May the God of hope fill you with all JOY and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13 There is one thing we have learned about adoption. It is always evolving, changing, and providing choices to stay where you are, or rip the scares apart, deal with them, and force yourself to change. Over the past seven years, we have started an adoption process, fought medical visa’s (twice-first was denied), brought our baby home, endured 12 plus surgeries, while fighting immigration on the U.S. side, adopted our baby, fought immigration again for citizenship, flew to Haiti to endure some very difficult meetings to ensure citizenship, and finally last year celebrated the finalized process of adoption, immigration, and citizenship. The paperwork journey had ended. Lily’s paperwork life was finalized. However, the emotional roller coaster of adoption remained. Over the past year we have been able to breathe again. We have not had to question what life was going to look like if things did not work out as they did. We have been able to sleep. Not worrying about what would happen if the paperwork was not approved. Not worrying about the financial restraints of the immigration and adoption process. Over the course of seven years we paid for the adoption twice. Crooked agencies, lawyers etc. do a number on your sanity and bank account. Immigration is intimidating and expensive as well. To fight the U.S. immigration processes was around 20K. That is another conversation for another day. So, for those of you who love to say, “They should do it the right way” (meaning immigrants) explain to me what mother fleeing a 3rd or 4th world country, poverty, famine, and abuse, could possibly come here and “do it the right way”? Shell out the money we have, at the lovely liberty that we could afford an awfully expensive, good attorney to walk us through this ridiculous process. I will leave that alone for now, as that topic is for another day. But you get the picture. We can finally rest and breathe and just do life. Except, emotional scares do not go away. It has been a really good year for Lily. She is growing. And accepting. And each day she has more questions, and each day we try to find the right answers to bring healing to her soul. Because aside from all the obstacles she must endure from her legs and wheelchair, her soul suffers much more than her physical body. I try to be aware of this. I try to offer grace. I try to be the mom she needs, so that when she gets older, she will look back and not be angry at her situation but embrace all God has done for her. Sometimes, I fail miserably. And sometimes, I get it so right. It is the balancing the two that is exhausting. This time last year we were at a fundraising event for Lily. It was a difficult time for Lily. She had really been struggling emotionally, and I was spent. Exhausted. This would be one month and 4 days before she would accept the greatest gift she ever received, and her soul would truly begin to heal. One month and 4 days before she would accept the greatest gift of all. Jesus. I received a text message after the show. I remember the exact place, the exact time, the exact moment I was when I received this text. We were in the car on the way home from grocery shopping. My kids were out of control that day. One smart mouthed strong will battle from one and the other was right on her heels. It had been one of those days. And I had lost my temper. I yelled at everyone, and I was done with all the crap they had thrown my way that day. I was feeling like a loser mom. I was sure I made a fool of myself in Costco parking lot. My kids were crying. Brad and I were not our best and we were just not thankful, grateful, or anything close this close to thanksgiving. It was one of those days. And the following word from the Lord is what I received in the middle of our storm of life. Jennifer, I was at PWAP last night and mentioned to Lily that she would change the world one day and that her joy was infectious. I don’t know your story, but the Lord continued to speak to me concerning Lily all night. I almost went back to PWAP to tell you, but it was over by the time I could go back. So, I asked for your information and thankfully they gave it to me. Forgive me if this is a little weird for you, but I have learned that when the Lord speaks, I listen. And it is not often that He clearly gives me a recipient so quickly and so tangibly. God told me that Lily’s impact will affect nations. Not only in a blanket statement of “she’s a world changer” kind of way but that her joy will change the trajectory of lives. He told me that “Laughter will bubble up in the bellies of the oppressed” because of Lily. I had to pull over on the side of the road because I could feel the impact she would have on people. I started sobbing feeling like my life had just been changed with a single glimpse of her joy. Multiply that for the thousands that will be affected by her love. She won’t just change the world. She will redefine what it means. “Trajectory” was a word He kept placing on my heart for her. I got that message at the worst possible time. I was mad at her. I was tired with her. And it was heavy. God knew what He was doing. He always has and always will. He sent that to me at a low point. He reminded me there is still work, deep, gospel work to be done in Lily’s life. One month later I would watch that same smart mouth kid, lead her aggravating sister to the Lord and it was beautiful. And that set my heart on fire and reminded me of the prophesy from that stranger a month prior for my daughter. I now know there is much at stake for Lily. For us. For those she has touched and will touch. I have gone back to this often. It still gives me chills each time I read it. It still rises a fire in my soul for the ground she will cover for Christ. It still reminds me parenting her heart and soul matter, because she will help change things I can not even begin to imagine. Fast forward a year. I took my kids to Rosh Hashanah. It was a beautiful service full of rich tradition. Lily sang and danced. She has a love of life that is infectious. She does not meet a stranger, and she lives each moment she is given to the fullest. It was a three-hour service. And she drank every bit of it into her soul. At the end of the service the Rabbi asked if there was anyone that needed prayer. The service was over. We were chatting, and I looked around and did not see Lily. I scanned the room and there she was. Tapping on the Rabbi. None of us around her, she boldly approached, and before I got to her she was already engaged in conversation. This baby that never spoke in Haiti, that kept her emotions locked up and locked in, was bold and asking. As I walked over to her she was explaining where she was from, what happened to her legs, and that she wanted healing to walk. She had already climbed out of her chair and was seated on the floor with the Rabbi next to her and another woman who was there praying as well. I kneeled into their conversation, and I see my child owning her disability. Owning her journey. Owning all of what has happened to her and laying it at the feet of Jesus. The Rabbi listened and was ready to pray. He grabbed Lily’s hand to pray and immediately stopped. It was as if lightening had just gone through this prayer circle. He pulled back and said, “Before I pray, I need to tell you something Lily.” “God told me to tell you He is pleased with YOU. He finds JOY in YOU. He DELIGHTS in YOU.” He went on to speak life, the words of God into her soul and she drank it in. And all I could think about it how I parented her that week. Everything I corrected, everything I scolded, everything I did not praise or pour life into. Every bit of joy from her I wasted. I felt 3 inches tall. And in that moment, I saw Lily as God sees Lily. Full of joy, full of laughter, full of hope, full of life, and that SHE WILL change the trajectory of this world. As I was realizing all of this and wallowing in my downfall, the woman grabbed my hand to pray, looked me in the eyes, and said God has a word for you too. “He is pleased with you, He loves you, and delights in you.” It was salve for my weary soul. I learned something about my God that night. That He is kind, gentle, and caring about every detail. Of each of our lives. That night Lily and I were just daughters of the King. Not mom and daughter, but sisters sitting before their Father being lifted up to Him. We were both there for healing and hope. Restoration and Laughter. Joy and Revival. God spoke life and love into our hearts. He is not a dictator and keeper of wrong, but a God of true love. He allows you to come just as you are. Broken and beautiful to Him. I experienced Him in new ways that night and it has continued ever since. Joy is also a choice. Especially in the world we live in now. And that night He showed me how to have true Joy and Rest in Him. Last night we were at church for a movie night. Lily was shuffling in the seat she was in. I could tell her hips were starting to hurt. If she sits in one position too long her body begins to ache. I watched her ask her sister if she could climb into her lap. She did. And as Anna Lee scooped her up, wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in tight it was a picture of what Jesus does for us. When we hurt, if we just let Him, He will scoop us up. Hold us tight. And remind us who we are to Him. These girls of mine will change the world. I am speaking it into their lives. Parents are you positioning your kids to hear from the Lord? Are you allowing them experiences with the Lord that will outweigh the experiences of this world? Are they seeing love in your life or hate, anger, and everything that is going wrong, instead of, right? Or are you choosing joy during painful circumstances. Are you living triumphantly or defeated? Opinions and attitude are everywhere these days. And my question to you is do they know your opinions and attitude, or do they know your God and His gospel.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

