currently in the end stages of becoming licensed foster parents for respite care. Respite care is short term care provided for a myriad of reasons. Being a foster parent and DHR social worker are hard hard jobs and ones that are taken for granted regularly.
Eight weeks ago I got a phone call at 3:30am that something was wrong with my Dad and that he was being taken to the hospital via ambulance. Immediately I dressed and headed to the hospital to end up beating the ambulance there. For the next week doctors and nurses worked to find an answer to what happened to him to bring us to a point of being in an ICU room on machines with good days followed by horrible days. It was excruciating. We didn't sleep. We walked the halls of the hospital at all hours of the day and night. We didn't eat. How can you? One week after being admitted, a neurologist came in after doing a CAT Scan. Dad had had a stroke at some point causing massive damage. Damage that no amount of medicine, therapy, or time could fix. To know my Dad meant to know his humor, his knowledge, his love of outdoors and his grandson. Also to know my Dad meant to know his faults and he had many. He was the most stubborn human being on the face of the planet. The apple does not fall far from the tree. If his mind was set on something, there was no changing it come hell or high water. Despite the faults, he was the most generous person I've ever known. He taught me by example what it means to literally give the shirt off my back and to trust that the Lord will provide. The last thing he did was to load up my old twin bed, bring it to my house, and put it together so that HW could transition to a big boy bed. The last thing he did was not for himself but for others. When that neurologist showed that scan and told us the severity of the situation we were facing we knew it was time. We knew it was time to say goodbye. You see, that was part of his generosity. He gave us time to mourn and grieve by packing ICU6 to the brim with people from all the years to tell stories, jokes, sing, and read scripture together. He waited until Derek could leave school and say goodbye before he breathed his last. He knew we needed to recall the good.
I quit my job as a Montessori toddler assistant to work full time with Mom at our family business. It's not a flashy business but one Dad loved with all of his heart. We run a campground that is beautiful. It is where Derek and I married almost six years ago with Dad and my brother officiating. It was his life. It is my life. I miss my Montessori babies and family but am challenged physically and mentally everyday now and that is very healing.
HW has started a Mom's Day Out two days a week. He has been such a trooper and I know in time he will love school but for now it is yet another transition his little head and heart have to venture though.
In a conversation with friends full of venting struggles and questions about life a sweet friend made an impactful statement: "Right now who you need to foster is yourself and your own heart." She is right. How can I foster a child's broken heart when I haven't done so for my own?
Change is hard but it is necessary. The puzzle of life gets thrown down into a million pieces only to be put back together in a different order sometimes. You always start with the four corners and work your way in. I've found my corners. They are dented and a little discolored and now it is time to put it all back together.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Dear Husband
Dear Husband,
I loved you before I knew I loved you. That day in that English class that we passed notes while Betty taught. That day at Zea's we sat and you dropped your guarded wall and shared your heart with me. That night at Bellingrath Gardens where I laughed so hard.
Your wit and sarcasm and knowledge has kept me on my toes. Your heart and gentle spirit always supplies a place of rest when the world is anything but. Your unwavering love of the Lord and how you guide our family only makes my love for you stronger.
You are a gift I do not deserve and take for granted regularly.
There are days that are bad. Real bad. Those days are nothing in comparison to the seconds and minutes I get to spend in your arms, hearing you say "I love you", and knowing you do. With a past of fake love and a heart broken time and time again, I can rest in the knowledge that you hold this bruised and broken heart with a tender touch and forgive freely.
Forever yours,
Your undeserving mess of a wife
I loved you before I knew I loved you. That day in that English class that we passed notes while Betty taught. That day at Zea's we sat and you dropped your guarded wall and shared your heart with me. That night at Bellingrath Gardens where I laughed so hard.
Your wit and sarcasm and knowledge has kept me on my toes. Your heart and gentle spirit always supplies a place of rest when the world is anything but. Your unwavering love of the Lord and how you guide our family only makes my love for you stronger.
You are a gift I do not deserve and take for granted regularly.
There are days that are bad. Real bad. Those days are nothing in comparison to the seconds and minutes I get to spend in your arms, hearing you say "I love you", and knowing you do. With a past of fake love and a heart broken time and time again, I can rest in the knowledge that you hold this bruised and broken heart with a tender touch and forgive freely.
