I’d like to tell you a story. It’s a story about four very different people and a set of seemingly unrelated circumstances.

After (finally) deciding to stop ignoring God, we started making big life changes to work toward special needs adoption. One of which, was walking away from my career after 18 years. Hands down, one of the scariest things I have ever done.

We knew we could be fine on one income, but we also had that long list of things that still needed accomplished and unfortunately they all, in some way or another, involve money. I wanted and needed to continue to help financially. And so began my half year of searching, praying, floundering, trying, exploring, and praying some more. I worked on Teacher’s Pay Teachers items, wrote another book, started an ETSY shop, did freelance transcription work, became a tutor, and started babysitting twice a week. All in hopes of finding the best way to benefit my family, to help with our list, and yet, be a stay at home parent.

None of them were right.

None were enough.

The magic of this story is that the four people involved are random. They all have their very own story. They come from different states, with different jobs, and this all began with no prior connections to each other. Their stories don’t seem to fit together in any way at all, and yet they do.

There is ONE single thing all these people had in common. God had a plan for them, and they followed it. Had even one of them not taken that step in faith, I wouldn’t be telling this story today.

It began with me submitting some photos of my son’s Fishing Club to his school’s social media manager. That’s where these four women’s stories came together to answer MY prayer. I would like to tell you each of their stories, it would make this so much more interesting, but they are not mine to tell. What I can tell you, is that because of them, those photos I submitted, turned into a job for me.

Not just A job. THE job.

It was exactly what we’ve been praying for.

Exactly.

A part-time, steady income, that I can do from home when my kids nap. A job I could take with me as we traveled for adoption. A group of women who have teamed up with kindness and integrity while staying at home with their children. Family and faith were spoken about freely and passionately during the interview process. I was terrified through the whole thing because it just seemed perfect, and I was afraid to lose the chance to be part of it.

It was an opportunity I didn’t know existed, brought to me by people and circumstances that seemingly had no connection, and fit what I was praying for like a missing puzzle piece.

I know a lot of people will just call it coincidence and that’s okay. I call it God. He set us on this path, and He has laid out the road in front of us, placed each portion to lead just where we need to go. If just one of the people in this story had not been involved, had not lived their own separate stories as they did, I do not believe this opportunity would have ever been presented. He orchestrated the entire thing, has done so from the beginning, and I have faith He will keep providing everything we need. I’m starting the new year with a new job, a perfect job for our journey, and another heavily prayed for check mark on my list.

Clearly, His path for us was set in motion long before we agreed to travel it.

Much love to you all -
Melissa
Account Manager, #SocialSchools4EDU 

Drained.

Sometimes regular life just leaves you feeling drained. We’re at the end of a long month, and finally feeling, hoping, praying that we’re on an upswing.

Along with the busyness that Christmas brings, we had five doctor visits, four respiratory infections/viruses, two ear infection, possible strep throat, a sprained back, and just when we thought we were through it, a GI bug attacked out of no where and with a vengeance.

My little lady woke up the night after our final Christmas celebration in pool of vomit which turned into vomiting every ten minutes for the next three hours which led to a trip to the Emergency Room at 1:00 in the morning. After some medicine to stop the vomiting, a force fed popsicle, instructions for dehydration and a prescription for recurrent vomiting, we were discharged. But not before, this nasty bug decided to jump human and wreak havoc on the two of us as well. The next day, all four us us were down with it.

This isn’t a complaining post. Yeah, it’s been frustrating and inconvenient. Yes, the laundry has blown way past the out-of-control stage. Yeah, the Christmas toys are sitting untouched.

And yes, the refrigerator is full of decaying leftovers. But, while this month, especially these last few days, have been hard and tiring and miserable, we still recognize just how lucky we are.

Our counter has been lined with medicines, both over the counter and prescription that we not only have access to it, but have a means to pay for. Our doctors are a quick drive away and if they are closed, we have Urgent Care, or in the middle of the night, the hospital.

Medical care isn’t a worry.

Our home is warm. Whether we are chilled or sweating, we have clothing, blankets, soft beds to sleep in, fans, popsicles, ice cream, fuzzy socks, and cozy furniture in front of our movie (or Peppa Pig) marathons and fire place.

Comfort isn’t a worry.

