Waiting for TA

Well, here it goes. The longest two weeks in history. :)

Some time in the next two weeks, we should get our Travel Approval. That is our official call to come pick up Moses.

There's a decent chance it will come this week, and I'm feeling that crazy sense of anticipation where your senses are super-hyped and ready for the phone to ring at every second. This morning I wrote the agency and gave them every phone number we have so they could call us as soon as it gets here.

We still don't know who will travel. We wrote Sue Sorrels, an adoption travel agent who is supposedly a master of finding the lowest fares possible. The agency says we have to fly in to Beijing and out of Guangzhou, and that will make a round-trip impossible, unless we can find a creative alternative.

I'm trying to plan for all of us going, two of us going, and just Bobby going. It's a little crazy not having a definite plan at this point, but we're doing the best we can with it.

Bobby already has some of those synthetic travel shirts you can wash out in the tub and hang to try overnight. Last time he was in China, the hotel charged a ton of money for laundry (like $5 to wash one pair of underwear), so washing stuff ourselves is imperative. I had trouble finding that quick-try techy material for women, but eventually I ran into a couple of shirts on deep sale at T.J. Maxx in the workout section. They are super lightweight and will pack teeny tiny. If I do go to China, one goal is minimizing the clothes we pack for ourselves to make room for supplies to take to orphanage kids in Beijing.

In particular, we hope to take some child-size colostomy bags to the folks at Morning Star Project. Click here to read about their work in China. So, if you know where to get those cheaply, or if you'd like to donate some, please give me a shout.

I found Moses a couple of pair of tennis shoes at Target this weekend. I have no idea what size to take, because his last foot length measurements were taken in March. I'm taking a cute pair of hand-me-down Crocs (size 6/7), and tennis shoes in size 7 and 8. I really hope at least one of those will fit.

I also bought a small pack of Pull-Ups, which I heard are good for the flight home, even if he is potty trained. (Supposedly the Chinese version leaks??) And I found a little picture board book of common English words. Maybe we can use it during the wait times and on the plane ride home.

We still need to find gifts for orphanage workers, tour guides, government officials, etc. I'm really hoping some of our adoptive friends will point us in the right direction on that, because I have no idea what is appropriate.

Thanks for taking the time to follow our journey. Prayers for a rapid TA, cheap plane tickets, and efficiency in the final details are needed. Also, we need to pray for little Moses, of course. He's about to face the biggest transition of his life so far. We hope the Lord will make it as gentle for him as possible.

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hot dogs and hard times

Tonight we finished KidSport, a summer sports camp that our church hosted in a downtown elementary school. For our grand finale, we invited the parents to stay and hang out for a program and dinner. It was really a neat experience to just sit on the playground with people you don't know, eating hot dogs and popcorn, and talking about life.

It wasn't a high-pressure religious setting at all. During the whole three-hour gathering, the only spiritual material mentioned was a five-minute story about Bret Farve and the Apostle Peter. The rest of the night was just parents and kids mingling, sharing parenting struggles, watching a cheerleading performance and sports games, and hanging out. We didn't even tell them the NAME of our church from what I can remember. We just loved them. And we let them love us.

I was amazed by how vulnerable a few folks were. One gal I spoke with had encountered mostly abuse and failures in life. There was a beauty to her humility. She was open about fears, and fixes, and old wounds. I loved seeing a rawness and honesty in her that people in my normal circles (including myself) have learned to hide.

By the end of the night, we had parents asking us what the name of our church was, where we met, wanting to know service times, and asking if they could come in simple clothes.

I'm so thankful. It all just felt right. I fell in love this week with taking ministries like that off campus to where people really are... just being real and being close.

When people asked where our church met, I should have said, "It meets here. And I hope it always will."

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I'm reading through Milton Vincent's The Gospel Primer again. Below was tonight's entry, which I found really helpful. (This whole book is definitely worth the read, BTW.)