Forever yours,
Your undeserving mess of a wife
Thursday, July 14, 2016
Post Placement Depression
It has been very difficult for me to put the thoughts and feelings I have had the last 3 months into words. But, here I will try...
The days leading up to April 11 were somewhat normal. Exercise. Coffee. Work. Home. Repeat.
When the call came that we had been chosen nothing was normal any longer and I could not be certain of anything either. I was so happy and so scared all at the same time. On April 14th at 1pm the most perfect gift was put in my arms and everything changed. My joy was magnified as was my fear and anxiety.
We had been chosen by a birth mother to parent the child she had given birth to. No longer would we receive birth mother summaries. No longer would we have to wait for the child the Lord had chosen for us before time began. No longer would we have to shrug and answer the "When" questions with "I don't know".
You see, I am methodical. I enjoy the steps to get to the final project. Yard work is one of my favorite things even though our yard does not look like it has been touched in weeks (it hasn't). The process is what brings me joy. There will always be growing grass that needs to be cut and weeds that need to be weed-eated. It is the knowledge that I am needed and the satisfaction of supplying the answer to that current need that brings me joy and purpose. At the end of the day my grass may look beautifully cut and edges done but the bushes are 5 feet high falling over from the previous day's rain storm but I am full of pride at the completion of step one. Now, bring on step two...tomorrow or the next day.
Our adoption journey to our HWD has been just that, steps to be mulled over and prayed over and cried over. Each set of paperwork or social worker visit or birth mother summary was just another step to get to the finale. Those tiny steps were my fuel to continue and celebrate.
Now, it is over. Yesterday as we drove to the courthouse for our finalization my heart hurt. There would not be another step. There would not be another milestone to celebrate. The process would be completed. I would have ripped up all the grass and laid sod to never cut again.
I began to mourn when we had our first post placement visit with our amazing social worker. It was then that I realized just how devastated I was. This process had consumed me and my family. How was I to just be done? What do I do now?
Life with HWD was wonderful. We snuggled. We laughed. We pooped our pants. We napped together. A bond formed quickly and today when he hears my voice he turns to look for me. Yet, I found myself feeling empty. I found myself upset and sad and lonely. I felt even more broken than when Derek and I had those difficult conversations about infertility.
What was wrong with me? I was surrounded by everything I had ever dreamed and prayed for and yet I couldn't get out of bed. I couldn't form answers to simple questions. I cried and slept and ate and loved on HWD. Derek and I fought over the stupid and mundane things all because my feelings were hurt and I saw everything from the fogged lenses of depressed eyes. The worst of all my fears was that if anyone knew my precious baby boy would be taken away from me because I am not his biological mother. I was not yet legally his forever mommy. No one could know. No one would know. I could put on a happy face at church and weekly family dinners. As long as I contained my tears to the car and home I would be fine.
A sweet friend and fellow adoptive mom said to me days after we were chosen and life as a mother was so fresh to begin mourning the process. That sounds like such a strange thing to do. Why would I not just be so overjoyed and elated with my new child? Wouldn't my world be consumed with happiness and thankfulness because it is finally over and this baby is in my arms?
I have been through many challenges in my 30 years. I have suffered through self hurt, depression, anxiety, nightmares, and indescribable betrayal and loss. For many years I worked diligently with the best counselor in the world to acknowledge those things and be able to cope with them when they showed their evil heads. I can honestly say that post placement depression is real and one of the hardest to admit and work through.
I thought that just because I was adopting I would be immune to the postpartum depression so many women suffer through. I was wrong.
Even as I type this, "It Is Well" by Bethel Music & Kristene Dimarco plays in the background reminding me that the same God who wrote the path of adoption into my life long before I was created is also the same God who holds my hand as I cry and heals my broken soul.
Through it all my eyes are on you. Through it all, through it all, it is well.
Fellow sufferers, you are not alone. Do not be ashamed, as I was. Cry out to the Creator of all things and lean on him for as Matthew tells us, His yoke is easy and his burden is light.
The days leading up to April 11 were somewhat normal. Exercise. Coffee. Work. Home. Repeat.
When the call came that we had been chosen nothing was normal any longer and I could not be certain of anything either. I was so happy and so scared all at the same time. On April 14th at 1pm the most perfect gift was put in my arms and everything changed. My joy was magnified as was my fear and anxiety.