We have people we can depend on to tag team cleaning vomit, to sleep on the couch when we leave in the middle of the night, to bring us Sprite and crackers and soup, to take turns napping and bring extra blankets, to wipe tears and toilet bowls. We have people.

Care isn’t a worry.

Perhaps most of all we have an abundance of love. Hugs and sweaty forehead kisses. Relentless questions from a mom to a son about how he’s feeling. Head rubs and shoulders. Sharing beds and rubbing backs. Texts to see how we’re doing. Couch snuggles all day. Trips to the store when we’re too unsettled to leave the house. Inside this house and out, love and safety pours in.

Love isn’t a worry.

D and I were sitting in bed that night with our sick little, keeping her upright when all she wanted was to lay down. A towel tucked under her chin awaiting what hadn’t stopped recurring every few minutes. She was the bravest little thing, waking up to vomit, looking at us with wide eyes, that quickly closed again as she slumped back against me. I brushed back her hair that was still damp and smelly from what I’d previously tried to wash out. We worried over her and prayed and maybe one of us snapped at the other about staying calm.

It was a long few hours, interrupted often by her sickness. But in that time, a quick conversation took place, thoughts that we were both thinking in one form or another, that settled hard in my heart and left me with perspective.

There are people who deal with these things, without all the blessings we’ve been given. There are people in this world who die from the same things we dealt with this month. There are people in this world that deal with these things alone; no help, no medicine. There are children in this world who spend a night like our little girl, but do it without love, comfort, parents, assistance.

In an orphanage like those we will be adopting from, if a child was sick like this, would anyone change her sheets in the middle of the night? Would anyone sit her on the sink and whisper that it’s going to be ok while they cleaned the curdled milk chunks from her hair and face? Would they change her clothes? Would they hold her even though she smelled and kiss her warm cheeks? Would they sit with her while her little body fought against the infection and heaved over and over? Would they stay up with her? Would they call the doctor? Would she feel safe enough to ever fall back asleep, knowing she was cared for no matter what happened next?

The answer, most likely, is no.

A hard, heavy fact settled in my heart.

There is a very real possibility that our future son or daughter has already been born. Meaning that he/she is already laying somewhere in an orphanage, and could be experiencing the exact horror D and I discussed as as we sat in our bed with our baby girl.

It’s an actuality I knew, but hadn’t ‘felt’ until this month with my family. It’s another feeling for me to compartmentalize in the “I DON’T REALLY KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS” box. Our child somehow became a little bit more real in my heart this month. And right now, that reality kind of emphasizes my need to cling on to my babies and my family support, and also deepens my hurt for the possible life the child we’ve yet to meet could be living at this moment.

I know how much work we have ahead of us this year to prepare. My mind, swirling as it does, is formulating a plan to balance productivity toward the future and presence the moment. I’m excited. I’m anxious. I’m nervous. I am so ready.

I have a new folder on my phone. Green heart has always been for my son and his apps. My daughter has claimed the Purple heart folder.

And now I have an Orange and it looks just right!

Among a multitude of other blessings, one thing having children eleven years apart has given me is perspective. My son, as a toddler, was insanely easy to parent. I can remember every single one of his tantrums.

There were only three.

He made me ‘that mom’ who’s child was (nearly) always well behaved. Yet, I was still always worried about a public meltdown when hints of moodiness would surface. I was convinced everyone was looking at me, judging me, and that I was doing something wrong if I couldn’t control his behavior.

God knew I wasn’t ready for a strong willed child.

YET.

Eleven years later I have another toddler. One who is not insanely easy to raise, not even a little bit. One who has a ferocity in each and every one of her emotions and is not about to let me be ‘that mom’ for a second time. But years, perspective, and prayer are helping me be THE mom she needs. And shamelessly love it in the process!

I’m learning to be part of her team, focusing less on the behavior and more on the person.

Controlling her behavior is not my role, but rather walking with her and teaching her how to navigate these emotions and experiences that are bombarding her all at once with such strength and bewilderment.

She is overflowing with wonder and exploration. She has a fire burning wild inside her and a light that shines bright and true. She is all stubbornness and unabashed expressions of awe. Her eyes are brimming with adoration and joy and love even when her actions are tempered with frustration and temper. She acts with pure determination, swelled with confidence and trust. She is stead-fast and solely internally driven, knowing with certainty where her happiness is found, free from outside influences. In this moment of her life, she is unswayed by the world. Uniquely individual.