Perspective in Trials:

More than anything else could ever do, the gospel enables me to embrace my tribulations and thereby position myself to gain full benefit from them. For the gospel is the one great permanent circumstance in which I live and move; and every hardship in my life is allowed by God only because it serves His gospel purposes in me. When I view my circumstances in this light, I realize that the gospel is not just one piece of good news that fits into my life somewhere among all the bad. I realize instead that the gospel makes genuinely good news out of every other aspect of my life, including my severest trials (Romans 5:1-5). The good news about my trials is that God is forcing them to bow to His gospel purposes and do good unto me by improving my character and making me more conformed to the image of Christ.

Preaching the gospel to myself each day provides a lens through which I can view my trials in this way and see the true cause for intelligent rejoicing that exists in them. I can then embrace them as friends and allow them to do God's work in me."

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What are the odds?

This week our church is hosting a sports camp in one of our downtown schools. The goal has been to move into a community with love instead of expecting the community to come to us.

The kids in my group have had it rough. One of boys has never met his dad. Another suffers from a debilitating birth defect and lost his mom this past year. It's awful to think of the struggles they are going to have to face in life. The odds are clearly against them.

Playing with kids comes easy for me. So does loving them. Ministering to the deepest needs of their hearts does not. Deep needs take time, and I have suddenly just shown up in their emotional neighborhood, whispering hopes that are big, foreign, and hard to comprehend. These kids are small and sometimes slow. They have emotional defects and a low attention span. They get wiggly and restless when old tales are told, not understanding fully how they could fit into such big shoes.

Thank goodness for our youth minister, who is a former elementary teacher (AKA: a master of translation). Last night he segued with the life story of Wilma Rudolph. Brilliant.

Wilma had lots of health problems as a child, but she couldn't access fair treatment at a local hospital because she was an African American born before integration. When she contracted polio, it looked like she would never walk. But through the devoted care of her mom, and through personal dedication, she overcame her handicaps and became an athlete. She eventually won three Olympic gold medals.

Wilma beat the odds. That made sense in a soundbyte, and the kids got it. (Thanks, Mat!) Then we played ball, made paper megaphones, played more ball, and sat in the floor and ate a bunch of cookies. That made sense, too.

At the end of the night, we huddled up around the story of Gideon. I have heard that story many times, but it came to life in light of the night's focus.

Gideon had some pretty tough odds, too. He was leading Israel's army against Midian. Midian had 135,000 soldiers and Israel had 32,000. So basically, every Israelite would have to take out four Midianite soldiers. 'Sounds like a good time for some reinforcements.

But instead of beefing up the ranks, God said Israel had TOO MANY soldiers. (Seriously... too many?) So, He told everyone who was scared to go home, and 22,000 guys packed up. This left Israel 10,000 soldiers to fight 135,000.

God said that was too many still. (Seriously... too many still?) So He took them down to the water and sifted them. When He was done, there were only 300 left. 300 to fight 135,000.

What are the odds now? They are laughable. They are impossible. But God knew that His power shines the brightest when human odds stink.

Sports camp is supposed to encourage the kids who show up, and I really hope it did. But last night also had a pretty big impact on me.

Over and again through our adoption process, we haven't been adequate. We haven't had enough courage. We haven't had enough knowledge. We haven't had enough money. We haven't had enough room. We never seemed to have enough soldiers to fight Midian. And as the process moves forward, our emotional and physical resources continually seem ridiculous in the face of impossible challenges.

Yet, God has shown up in our neighborhood, whispering hopes that are big, foreign, and hard to comprehend. I am small and sometimes slow. I have emotional defects and a low attention span. I get wiggly and restless when the old tales are told, not understanding fully how I could fit into such big shoes. I just want to sit in the floor and eat cookies.

The odds are against me. But my God is big.

Maybe this is exactly how it's supposed to be.

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Overwhelmed.

I'm still too overwhelmed to be very eloquent in this post. However, I want to at least try and update.

Tonight we showed up at a birthday party for our associate pastor. He and his wife have an incredible heart for community, so we headed over to their house expecting a fun, eclectic mix of neighbors from all walks of life.

When we walked in the front door, only folks from our church were there. I was a little surprised by that, but also thankful for the chance to just hang out and love on people we never have enough time to talk with on Sunday mornings.