Lily finally asked me the dreaded question.  I knew it would come one day.

        It has been challenging the last few weeks with #nolimitlily around our home during quarantine.  She misses lakeshore and her friends.  It is hard for her to get energy out being in a chair.  Especially when she has SO MUCH stored up in that little body of hers. She can’t go outside and run and play.  It has taken some imagination to get her energy out.  On the days we don’t do so well, it comes out with negative behavior.  Sometimes it triggers past behaviors because of past trauma in her little life.  You never know what will trigger her behaviors or her memories, but I am getting better at recognizing them.  New ones often surprise me, but you just learn to roll with it, make a note of it, and adjust.

        Last Wednesday we cooked rice.  And stir fry.  The rice did it.  It was the trigger.  She loves rice.  LOVES RICE.  It’s all she ate when she first came home.  Probably because it was the staple meal she had in the orphanage.  But with the rice came lots of questions at dinner.  It brought back memories.  I could see her wheels turning.  YouTube will show you anything.  So, we pulled up Haiti videos.  We drove down the crowded streets.  We visited the meat market.  We saw the mountains and the sea.  We saw houses some big, and others small shacks.  She even asked about prisons (this comes from watching cops with PawPaw…insert an eye roll here).  So, we checked out the less than desirable conditions in a Haitian prisons.  We looked at pictures of orphanages.  We talked about the journey to bring her home.  We talked about our experiences there and how Anna Lee was only 6 years old the first time she visited.  2 years old less than Lily right now.  That struck a chord with her.  Some things she saw frightened her. I shared with her how scared I was the first time I visited, but that often God calls us to do things even though they are scary.  She realized just how brave her big sister really is.  Dinner was finished.  We cleaned up.  Lily was still at the table.  Brad and Anna Lee had moved on to the living room for the nightly showing of Dr. Pol.  It was just her and me.