I don’t want to control my daughter. In these toddler years she is exploding with and discovering all the things that make her distinctively… her.

Fostering. Teaching. Guiding. Joining. Appreciating.

That’s where I choose to settle. It’s not my job to control her and mold her into the person anyone thinks she should be. It’s my job to help steer her through this time of confusing emotions and intense learning as she’s discovering who she was created to be.

Call it mellowed, or relaxed, or perspective, or whatever you want – I call it a gift. A gift that allows me to fully enjoy and embrace and celebrate these toddler years with my daughter in a way I know I wouldn’t have been able to eleven years ago.

She is NOT a terrible two. She is a two-year-old tornado of awesome wonder and I’m going to let her spin.

These beauties are also embarking on their toddler journey. The difference is they are doing it alone. I can’t imagine how different my girl would be without our support and love. Worse even, if she was stifled and neglected, never even getting the chance to shine.

See them. Share them. Donate to them. If you’re able, run to them. Until we all do a little, there will always be a lot of children who never get to feel the safety that is a family.

Quill

Emmett

Jacquie

Faustina

Alistair

Once in a while you see two things that are in such stark contrast, that it’s impossible not to take pause at the vastness that exists between the two realities. Several weeks ago, months now, this happened to me on social media. Simply scrolling through my feed they sat there, each a normality of their everyday life. One just after the other, yet a hundred million worlds apart.

The first was an extravagant celebration of someone well loved by family and friends. The photos highlighting fun, friendship, and festivities. The monetary value of the weekend very likely rivaling the amount we paid for a used vehicle.

Below those smiling faces, was this.

Abandonment. Neglect. Pain.

I have started and deserted this post no less than five times.

Each time I left the words here unfinished, convinced that my feelings regarding these two posts were in one way or another, wrong. At first I was mad. Angry that they had thrown so much money into a celebration of which the only outcome was some fun. WHAT IF they had instead given their money to this orphan? WHAT IF that jump in his adoption fund was just the thing that was holding a family back from rescuing him? Or any waiting child for that matter. WHAT IF they hadn’t been so selfish?

But then my pastor called me a hypocrite. Well, not me specifically, but he spoke about hypocrisy that next Sunday and, let me tell you, the shoe fit. What about all the times I have spent money for “fun” instead of donating it? What about all the trips we’ve taken and are planning to take even now? What about the money we’ve spent on stuff we just had to have? But didn’t really. Sure it’s not the same in amounts, but then again, we don’t have the same social status so isn’t it really all the same? What we choose to do with our extra?

And how do I know that they don’t do their own part in helping others? Just because I don’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Just because I don’t see them donating or advocating for special needs orphans, doesn’t mean they aren’t passionately working for another cause. Don’t I ignore the posts and commercials about animal cruelty? I see them, I feel bad, but it’s not where I feel called to help. Don’t I scroll past a lot of the medical posts about cancer research and elderly care? It’s not because I don’t have compassion, it’s just that we can’t donate to everything that’s wrong in our world, we simply can’t support EVERY SINGLE CAUSE.

So why was I so mad that this person had posted about the lavish celebration?

Perhaps it was just the contrast between those pictures and the one that followed. Maybe it was the way my heart shredded watching that precious baby suffer. And possibly it was the parade of WHAT IF’s that marched around in my head for weeks following those posts.

What if ALL the mega millionaires sold just one of their vacation homes, or luxury cars, or massive pieces of jewelry and gave that money to a cause? Wouldn’t they still be mega millionaires? Would they even miss it?

What if ALL the celebrities and professional athletes gave up their salary for one movie, commercial, season, etc. and donated that money to charity? Wouldn’t they still be famous? Wouldn’t they still have more than most of the rest of the world?

What if ALL the wealthy gave up just one vacation, one shopping spree, one pair of designer shoes and instead made a donation to an adopting family? Would that noticeably change their life or status?

What if ALL those with social a media presence and following, made a point to share a cause and ask their viewers to become aware? Would that ruin their reputation?

What if ALL middle class families decided to forego one dinner at a restaurant to give fifty bucks to an organization devoted to helping others? How long would they actually miss the food they could have had?

What if we chose to shop for birthdays and holidays from adoption fundraisers and women overseas who have been rescued from sex trafficking? What if our gifts could also help others?