We had been chosen by a birth mother to parent the child she had given birth to. No longer would we receive birth mother summaries. No longer would we have to wait for the child the Lord had chosen for us before time began. No longer would we have to shrug and answer the "When" questions with "I don't know".
You see, I am methodical. I enjoy the steps to get to the final project. Yard work is one of my favorite things even though our yard does not look like it has been touched in weeks (it hasn't). The process is what brings me joy. There will always be growing grass that needs to be cut and weeds that need to be weed-eated. It is the knowledge that I am needed and the satisfaction of supplying the answer to that current need that brings me joy and purpose. At the end of the day my grass may look beautifully cut and edges done but the bushes are 5 feet high falling over from the previous day's rain storm but I am full of pride at the completion of step one. Now, bring on step two...tomorrow or the next day.
Our adoption journey to our HWD has been just that, steps to be mulled over and prayed over and cried over. Each set of paperwork or social worker visit or birth mother summary was just another step to get to the finale. Those tiny steps were my fuel to continue and celebrate.
Now, it is over. Yesterday as we drove to the courthouse for our finalization my heart hurt. There would not be another step. There would not be another milestone to celebrate. The process would be completed. I would have ripped up all the grass and laid sod to never cut again.
I began to mourn when we had our first post placement visit with our amazing social worker. It was then that I realized just how devastated I was. This process had consumed me and my family. How was I to just be done? What do I do now?
Life with HWD was wonderful. We snuggled. We laughed. We pooped our pants. We napped together. A bond formed quickly and today when he hears my voice he turns to look for me. Yet, I found myself feeling empty. I found myself upset and sad and lonely. I felt even more broken than when Derek and I had those difficult conversations about infertility.
What was wrong with me? I was surrounded by everything I had ever dreamed and prayed for and yet I couldn't get out of bed. I couldn't form answers to simple questions. I cried and slept and ate and loved on HWD. Derek and I fought over the stupid and mundane things all because my feelings were hurt and I saw everything from the fogged lenses of depressed eyes. The worst of all my fears was that if anyone knew my precious baby boy would be taken away from me because I am not his biological mother. I was not yet legally his forever mommy. No one could know. No one would know. I could put on a happy face at church and weekly family dinners. As long as I contained my tears to the car and home I would be fine.
A sweet friend and fellow adoptive mom said to me days after we were chosen and life as a mother was so fresh to begin mourning the process. That sounds like such a strange thing to do. Why would I not just be so overjoyed and elated with my new child? Wouldn't my world be consumed with happiness and thankfulness because it is finally over and this baby is in my arms?
I have been through many challenges in my 30 years. I have suffered through self hurt, depression, anxiety, nightmares, and indescribable betrayal and loss. For many years I worked diligently with the best counselor in the world to acknowledge those things and be able to cope with them when they showed their evil heads. I can honestly say that post placement depression is real and one of the hardest to admit and work through.
I thought that just because I was adopting I would be immune to the postpartum depression so many women suffer through. I was wrong.
Even as I type this, "It Is Well" by Bethel Music & Kristene Dimarco plays in the background reminding me that the same God who wrote the path of adoption into my life long before I was created is also the same God who holds my hand as I cry and heals my broken soul.
Through it all my eyes are on you. Through it all, through it all, it is well.
Fellow sufferers, you are not alone. Do not be ashamed, as I was. Cry out to the Creator of all things and lean on him for as Matthew tells us, His yoke is easy and his burden is light.
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
The End of the Book
A wise woman once told me that "there is a perfect plan already set out. We just don't know what it is. Haven't read the end of the book"
Ironically, that same woman's favorite Bible verse is:
But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up on wings as eagles;
they shall run, and not be weary;
and they shall walk, and not faint.
Isaiah 40:31
I admit that there have been times that I read the end of the book before I read the middle. I also readily admit that I have read the Cliffs Notes and watched the movie instead of reading the whole book. --- Those times that I didn't do so hot in my English classes in high school and college are now making a lot more sense ;-)
Infertility and adoption is not a book one can skim through. It can be compared to skimming through one of the great novels like Moby Dick, Great Expectations, A Tale of Two Cities, or The Brothers Karamozov. The details and the suffering and the lesson are not found easily.
One of my favorite bible verses is Romans 5:3-5 which reads,
Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope and hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.