       
         A lot of times it’s just her and me.  And we battle often just her and me.  Because we are both stubborn.  We are both feisty.  And we both want our own way.  And this night she picked me.  She picked me to ask the hard questions. 

I read a blog a while ago about a grown adopted child.  She was angry at her parents.  Angry at the world.  She was angry she had been adopted and not given a choice.  She wanted a choice as a small child to decide if she wanted to be adopted or not.  Then I realized there is a whole community of adopted children like this out there.  It scared me to death.  Kept me up for about a week.  I worried this would be Lily.  That she would grow up and be angry that she didn’t have a choice.  That she would hate us as this child did her own parents.  That she would be angry at her situation.  What is the difference in this woman and my Lily?  This is still in the back of my mind often.  Especially when the hard questions come.

After everyone left the table and it was just her and me.  I could see she wasn’t finished.  She was quiet.  Still looking at pictures of her homeland.  I sat down asked her what she wanted to know.  Big tears welled up in her eyes, and I asked again.  Then she said, “Did I have a momma in Haiti?”  We have danced around this for a while.  But tonight was different.  Her heart, mind, and soul were connected to this question.  She wasn’t asking as a child anymore, she was asking as someone who wanted answers.  I quickly prayed for God to give me healing words for her soul.  And I answered, “YES.”  You absolutely had a momma in Haiti.  Then she asked, “What about a daddy?”  To which I answered, “Yes.”  Then the question I knew was lingering came.  “Why did my momma leave me at the orphanage.”  Again, whispered prayers for her soul.  I told her all the information I knew.  I shared with her that I feel in my soul that her momma knew she would have a better chance at getting medical care if she left her there.  And that she made the ultimate sacrifice for her daughter that would give her life.  I explained to her that I wasn’t brown, I wasn't Haitian, and I wasn’t her birth momma, but that one day there is a prayer journal of mine that she could read.  And during the exact days her birth momma was giving birth and the 10 days before she entered the orphanage, her American momma was praying for her birth momma and daddy to make the best possible decisions for their child.  For 10 days that no one has accounted for Lily, for some reason I was directed to pray for our birth child’s parents.  I was covering them and didn’t even realize the significance of those dates.  I was praying for them and Lily as they traveled about Haiti for 10 days before she was placed.  And that we were forever connected through prayer.  That she was never alone not for one minute.  That she and her Haitian family was constantly being covered in prayer.  We talked about every trip we took and every goodbye.  How we cried and our hearts broke when we left her, but our prayers didn’t leave her.  How we fought for her when she had no idea God was moving Heaven and Earth for her.  How she is now surrounded by family, and friends who love her fiercely.  Tears were shed, but they weren’t the heartbreaking kind that I thought would come.  I shared with her how I believe God has a mighty plan and purpose for her life.  That I believe she is going to change this world.  How she is fierce and brave.  She then said we needed to move to the living room at this point.

She made us circle up.  She climbed in her chair and said she needed to share something.  And one by one she thanked us for what we did.  She just kept saying over and over thank you for going and thank you for taking me and loving me, and I saw it coming...the flood gates broke.  Tears from deep down came flooding out.  I watched Brad scoop her up.  And she cried.  She cried all the hurt, pain, and joy her little life has had.  In the safe arms of her daddy, she let it out.  Again a picture of how our Heavenly father holds us, and our tears.  Anna lee and I watched with tears.  I quickly explained the conversation that took place in the kitchen, which led to what we were experiencing at that moment.  We circled her up, shed some tears, and told her how much she was loved and wanted.  Then comes the beautiful part. 

We have done a lot of things wrong, but we have also done some things right.  And what came next flooded my soul with hope.  Lily grabbed our hands and said circle up.  We are having family prayer.  I will lead, yall follow and dad will finish.  Something that was painful, something that hurt, wounds that were opened were healed in my baby that night and she knew why.  It was because of Jesus.  She knows the answer is prayer.  She went there without being led.  That night she was leading.  And she prayed the most special prayer my heart has ever heard.  She thanked God for each person in her family, and some she even said why.  She thanked him for citizenship and wheelchairs and healing.  She thanked him for a family and for her friends and for her church!  We all prayed.  We all took turns thanking Him for all he has done.  It was beautiful.  It was not at all what I imagine this conversation to look like.  Jesus took something that was broken and molded it into something beautiful.  I saw healing replace hurt, and pain turn to joy.  I realized in that moment the difference between the angry adopted child and my Lily was Jesus.  I don’t have to fear her future, because He already has it. 

This adoption journey as been hard.  For all of us.  We have all had moments of despair.  Of joy.  Of hurt.  Of anger.  But EVERY SINGLE TIME God turns it all back to Him and fills us full of hope and joy.

This kid of mine will change the world.  I told her the other night when her eyes were full of tears, she might have been left, but she was chosen.  Chosen by God, chosen by us, chosen by her grandparents, chosen by her friends and that she will forever be wanted and pursued.  She is loved and safe and home.