What if instead of spending ALL our time liking and sharing posts about fashion, celebrities, food, exotic destinations, awesome cars, and funny memes, we took just a few minutes to like or share something a little more meaningful? What if we were a little less concerned about what other people thought about our posts, and a little more concerned about how we might help the people in our posts?

What if, what if, what if….

What if all this actually happened? Would we even be on this journey to adopt? Would there still be a need? Could it be that easy? What if it was?!

What if?

Last Sunday my pastor spoke a message that cleared up my hesitation and I found the rest of my words for this post. If I can veer off topic for a moment and admit that I used to be a person who thought, ‘you don’t have to go to church to be a Christian’. In theory I guess that’s still right, but for me, I HAVE to go to church to be the Christian I want to be. Every Sunday I leave with clarity, renewed thoughts, fresh perspective, and a deeper relationship with God. I NEED the message of others, I NEED joint prayer, I NEED worship music to move in my heart, I NEED to feel the presence of faith all around me. I sincerely hope and pray that your church does this for you, and if not, keep searching. I truly believe it’s so important. And we’d be so happy for anyone who wants to come with us next Sunday!

But back to my topic.

Here’s the thing, I only have control over ONE person in this life. I can only dictate what ONE person does with their time, money, blessings, circumstance, etc. And wasting my time on the WHAT IF’s, isn’t going to change anything.

After Sunday I instead starting asking myself, ‘What are you doing to help?’ We donate. We advocate. We’re working toward adoption. But those things do not touch the WHAT IF’s that I was wrestling with. What am I doing to help others, help others?

Nothing.

Gods power, my words.

That’s what my pastor said, and it helped me to realize that I have words I am not sharing. I have words that could change some of those IF’s into TRUTHS . A new WHAT IF occurred to me.

What if there are people who feel compassion for the special needs orphan crisis like I do and want to help, but don’t know how?

That’s my clarity. That’s what I can do. I can show you how. I can help you help them.

So today I’m putting this out there for anyone who sees my posts and wishes they could do something. Anyone who’s heart hurts at the injustice these children face. Anyone who wishes they could help. It doesn’t matter if you have no money to spend, there are things you can do. It doesn’t matter if you aren’t good at writing, there are other ways to help. It doesn’t matter if you feel overwhelmed at the ocean sized problem, you can make a ripple that matters.

I would like to help. I would like to show you how you can help. We can go for coffee and talk. We can text or email or talk on Messenger or FaceTime. We can just hang out in my messy living room and chat over Oreos. However you feel comfortable, we can do that. Comment here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or e-mail me (melissa.edwards.books@gmail.com) and let’s connect.

I’m not claiming to be any kind of expert here, I just know more than I did before God opened my eyes to this need. And if you want, I’d like to share that with you. Let’s do this for them!

I’ve always been a maker of lists. Something about seeing things in a neat line with check marks next to them helps me feel accomplished, whether it’s a packing, to-do, lesson plans, or adoption.

This is a post I will make more than once as we progress through the list so you all can see where we’ve been and where we are heading. Expect it to change as we learn more about the process and circumstances change.

But for now, this is where we are.

√ Start an adoption savings account . This was the very first thing we did and we set it up so that every month money automatically gets deposited into that account. It’s a non-negotiable in our budget.

√ Restructure our spending and build a budget that we would stick to. A great friend mailed me the Dave Ramesy book after we talked about budgeting and we got started right away.

√ Pay off our cars. This was part of eliminating any additional payments.

√ Eliminate all other debt. As of now, our home is our only debt.

√ Have one stay at home parent. Leaving my career has been one of the most terrifying choices I’ve made. Knowing, however, it would be necessary to care for a special needs child.

√ Build our savings in case of emergency. This is also a part of the ‘Baby Steps’ Dave Ramsey outlines in his book.

√ Find alternate (and steady) income for me so we can continue to grow our adoption funds. I want to write a post about this separately once I feel things are certain enough to share publicly. I apologize for the vagueness and hope you understand, but God is working in BIG ways on this one, so I have checked it off.

🔲 Build a 4th bedroom in the basement. Our plan is to start this right after the holidays and it involves installing a new egress window, framing the walls and closet for drywall, running electric for outlets, installing drywall, installing flooring, adding a drop ceiling, painting, and finally moving furniture in.