We have been very transparent about the introduction and beginning chapters of our book but have withheld details about those middle chapters that were full of suffering to reveal a sneak peek of the final pages ending with our happily ever after. If you would, please bear with me to tell the details of those middle chapters, for in the end there is hope and joy.
We've talked about waiting, but I don't think we have gone into the details of what waiting looks like for a domestic adoptive parent.
Beginning on October 29 Derek and I began getting birth mother summaries. These summaries include information that is sensitive and specific to each birth mother. Birth mothers bravely express medical and social details that could be embarrassing or shameful.
Once we receive the summaries we have a time limit to respond whether we want that birth mother to see our profile or not. For example, there could be a birth mother summary in our inbox at 4:00pm and we have to read and pray over the summary and respond by noon the next day.
Every time we said "Yes, show this birth mother our profile" we then had to wait an unknown amount of time to hear an update from our social worker. While we waited, the birth mother was given a stack of profiles in the form of picture books for each family who also said "Yes, show this birth mother our profile". Our wait seemed to be tiresome and unnerving but the choosing process for each birth mother is even more tiresome and unnerving than we could imagine. She had to look through book after book for the family she would place the child growing in her belly with.
I needed an update and I needed an update quickly. Waiting and patience were difficult day in and day out. Derek and I prayed daily for the birth mother looking at our profile and specifically for the one who would one day choose us. As I prayed for her peace and her salvation, I also asked for patience for myself and a softened heart for the pain and suffering and grieving our birth mothers were living through.
Each "No" was both heartbreaking in the knowledge that we were not chosen yet joyful in the knowledge that that birth mother had done the most difficult decision and chosen an adoptive family for her child.
Some weeks we read one summary while some we read four. November came and went, as did December, January, February, and March. My phone could constantly be found in my possession waiting to be updated.
April rolled around and we had seen upwards of 20 summaries. That is 20 mothers Derek and I prayed over, thought about, and hoped to one day meet if not here in Heaven to say Thank You to.
Our fourth anniversary was April 6. The week before we bought fruit plants and an apple tree. When we exchange anniversary gifts we follow the traditional gifts. Year four is fruit. On our way to dinner we received another birth mother summary. We decided to say Yes and to wait again. April 6 was a Wednesday. Monday my phone rang. It was the phone call we had been waiting to receive. It was the phone call that would change our lives forever. It was the phone call that told us we had a son. Our waiting was over, or so we thought. Our hearts were filled with such joy.
We learned that those fruit plants and apple tree were planted on the day our son was born. One of my devotionals during those couple of days of waiting on our son was Deuteronomy 28.
"If you fully obey the Lord your God and carefully follow all his commands I give you today, the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations on earth. All these blessings will come upon you and accompany you if you obey the Lord your God:
You will be blessed in the city and blessed in the country.
The fruit of your womb will be blessed, and the crops of your land and the young of your livestock - the calves of your herds and the lambs of your flocks.
Your basket and your kneading trough will be blessed.
You will be blessed when you come in and blessed when you go out."
The Lord has blessed our crop. We still pray daily for our son's birth mother. We still thank the Lord for her bravery and obedience. We wait for the day we stand before a judge and hear that our son is officially a Dupuis. Until that day we rejoice for his life. We rejoice for his birth mother. We rejoice for each "No" we received was only paving the path for this perfect gift we've been given.
Ironically, that same woman's favorite Bible verse is:
But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up on wings as eagles;
they shall run, and not be weary;
and they shall walk, and not faint.
Isaiah 40:31
I admit that there have been times that I read the end of the book before I read the middle. I also readily admit that I have read the Cliffs Notes and watched the movie instead of reading the whole book. --- Those times that I didn't do so hot in my English classes in high school and college are now making a lot more sense ;-)
Infertility and adoption is not a book one can skim through. It can be compared to skimming through one of the great novels like Moby Dick, Great Expectations, A Tale of Two Cities, or The Brothers Karamozov. The details and the suffering and the lesson are not found easily.
One of my favorite bible verses is Romans 5:3-5 which reads,
Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope and hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.
We have been very transparent about the introduction and beginning chapters of our book but have withheld details about those middle chapters that were full of suffering to reveal a sneak peek of the final pages ending with our happily ever after. If you would, please bear with me to tell the details of those middle chapters, for in the end there is hope and joy.
