Any regrets?

Tim and I have always gotten funny looks from people whenever we've tried to explain why we're following whatever plan God has put in front of us.  "Getting married at ages 22 and 20?"  Yep.  We've known each other for three years, received the blessings and encouragement of our families, and prayed over it at length.  "Planning a wedding during your first semester of nursing school?"  Sure, my mom will help me with most of it.  "Having a baby during your second year of nursing school?"  Why not?  I can gestate and study at the same time.  So what if I have to slide into my desk sideways?  "What do you mean your husband is leaving a stable job with health insurance and retirement benefits to go into full-time ministry?"  "You're moving where?  But Texas is 800 miles away?!"  (In retrospect, the wedding planning and the gestating came the closest to sending me to the boobie hatch.)

But none of that got us as many strange looks as when we first shared that we were planning to adopt not one but two children from Ethiopia.  "But don't you already have your own kids?"  "Didn't you just have a baby?"  "Why are you adopting from another country when there are kids here in the U.S. who need good homes?"  "How are you going to pay for them?"  "Does the state give you money to take care of them once they get here?"  (That last one left me speechless, and that's saying something.)

I wonder if the upheaval of the past few weeks has confirmed that we really are nuts to any of the people who asked those questions.  And what about now?  Do we regret starting all of this?  Do we wish that we'd never signed up for the Ethiopia program and gone straight to in-state adoption instead?  Doesn't it make us mad that we spent all that money and now we have nothing to show for it?

The answer to those last three is a resounding no.  As I write this I'm remembering a phone conversation Tim and I had just a few days ago.  We really didn't have a chance to discuss any of those questions until Tim had time to settle into his new job and finish the semester.  As we talked, he voiced the one big one that had really been eating at me.  "Did we miss something?"

When we first talked about adoption, (which was in Tim's truck while on the way to Cabela's, cause that's how we roll) we seriously considered domestic adoption through CPS because it was free, we wouldn't have to travel, and there are kids right here in Texas who need good homes.  Notice that "because God is calling us to domestic adoption" is not included in that list.  God really did call us to the Ethiopia program, even though He knew that we would eventually step back from international adoption.  He called us to surrender our old notions of who our neighbors are, and what it means to care for those who can't take care of themselves.  He asked us to love something we couldn't yet see, and to trust Him to provide the means for making it happen.  These were all things we thought we had mastered.  But when He called us to adopt, He showed us how woefully ignorant we were.  Together we cried out for God's mercy on our sinful state and asked Him to show us what we needed to do next, and next turned out to be Ethiopia.

I can hear all of you now tsk-tsk-ing and saying, "Yeah, but didn't you say you'd spent almost $10,000 dollars on the adoption so far?"  Well, yes we did.  But honestly it's not as if we'd actually have that money in our hands now if we hadn't started all of this to begin with.  The smaller bits of it ($300 for an application fee, $800 for authenticating our documents) we paid out a little bit at a time over eight months.  The larger chunks came from our income tax refund, a no-interest credit card loan that we paid off over the same eight months, and a savings account we forgot we had that was worth about $1,200.  (Okay, so we'd probably still have the $1,200.)  About another $950 came from friends and family and one anonymous donor.

Really the only things we don't have after spending all that is a couple of end tables I had my eye on, and the pictures from the vacation to Wyoming we never took.  (Remember that, honey?) Now those end tables would be in storage, and as for Wyoming, well, I guess we'll go on our next income tax refund!

Instead, we have a clearer perspective of what it means to be sons of God.  We have a better understanding of Jesus' work on the cross.  And we appreciate the strength that comes from sacrificing as we wait for God's will to be accomplished.  Those are all things that are worth way more than $10,000. Do we wish that we could've worked all that out through prayer without actually spending all that money? Well, yeah I guess so. But when was the last time God just gave you the heart change you needed without actually walking you through the growth process it usually takes to get there? Whether it's a testament to the powerful nature of sin, or some hard-headedness unique to my husband and me, God almost always walks us through the steps rather than giving us some sort of angel-in-a-dream-like revelation.  So, no.  We have no regrets.

P.S.--I wonder how long it will take my husband to call me and ask, "Can we REALLY still go to Wyoming?!"

Praying through our options.

The past week has been all about fact-finding and discussion.  Fact-finding on dozens of websites and through at least half a dozen emails with caseworkers.  Discussion after discussion between Tim and I as we've learned more and more about domestic adoption.  (Bless him.  My husband has been ever so patient with my need to talk all of this out, even as he's been starting a new job and preparing for finals.)

Certain options were easy to dismiss, such as agency assisted newborn adoption.  Birthmothers aren't likely to pick a couple that already has two kids.  It's also very expensive.  We also aren't where we can adopt internationally from another country other than Ethiopia.  (An option we toyed with.  Very, very briefly.  For like five minutes.)  Other IA programs are even more expensive than Ethiopia and require more travel time.  That's something we really can't manage with work and school.