🔲 Renew Visas. Essential for our adoption and the next item on our checklist.

🔲 Take one more big family vacation. We went back and forth on this one, knowing the money would help in other areas but ultimately wanting that time with our family of four before everything changes so drastically. The truth is, we don’t know what this new life will look like, and how long it will take before we find our new ‘normal’. Having a child who will be in high school during this process and quickly heading off to college, the thought that we might miss this opportunity, convinced me it was the best decision. We’ve taken honeymoons, and baby-moons, and ‘our last family of three’ vacations. This vacation seems fitting. They have (and will) all be celebratory of the strength of our family bond as it is currently, and looking forward to what we will become.

The following items are either on-going or out of order due to our lack of knowledge at this point.

🔲 Bank Vacation and Sick Days. This process, depending on what country we end up choosing, will require up to three visits. It’s a lot of time off work, so preparing for this in advance is critical.

🔲 Investigate and develop fund-raising ideas/plans and research grants. The sad fact is that an adoption like this often cost anywhere from $20,000 to $40,000 barring any complications. Is it worth it? No question. Is it terrifying? Definitely.

🔲 Investigate Medicaid for on-going medical care upon our return with our new child. This is one of those things I know will likely become part of our normal, but neither of us understand how it works just yet.

🔲 Research agencies to work with. We are hopeful that someone will be able to point us in the best direction when we are ready.

🔲 Have a Home-Study conducted.

🔲 MASSES of paperwork that I don’t understand yet. I will modify this last item once we have begun.

I mentioned in my last post that we have a time-line penciled in. We are hoping to take our ‘last family of four’ vacation Spring of 2021, with that being a kind of turning point from planning and preparing, to starting the paperwork and officially moving forward to bringing home our child. This list helps us work toward that, all the while knowing that this will all work out according to God’s plan, regardless of our intentions, our lists, or the dates we’ve penciled in on the calendar.

One thing that isn’t on this list is choosing a child. I fully believe that this path we’re on is completely, wholly, and perfectly paved by God. And when the right child, OUR child, is shown to us, we will know. And that will determine the direction we take once our initial paperwork has begun.

Our time-line spans a little over a year. Sometimes it seems too long. And sometimes it seems too short. Everyday I just pray for the calm that comes with faith. Faith in knowing our story is already written, and that it has a most beautiful ending.

There’s a thought keeps popping into my head as we plan the next few months. The next couple years. I’m just penciling it in. I’ve never actually used that phrase before but it seems awfully fitting now.

Our adoption is not penciled in. It’s written in thick black Sharpie. Unchanging.

But the rest…

The details leading up to that. Those are just penciled in. It’s us, making a plan, knowing that God’s plan might not be the same. We may be erasing our plan a time, or two, or ten, to rewrite it His way. But none the less, our plan to reach our adoption has begun to be penciled in.

The thing with penciling in these plans is that your mind starts to settle in a place where you can see the before and the after. We are now living the ‘before the adoption’ part of our life. And we also have an idea of how long this part of our life will last.

I don’t want to give the impression that I’m not excited for ‘the after’, because I know this is our path, and I also know ‘the after’ will be beautiful. However, I know our lives will be turned upside down for a while. And, if I’m being honest, I will likely miss ‘the before’ from time to time.

I find myself in this strange place of looking forward, moving forward, planning forward, but fiercely clinging to the now.

This month we celebrate my son’s thirteenth birthday. As I’m sure all of you been-there-done-that moms can relate, I’m in this hanging on phase (just call me the annoyingly frantic helicopter mom) just as he’s beginning to enter his exploring independence (aka – stop smothering me) phase. You might imagine those two don’t always mix so well.

I’m working on it. Pray for me.

While I never thought I’d be very good at being a teen parent (and I know I will still struggle), I have to admit that this is also a pretty amazing time to be his mom. Watching him slowly transition into a young man is rewarding, and frustrating, and above all, a complete and overwhelming gift. I don’t write or post about him much, not because there aren’t amazing things about him to celebrate, but because he’s old enough to care about what parts of his life are shown to the world. And he’s old enough to have his wishes respected.

This thirteenth birthday is quite the milestone in my mind, just a number I know, but a number that changes where he’s at in this journey of life. From here on out, he’s going to be figuring out the man he will become, and I’m honored to be able to help guide him, to be there when I’m needed, and to LEARN how to take a step back and meet him right where he’s at.