A few minutes into the gathering, Tommy and Celeste made an announcement. The main purpose of the party wasn't a birthday celebration, but to help raise funds for the adoption. I felt my knees get weak. It was totally unexpected.

I have trouble explaining how it felt to be standing in a room so full of love and support for a child who has never had a family. When you are adopting internally, you never know if a child who looks a little different will really be accepted. But moms and dads (and their toddlers) were literally filling up those rooms, talking about how excited they were for their children to befriend our new son. And they were supporting us as we pursue him.

I can't find the right words for how I feel yet. To be this overwhelmed by grace is indescribable. Thank you to those who made it happen. We are moved beyond our ability to express it adequately.

P.S. Also, we received $2500 in one night. Unbelievable! Thank you so much!!!!

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out of egypt.

Those of you who have been following our story know that our 13-year-old son picked out the name “Moses.” He started praying for his little brother by name every night last summer, before we even realized that boys in China needed homes. What we haven’t told you is why he chose that name.

A symbolic, spiritual answer seems fitting here, but I don’t have one. JD chose "Moses" because he wanted their dynamic duo to be known as: “John Dynamo and his Little Bro, Mo.”

Our friends have had different reactions to this name. Apart from Gwenyth Paltrow’s son, you just don't see it very often. "Moses" is not something you'll find embroidered on pillowcases in a Pottery Barn Kids catalogue.

Yet, the Lord hides lessons in unexpected places. And we've learned that He can even do that with a name birthed out of teenage wonder speak.

When you first start to develop a heart for orphans, it’s easy to embrace a ‘savior’ mentality. Why? Well, you see heart-wrenching YouTube videos and hear the awful stories about how these kids start life, so you are horrified. You want to get involved in liberating a child from a hopeless, abusive existence. You want to be the rescuer. Saving at least one child becomes the focus of your heart.

Yet, social workers and experts strongly discourage the ‘savior’ perception. They don’t want a child growing up feeling like a charity case, and that makes a lot of sense.

Maybe you have seen hovering, needy moms turning older adopted kids into objects. They nurse their own insecurities by making their identity as ‘adoptive mom’ central to most conversations. They do this in front of their children, and you can literally watch their kids wither as they listen.

The sensation I get while watching this exchange happen is almost one of bondage. The mom continually suggests that her child is indebted to his/her rescuer. It feels shameful. There is no dignity involved in this sort of relationship.

Bobby and I are still very new to adoption, so my reflections are green. But this bondage dynamic has been the total opposite of what we have experienced so far. Moses isn't even here yet, but we have still found a duality of salvation happening. Our child isn’t the only one being redeemed through this process. He is also being used by God to rescue his parents... perhaps to an even greater extent than what he is experiencing.

As I look back through the past year, I can see how God has already used our little Moses to lead me out of a thousand captivities. I used to confidently throw around the name of God while working for earthly masters. I was bound by political frustration, materialistic goals, and self-centered dreams. I was frightened because I might someday suffer, but I didn’t grieve because others are already suffering. I was too much like the parents in The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, myopic and self-indulgent, pursuing new toys while people were dying. I was too certain and too hard. I didn’t let the pain of the world penetrate my heart deeply enough.

Of course, I still have tons of room to grow and change. On the "Simmer v. Belly Flop Sin Continuum," I'm a belly flopper. I'm the sort of person who goofs up robustly, and I will tomorrow, and I will the next day.

However, because of Moses, I am no longer the same person now that I was before he was in my life. He's not even here yet, but he has already made me see and feel the whole world - and my role in it - so differently. I can't imagine how much more he will teach me after he arrives.

So rescue? Who is being rescued? Sure, I can give Moses a home. But he has given me the gift of sight in exchange. He has rooted my loyalty deeper into eternity. He has softened my callouses. He is loosening my grasp on foolish things, wooing me not with rules and demands... but with a smile so big his eyes disappear. He is unhinging thirty years-worth of captivity. He is transforming my "they" into "we". Moses is leading me out of Egypt.

At this point, in our relationship I am the debtor. He has already given me so much more than I can offer him. Perhaps someday God will help me return the favor, and we can be equals. But until then, thank you, Moses. I have needed you. And I need you still.

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