Adoption through the foster care system, either in Texas or another state, is definitely our best choice.  And we really feel a peace about it.  One bit of very good news is that Gladney's New Beginnings program can prepare us with all the training we'll need, do our home study, and assist us with getting matched with a child in need of a family.  It's also completely free.

The only hitch is that they very rarely place toddlers or infants.  They specialize in placing children over the age of five, those with medical needs, sibling groups, or minority children (that last one makes me want to breakdown and cry whenever I think about it).  In other words, the kids for which the state has a hard time finding permanent homes.

We were all set to adopt two kids under the age of four.  I really wanted littles, and now my husband was saying why not adopt an older child?  A girl?  She and Evey could share a room.  I realized that once again I was holding on to my expectations rather than submitting to God's will and His plans for growing our family.  

We still don't know how all of this is going to unfold.  But I do know this:  when Evey was around two years old, I caught baby fever again.  I prayed over and over that God would give us peace about trying for another baby.  He didn't, so we didn't.  Not until Evey was six years old did we get pregnant with Dash, and the Lord's timing was perfect, as it always is.  I love my son and I'm so thankful that God put him in our lives exactly when he did, but since he was born I've felt like there was a something missing in those seven years that separate him from Evey.  Could it be that there's a little sister out there who He's planning on sliding right into that age gap?  I don't know.  I could be completely off base.  But it is something we're praying over.

Please continue to pray with us as we ask God to show us His perfect will for growing our family!

A fresh start.

This is my adoption notebook.  There are many like it, but this one is mine.  (You get extra points if you know which movie I'm ripping off there.)

It was full of all manner of things for Ethiopian adoption.

Now it's been gutted of everything except a few pieces of paperwork we might be able to reuse.  

Since Monday, I've been slowly letting go of all my previous expectations of how adoption was going to happen for the Wheeless family.  We fully expected to adopt two kids under the age of four.  They were going to have brown skin, big dark eyes, and black hair.  Whenever the waiting became difficult, I would try to picture them in my head.  I was visualizing the goal.  A referral.  A court date.  Travel to Ethiopia.  Meeting our kids.  Travel again.  An embassy appointment.  Bringing them home.

I was wrong.  The goal isn't adding two little brown faces to our family.  The goal is orphan care and the realization of James 1:27 in our lives.  (Religion that is pure an undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.)  I hadn't completely lost sight of that, but the edges had started to blur a little bit.  I grieved for about four hours, then started steadily asking God to show us our next step.  

Since then I've gotten some great advice from several adoptive moms from the Gladney Ethiopia Yahoo group.  Many of them have been around the block with different types of adoption, and are a wealth of information and support.

My expectations are gone.  My notebook is empty.  Bring on the paperwork!

Recap of "A Simple Plan."

In light of everything that's happened this week, I thought this blog post from December 13, 2011 was worth posting again:

That's what I had about this time four years ago.  A simple plan.  I was going to get pregnant with our second child.  We were going to move off campus to a larger apartment.  Tim was going to pursue his master's degree.  I was going to continue to work part-time and homeschool Evey.

I did get pregnant in February of 2008.  And on March 31st I learned from my doctor that I'd had a miscarrriage.  Suddenly my simple plan had imploded, and the hole that was left behind filled up with grief.  I was definitely "in my stable."  I didn't care about making plans anymore, which was a good thing because what was left of my previous one was about to evaporate.  We left SWBTS for Houston, committed to buying a house, and sank our teeth into youth ministry.  I did eventually get pregnant again, nine months after the previous baby was conceived.

When Dash was born, I grieved all over again.  Why couldn't I have had them both, Lord?  Sure I would've been having babies one right after the other, but isn't that preferrable to losing one all together?  In my mind I could see God surveying me and silently shaking His head.  I knew that if  I'd carried that first baby to term, Dash would never have been born.  I never would've gotten pregnant one month after giving birth.  I probably wouldn't have even let Tim kiss me goodnight one month after giving birth.

I work and pray at my children's spiritual education.  I ask God daily to call Dash to salvation at an early age, and I give Him all the glory for having already called Evey.  But I have another child that I've never seen and won't see until I leave this world for the next.  I'll never have to worry over his spiritual education.  I'll never agonize over the possibility of him spending an eternity in hell, separated from God.  If I'd had my way, I would've held him and loved him and raised him just as I'd planned.  But I wouldn't have Dash.  And every day that I look at his red head and blue eyes, God reminds me that if I'd had my way, Dash would've never been born.

Someone once said, "God laughs while you make plans."  (I think that was in season one of The Walking Dead.  Love that show.)  I still make plans.  If I didn't no one in this house would have clean underwear.  (Some days that's still hit or miss.)  But I do it with a lot more humility than I did three years ago, and I try to remember all that I would've missed if I'd always gotten my way.

Today I plan to do laundry, shower, go to the store, and start packing.  We are planning to move back to SWBTS, after all.  Keep reading to find out about what God has in store for us.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.  Jeremiah 29:11

Numbing shock.

It's been a very long 24 hours.

At this time yesterday I received an email from our caseworker informing us of an increase in both agency and in-country fees.  She told us we would be required to pay the increase before being allowed to join the waiting list again.