I saw some time ago this idea to share with our son’s thirteen things that we wanted them to know before they turned thirteen, before this milestone that marked constant change until manhood. Being a wordy girl, I thought this was a perfect idea. And so began my project of creating these thirteen text messages, one to send each of the thirteen days leading up to his birthday. Admittedly, the words were for him, the pictures, well, those were for me. I had such fun, and a few tears, reminiscing as I searched for these photos to accompany the things I want him to know.

While some of these he may gloss over, relating the words only to my ‘crazy momness’ as we say, I know him well enough to know he’ll still remember what I’ve said. And he will believe it.

I’m blessed to be living this life right now. Living ‘the before’ with a thirteen-year-old and a two-year-old, holding on to these moments with just us four, making new memories, having new experiences, changing, growing, and appreciating exactly how and where we are right now.

I’m cherishing each day until we get to the next phase penciled in on the calendar. And I’ll be blessed to live that life too.

“When everything seems to be going against you, remember the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.” ~Henry Ford

On that day when I sat in the mother’s room alone with baby J sleeping on my lap at church, I listened to my pastor talk about not just having knowledge of God, but having encounters.

Encounters.

It opened something up in me and broke me hard. That was the day I knew I could no longer ignore God and how He was calling my family to do something big. I’d struggled with doubt for years when it came to adopting and I naively thought, that after that moment, when I finally surrendered, doubt would simply disappear. God told me what to do. I was going to listen this time. So that was that!

So, so wrong.

It didn’t take but a blink, before the doubt started fighting back. And doubt, if you didn’t know, is extremely skilled in battle. Journaling, I wrote:

September 9, 2018

“It is certain, but I don’t know how.

I sat back there and I prayed for the how. How can I stay home? How can we pay off our debts? How can our marriage stand such a test? How can we physically and emotionally beat ourselves down with the hard truths and hard work of bringing a child back from a trail that leads to death. How?”

I fought back with that prayer. A prayer of fear. Of doubt.

I don’t know the how, but I know the answer. We will be going. We will bring home a child that has been thrown away by their parents and by their country. We will battle through the after effects of years of sedation, abuse, starvation, and neglect. We will come out the other side of this journey. We will love so very hard. And we will share. We will share every moment; beautiful, ugly, hard, miraculous moments…

…because God hasn’t thrown them away.

Right now though, in the waiting, doubt has many opportunities to play it’s hand. I wish I could tell you that God is leading us and therefore we are marching ahead, with blind faith and absolute certainty that settles as peace in our hearts. I wish I could tell you that.

But it would be a lie. It wouldn’t be our journey.

Instead we are pushing ahead, one step at a time, one fight at a time, desperately grasping for His goodness and reassurance while we struggle to remain faithful on a path where we cannot see beyond the next step and do not understand how we will ever reach our destination.

This week alone the struggle with doubt has been strong and at the end of it I find myself reflecting

and refocusing.

The thing with saying ‘yes’ to God is that it doesn’t all just fall into place without trials. You can’t just sit back and miraculously your debt disappears, your fourth bedroom in the basement gets finished, your adoption account gets fully funded, you get adequate time as a family of four to vacation and grow and prepare before everything turns upside down for a while. You don’t get a neat little check list that tells you what to do, how to do it, and when.

No, you have to do the work. Make the mistakes. Fail. Cry. Make plans that might not turn out. You have to CHOOSE to have faith in the plan because it doesn’t come automatically. At least not for me .

I started writing this post on Friday after dealing with a string of car issues and those familiar feelings of doubt. We’d no sooner managed to become debt free, aside from our house, when one car needed brake work. We’d no sooner built our savings back up from becoming debt free, when the other car needed brake work. Then engine problems. And here it came….

“How do we move forward with these set backs? Maybe it wasn’t the plan for me to stay home. How long will these cars even last? What is something bigger goes wrong?”

Oh, how that doubt and stress can conquer a person.

If we allow it.

The devil wears many faces and my goodness, he is good at what he does. Doubt is the face he wears for me, because he knows where I am weakest. But as strong as doubt is, God is stronger.

Again and again He’s reassured me, and this week was no different. Sunday came and I stood in the back row worshiping with my church and my family and every word I needed to hear, flooded over me that morning.