We've talked about waiting, but I don't think we have gone into the details of what waiting looks like for a domestic adoptive parent.
Beginning on October 29 Derek and I began getting birth mother summaries. These summaries include information that is sensitive and specific to each birth mother. Birth mothers bravely express medical and social details that could be embarrassing or shameful.
Once we receive the summaries we have a time limit to respond whether we want that birth mother to see our profile or not. For example, there could be a birth mother summary in our inbox at 4:00pm and we have to read and pray over the summary and respond by noon the next day.
Every time we said "Yes, show this birth mother our profile" we then had to wait an unknown amount of time to hear an update from our social worker. While we waited, the birth mother was given a stack of profiles in the form of picture books for each family who also said "Yes, show this birth mother our profile". Our wait seemed to be tiresome and unnerving but the choosing process for each birth mother is even more tiresome and unnerving than we could imagine. She had to look through book after book for the family she would place the child growing in her belly with.
I needed an update and I needed an update quickly. Waiting and patience were difficult day in and day out. Derek and I prayed daily for the birth mother looking at our profile and specifically for the one who would one day choose us. As I prayed for her peace and her salvation, I also asked for patience for myself and a softened heart for the pain and suffering and grieving our birth mothers were living through.
Each "No" was both heartbreaking in the knowledge that we were not chosen yet joyful in the knowledge that that birth mother had done the most difficult decision and chosen an adoptive family for her child.
Some weeks we read one summary while some we read four. November came and went, as did December, January, February, and March. My phone could constantly be found in my possession waiting to be updated.
April rolled around and we had seen upwards of 20 summaries. That is 20 mothers Derek and I prayed over, thought about, and hoped to one day meet if not here in Heaven to say Thank You to.
Our fourth anniversary was April 6. The week before we bought fruit plants and an apple tree. When we exchange anniversary gifts we follow the traditional gifts. Year four is fruit. On our way to dinner we received another birth mother summary. We decided to say Yes and to wait again. April 6 was a Wednesday. Monday my phone rang. It was the phone call we had been waiting to receive. It was the phone call that would change our lives forever. It was the phone call that told us we had a son. Our waiting was over, or so we thought. Our hearts were filled with such joy.
We learned that those fruit plants and apple tree were planted on the day our son was born. One of my devotionals during those couple of days of waiting on our son was Deuteronomy 28.
"If you fully obey the Lord your God and carefully follow all his commands I give you today, the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations on earth. All these blessings will come upon you and accompany you if you obey the Lord your God:
You will be blessed in the city and blessed in the country.
The fruit of your womb will be blessed, and the crops of your land and the young of your livestock - the calves of your herds and the lambs of your flocks.
Your basket and your kneading trough will be blessed.
You will be blessed when you come in and blessed when you go out."
The Lord has blessed our crop. We still pray daily for our son's birth mother. We still thank the Lord for her bravery and obedience. We wait for the day we stand before a judge and hear that our son is officially a Dupuis. Until that day we rejoice for his life. We rejoice for his birth mother. We rejoice for each "No" we received was only paving the path for this perfect gift we've been given.
Friday, December 25, 2015
Joy, unspeakable joy
"Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!" Psalm 126:5
"Your words were found, and I ate them, and your words became to me a joy and the delight of my heart, for I am called by your name, O Lord, God of hosts" Jeremiah 15:16
"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." John 10:10
"Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep" Romans 12:15
"Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice." Philippians 4:4
"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you" 1 Thessalonians 5:18
"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." James 1:2-4
And overwhelming where
No tongue can tell
Christmas may not always be merry, but Christmas does always have this sense of joy that cannot come from the circumstances I may find myself in.
Just like my salvation, I am so thankful my joy is not found in anything I could do or say.
I am not the first to lose a loved one on Christmas morning. I am not the first to be hurt by people who attend a church claiming to be Christ followers. I am not the first to get an email on Christmas Eve that a birth mother has chosen another family.
Through the hurt, the pain, and the anger, joy always seems to surprise me in the end.
I am beyond thankful that in the midst of the circumstance, I can say "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!" (Luke 2:14).
The Lord is the reason for this season we call Christmas and the Lord is the reason for the joy and peace I lean on when the days are dreary.
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