To be fair, we were informed at the time we came off the list that this might happen, but the amount was significantly more than we ever thought it would be.  That's partly due to the fact that they've done away with their ministerial payment schedule with its discounted agency fees, and partly due to an increase in in-country costs.

At this time, only families wanting to be put back on the waiting list are being asked to pay more money, not families who are currently waiting for referrals.

After learning last week of wait times of 2+ years for siblings, Tim and I had decided to only pursue a single child adoption from Ethiopia and then work on adopting domestically.  The only hitch with that is that it would've decreased the amount of adoption assistance from our employee benefits programs.  With the increased fees and decreased assistance we were left with a difference of $9,250.

There's more, but I'm really not up to explaining it all right now and I don't want to risk sounding bitter (which I'm really not).

Long story short:  we're praying for God to show us His perfect will in this situation, and we're investigating domestic adoption.

P.S.--Yesterday was Tim's first day at his new job.  To fully appreciate that irony, scroll down and read last Wednesday's post.

Random Friday.

What's harder?  Picking up a burden, or laying it at the feet of the All Sufficient Savior?  I'll give you three guesses as to the right answer, but you're only going to need one.

Yesterday I mentioned that I really thought that when we came off the waiting list last September that God was closing the door on Ethiopian adoption for the Wheeless clan.  But as I look back, I realize that's not exactly true.

We had waited for eleven months.  Eleven months of changes in travel requirements.  Eleven months of administration upheaval at MOWCYA.  Eleven months of slowed processing, paperwork backlogs, agency staff changes, and orphanage closures.  And let's not forget that big mysterious investigation that we still aren't allowed to know anything about.

After duking it out through some of the deepest self-doubt and toughest spiritual warfare I have yet to encounter, I wore that eleven months like a battle scar.

Then all of a sudden, there's God saying, "It's time to put this down for a little while.  You'll have to pick it back up again soon, and when you do there'll be more paperwork, more waiting, and more heartache.  I never promised you this would happen on your timetable.  Trust my timing or face financial peril!"

But I had made it eleven whole months for crying out loud!  (Of which I did plenty.)

When I talked to our case worker on Tuesday, she told me the longest waiting family requesting siblings has been on the list for 21 months.  If we had stayed on the list, we would've been waiting 19 months as of last Sunday.

Do you know what we would likely have right now if we had not followed God's prompting and stayed on the waiting list?  A referral.  Or, at least we'd be very close to one.

Do you know what else we would have?  Debt.  Huge gobs of money of on a credit card or two.  Money for in-country fees, airline tickets, hotel rooms, and food.  Times two.

We would also have stress.  Shoulder-tightening, acid-churning, unable-to-focus-on-anything-other-than-where-is-the-next-credit-card-payment-coming-from kind of stress.  Stress from newly started jobs.  Stress from bosses who can't give us the time off work needed to travel.  Stress on the two children we already have.

But instead of overwhelming debt and stress, we have the Lord's timing.  We have our All Sufficient Savior patiently growing us up and healing us of our broken-ness in sin through a process that is all about seeking His healing in a broken and miserable world.

"Lay it down, gently.  It's not the burden of waiting that you're laying down.  It's your own broken-ness."

I didn't think that God was completely closing the door on adoption for us last September.  But a very little part of me hoped He was because at the time I couldn't imagine putting down the burden of waiting while knowing I would have to face picking it up again so soon, within a year.

Now, as we start the process of getting our home study updated so we can jump back on the waiting list, I find the yoke easy and the burden light.

I've lost something.

But it isn't time spent waiting.

The big, huge, wonderful, exciting news.

Oh, where do I even start?!  The last week has given me enough to blog about for a month.  I'll try to pace myself and not overwhelm you with too many details.

Here's the gist.  After months of  prayer and trusting in God's plan for our family, we are finally ready to take the next step in our Ethiopian adoption process!  How?  My husband got a full-time job as the assistant to the Dean of the School of Theology here at SWBTS, that's how!  His income will provide what we need to complete the adoption of two siblings, and will then make it possible for me to work part-time instead of full-time.  It's also an awesome professional opportunity for him since he'll be working under his mentor as he eventually pursues a Ph.D. in preaching.  Whew.  God is good.  All the time.

For the last 24 hours I've barely been able to focus on anything because of my amazement at how the Lord has shaped everything from our living situation to Tim's personal and professional contacts to bring us to this point.  Last September when I wrote this post, I really thought moving to Fort Worth meant the end of all the hard work and waiting we'd put into adopting from Ethiopia.  Instead, it's helped us to simplify the way we live so that we have more opportunities to give and save.  It's given us a wonderfully supportive community that's literally right at our back door (not that we lacked supportive friends in Houston).  But mostly it's made room in our hearts and our minds as we prepare to serve God's kingdom in an even deeper capacity than we have before.

As I write this post, I'm awestruck that God would give us all of this (not based on our own merit, but on His grace) and yet He still seems to be giving us the desire of our hearts by providing us with a way to bring two new kids into our family through adoption.

Please continue to pray with us.  There's more to come soon!