The music:

"I'm gonna see a victory
For the battle belongs to You, Lord"
~Elevation Worship

"And I will build my life upon your love 
it is a firm foundation
And I will put my trust in you alone
And I will not be shaken"
~Housefires

The message:

“If you’re under stress right now, victory is coming.”

If you’re up against something that seems impossible, maybe it’s because you’re not the one in charge.

“Stress is inevitable, being conquered by it is not.”

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. – John 16:33

How I needed church this week, almost as if the words were specifically chosen with me in mind. That’s my God.

I’d like to say that moments like this are enough to keep me from struggling with my fears, doubts, and stresses. But the truth is they are not. Not yet. As I mentioned, I’ve been here before, many times already in this journey, and each time the reassurance comes, I feel new resolve.

And each time, my weakness leads me to doubt.

I tend to believe that God is pretty okay with that. This isn’t just our adoption journey, it’s also our faith journey. And I think He’s glad we’re on both, no matter how bumpy the travels.

I do not wish you joy without sorrow, 
   Nor endless day without the healing dark, 
Nor brilliant sun without the restful shadow, 
   Nor tides that never turn against your bark. 
I wish you love, and strength, and faith, and wisdom, 
   Goods, gold enough to help some needy one.
I wish you songs, but also blessed silence, 
   And God's sweet peace when every day is done. 
                                        - Dorthy Nell McDonald

The difference in two years.

Last week was one of celebration around here. She woke up on her second birthday with a cheery, “hi” and a giggle, and upon being picked up she immediately nuzzled her face into the crook of my neck for her morning snuggles.

Across the ocean, another blonde two-year-old woke up in her crib. She didn’t speak to anyone. She didn’t snuggle. No one was there.

We had Lucky Charms for breakfast (she ate the marshmallows) and her favorite breakfast sausage while we listened to nursery rhymes at the kitchen table. That night we celebrated with chocolate cake and ice cream. She had a sugar crash and a bit of a no-nap melt down. Her daddy hugged her through it, trying to help her make sense of her new emotions.

The other little blond two-year-old stayed in her crib. All day. The nannies came and gave her a bottle. It was hard to eat and she didn’t get enough. There was never enough. She’s never known what it is to be full.

We prepped all week for her Bubble Guppies party. Even on our new budget, we wanted to make sure her day was special.

There were cute snacks, she wore her brand new Bubble Guppies shirt, we had all kinds of bubble fun, and shared an adorable cake with a family who adores her. She was showered with gifts; magnet builders, Twinkle Toes shoes, an adorable bike, giant blocks, and more.

In her crib, the little blonde girl wore clothes that didn’t match or even really fit. They didn’t belong to her. She shook a rattle that also wasn’t hers and chewed her hands. She looked at the walls and dozed in and out of sedated sleep.

At night, we changed into warm jammies, climbed up on the stool daddy made to brush our teeth. We read, Good Night Dragons for the 9,376th time, wound up her musical lion, prayed our nightly prayer, and blew kisses all the way out the door. She was asleep in minutes.

Safe.   
Loved.   
Cherished for exactly who she is. 

In her orphanage, the beautiful blonde girl continued to lay in her crib with her rattle. The few nannies bustled around, trying, failing, to care for all the children they were responsible for. Too many children. Too little food. Too little supplies. She went to sleep.

Alone.
Scared.
Hungry.
Forgotten.

Last week we celebrated our daughter; her milestones, her personality, her temper, her spunk, her love, her curiosity, her stubbornness, and her joy. Last week we celebrated a two-year-old for being EXACTLY who God created her to be.

Last week a two-year-old died alone in her crib. Last week a girl died for being EXACTLY who God created her to be.

What is the difference in two years?

A mindset.

A backwards mindset that has been instilled in a county, telling them disabilities create children who are unworthy of life and love.

Unworthy of existence.

These girl’s two years contrasted in every single way possible. They didn’t have to. We can’t change everything, but we don’t have to sit back and do nothing.

I do not feel guilty for the way we dote on our daughter, she deserves to be adored simply for being her. However, I am heartbroken for ‘Raven’. She deserved to be adored as well. I hope that her story will move the hearts of others, of you, to act.

****I do not know the exact details of Raven’s story. I know that what I wrote is common for children in her orphanage. Some of which was reported to have been her life. I know she suffered. I know she died. I know she didn’t have to.