Fearless Surrender

Surrender.

Let go.

Be open.

These are words that I've been grappling with in my heart the last few weeks. Words that I know all too well can make or break the big decisions in my life. 

If you've been around this little space very long, you know I'm a self-professed control freak. I've made no secret of the fact that I'm a big fan of making my own plans and just praying that God will approve of them. In my own head, I am the expert on me and know what's best for me. I know what feels safe and comfortable, and I do not let go of my comfort zone or security easily. After all, I am the one who has to deal with the consequences of my choices, right? Why would I want to let that go?

But lately? Every time I sit down to write or listen to a podcast or read, I seem to be hit from all sides with the word surrender.

Truth: I'm a planner by nature. But not the type of planner who gets caught up in the details. I used to be, back in the days where I wrote out my plan for the day to the minute, including snack breaks and travel time to and from events. (No, I'm not joking. I actually did that for many years in college.) 

Nowadays, I'm more of a vision girl. I like the big picture. I tend to live in a constant state of "What's next?" and have been told on more than one occasion that I can get tunnel-vision when I'm knee-deep in a project. If you need to get something accomplished, I'm your girl. I won't eat, won't sleep, won't stop until I've moved from point A to point B. The problem with that in my life right now, above and beyond the incessant needs of all my little people, is that I have no idea what my life is going to look like in a year. 

And truthfully? 

That's scaring me out of my mind.

In high school, I was dreaming about college.

In college, I was dreaming about starting my career.

In my first year job, I was dreaming about getting married.

On our honeymoon, I was dreaming having a family.

On my son's first birthday, I was dreaming about giving him a sibling.

Once his sister was over her 12 MONTH episode of colic (yes, it actually did last a full year), we began praying about adoption.

Once Brooks came home, we began the process to build a house.

Do you see the pattern?

I've spent the last 20 years dreaming of what's next.

And now, we're blissfully moving through our life as a family of five with no planned changes on the horizon, and I find myself literally paralyzed with fear at times because I don't know what's ahead.        

I know for many people, this would be a state of bliss. It would feel like a moment to breathe and soak in the present and slow down for a lot of you. Some days, I see it that way; others, I fight to feel like I have purpose.

So I find myself in a season of surrender. 

I don't know what's ahead for me. Is God calling me to a new job? Is He calling me to simply take a seat at the table I've spent the last 15 years building and soak it all in? Does He have something ahead that isn't even on my radar yet? 

As hard as this season is, I know that opening my hands to what He has in store for my future is all I can do. He's asking me to tap the breaks, to trust, and to believe that His plans are good...even if my control issues want me to take the helm now more than ever. 

So, for now, I'm letting go of that white-knuckle grip on my trajectory and opening my heart to this next chapter. It doesn't have a title yet, but I know it'll be one for the books.    

A Sorta Post-Adoption Update

So, I really had no intention at all of writing many post-adoption posts after our first year home with Brooks, but everyone who knows our family in real life has been commenting lately on just how much he's changed and grown over the last few months that I just feel like this is a little bit necessary for documentation purposes! 

Before I dive in to where we are today, I want to take a look back at my last post-adoption update which was at one year home...actually, scratch that...it was at 9 months home...because apparently I'm not good at the consistency thing. ;) 

At that point, Brooks was 22 pounds, stringing two, sometimes three, words together, had just been weaned off his steroids for asthma, and was about to start preschool for the first time.

Oh, how times have changed.

On January 6, we celebrated 397 days with Brooks in our family. He spent 396 days without one, so as of that day, we could say he had been a beloved son longer than he was in an orphanage. Praise God. 

Nowadays, not only has this boy FILLED OUT in a serious way (I'd bet he's upwards of 25 pounds), but we now have full conversations with him asking questions and speaking in almost sentences that consist of several (up to 8ish) words. He talks like a caveman but for not quite two-and-a-half, we're pretty dang impressed! 

Examples I heard today:

 "Me say night-night Carter Kate-Kate."  

"What you doing now Mommy?"

"Me go gym with Carter and Mommy." 

"What happened, Daddy?" 

"Me happy when we jump outside. With Carter. And Kate Kate. And Daddy. And Mommy. Everybody jump!" 

And my absolute favorite:

"How you doin?" 

Yes, he actually says that. I'm raising a future Joey Tribbiani. 

Hearing his little thoughts and having little conversations with this guy is such an absolute joy. 

Sweet story from today: my kids like to play "Magic Eight Ball," which basically means they roll an Eight Ball back and forth and sing this song Kate made up until someone ends up with it. That person makes a wish and asks the eight ball for an answer. No lie - every single time it ends up with Brooks making a wish, he wishes for someone in our family. "Me want Mommy. Me want Daddy. Me want Carter and Kate Kate." It literally makes me want to cry every time. And no matter what that dang eight ball actually says, I tell him he got it. Forever. And every time I tell him that, he says, "Hooray!" and asks for hugs. I mean...I die. 

So, let's chat school since that hasn't really been talked about in this space yet. I'm going to do another whole post on how we transitioned him into preschool, why we did it when we did, and our experience with that, but today, five months into preschool, this little guy is rockin' it. He knows his class, he loves his teachers, and he thrives on the routine of it. Tonight, he was listing all of the friends' names in his class (and some are really difficult to say!), and he was talking about how excited he was to see them tomorrow. 

And as backwards as this might sound, I actually think putting him in preschool has strengthened our attachment. Because here's the thing: a child's brain learns through repetition. If you've ever watched a young child play, they typically repeat patterns over and over and over again. Or they sing the same song over and over and over again. As annoying as that can be to parents, that's actually doing what they need to do: learning! So, although it might sound odd that dropping him off in a classroom three days a week would strengthen our attachment, he's finding security in the repetition of drop-off and pick-up. Mom leaves, Mom comes back. Mom leaves, Mom comes back. Mom leaves, Mom comes back. Over and over and over again. We are so proud of how well he's transitioned. 

The last thing that we've really seen develop lately is this boy's incredible sense of compassion. If anyone is laying down, upset, hurt, or crying, this little guy is the FIRST to go pat them on the back, ask them what happened, or tell them that "it's okay." He gives lots of hugs, hands out ice packs and bandaids, and loves the mess out of his people. I really don't know where that came from, but it is my very favorite thing about him right now. He's a special one.

Okay, that's it for today. Happy Tuesday, y'all!