I Think I Want to Adopt...Now What?!

So, let's get real for a second. I know one thing to be true...you're only really here for the baby. 

It's fine. I understand. He's squishy and funny and perfectly adorable and you really don't care about little old me. It's okay. I've made my peace with it. Give the people what they want, right? 

After we brought Brooks home, I made my Instagram account public because I wanted more people to realize the gift and joy that adoption can be. Is it hard? Absolutely. Is it easy? Not even a little bit. But is it worth it? Would I do it again? 150% yes.

Reading the adoption stories of other families is what ultimately led us to jump off the high dive into this uncharted territory, and I thought if I could help catalyze other families to take the leap, that allowing the internet to see my children every now and then was worth that. So I did it. I know not everyone believe that's the right thing to do, but here's what I know now: God is using our story to bring more orphans into families.

Over the last few months, these are some actual messages and emails I've gotten:

"Your post about Brooks being 'just a little boy' helped my husband find the courage to say yes."

"Your adoption story makes me feel like we could actually do this someday. It's not just a pipe dream anymore."

"My husband thought special needs meant our child would never walk or go to school or live a normal life. Watching Brooks walk and talk and play like a normal kid changed his mind."

It is an absolute honor to get help families navigate those early fears as they consider adoption, so I wanted to take just a few minutes today to speak to those of you who are just peering over that edge, unsure as to whether or not you will take the plunge. 

I'm going to break this post up into five major questions that seem to be brought to me repeatedly and address those, but please, if you want to hear my thoughts or perspective on other things, please feel free to reach out!

1) Where do I begin?

This is the number one question I hear all the time. It's so overwhelming and there seem to be so many different ways to adopt that we don't know where to start.

And this is always my answer: start in prayer. 

Every single step of this adoption journey, every single decision should be guided by prayer first. As my husband and I began to pray about adoption, we first felt a peace about international adoption, specifically from Asia, but narrowing it down to China took us months. At one point, we thought we were going to go the South Korea route, but that door was quickly closed for us. We considered Vietnam, Taiwan, China, the Philippines, and others, but it seemed like the Lord kept leading us back to China. Follow that lead if you feel it in your gut...it usually won't lie to you.

Okay, and second...talk with an agency. After prayer, you'll need to figure out what adoption programs you qualify for. There are age, income, and health requirements for all the different programs, and you'll want to chat with someone who can help guide you in that regard. It would be devastating to get your heart set on a program to only find out you don't qualify for it.

2) How am I going to afford this?

This is the second most common question I get, and the truth to this one is this: it depends on your program. If you feel called to foster care, there are very minimal costs involved at all. If you feel called to international adoption, the cost really depends on the country. Some countries are more expensive because you have to travel there multiple times. Domestically speaking, prices can vary based on whether or not you go through an attorney or an agency.

All that aside, I truly believe that God provides for those He calls to this road. There are so many options for families in the adoption process. You can host fundraisers, accept private donations, apply for grants, or just spend some time on your budget and start saving. Personally, I started teaching two days a week at my children's preschool, started a small business, sold t-shirts, and we were fortunate enough to receive some grant money. It wasn't easy, but we did it debt-free with some hard work. Although I absolutely understand the fear of this piece, I truly believe this should not be the sole reason families don't walk this road. If this is your hang-up, I'd love to brainstorm with you!

**Also, please know this - you are not paying for a child. No lie: I've been asked, in his presence, how much Brooks cost. I did not buy him. I know that sounds crazy to say out loud, but you'd be amazed at what people will ask you. You are paying legal fees, agency fees, travel fees, document processing fees, and the like. You are NOT paying for a child.**

3) Can I parent a child with special needs?

First of all, let's clarify what this even means. There are many international adoption programs who only make children with "special needs" eligible for adoption. China is one of those countries. This is such a huge umbrella term in the adoption world. This can range from something as minor as low birth weight, premature birth, or anemia all the way up to Down Syndrome, Spina Bifida, Cerebral Palsy, missing limbs, etc. This is a very personal piece to the puzzle that I can't really advise you on. You have to know your limitations and what you can or cannot handle in terms of medical care. I would advise that you sit down with a pediatrician and talk through medical conditions that you're comfortable with and again...PRAY. This is a huge decision so just like I said above, prayer needs to play a huge role in this part.

4) Will we be able to love a kid that isn't "ours?"

I'll be honest: this was my biggest fear. I prayed like mad that God would give me a supernatural love for this little boy who shared exactly zero DNA with me, but would call me mommy. For me, it was love at first sight when they placed Brooks in my arms, BUT, that's definitely not always the case. I have several friends who have adopted and had to work very hard at attachment...on both sides. I've heard from lots of women that this is more of a male hang-up than a female hang-up, but I really do believe that God gives you a love for your adopted child that is just as deep as your biological children. I truly have days where I forget he wasn't born to me. He is just as much "mine" as my bio kids. Attachment and bonding is a journey, and it can sometimes take lots of time and strategy, but it is absolutely possible to feel as much love for an adopted child as a biological one. 

5) How do I get my husband on board?

I saved this one for last because my answer is not typically what people want to hear. Sorry to be Debbie Downer, but I truly believe that both spouses need to be ALL IN to walk this road successfully. Now, with that said, there are absolutely times when one spouse "drives the train" so to speak. But at the end of the day, if you aren't both on the same page and both wanting this child in your family, I truly don't think you're a good candidate for an adoption. 

Now, with that said, I do believe that prayer and time can absolutely change hearts. If this is something you feel strongly called to do, but your husband isn't on board yet, I would encourage you to give it some time and pray. 

If this is a road God has chosen for your family, He will bring your husband around in His timing. I'll say that again: HIS timing.  

That might not be tomorrow or next month or next year, but if this is meant to be, it will be when you're both ready to walk it. 

 I hope this has been helpful for those of you beginning this journey. Adoption is not for everyone, and it's not always easy, but it can bring so much joy and love into a family. If you have further questions or would like to chat further, my door is always open. You can DM me on Instagram (@allisonezell) or email me: awezell@gmail.com. 

Happy Wednesday, friends! 

Brooks at 2 1/2

This morning, we had Brooks's 2 1/2 year check-up, and it dawned on me that this was probably a good time to blog a few things about him at this age that I want to remember. So, for no other reason that my own memory preservation, here are ten things about this incredible little boy that I want to remember about him at 2 1/2 years old. Let's go!

1. Pronouns are hard.

One of my favorite things about two-year-olds is their Caveman-speak. I hear a lot of "Me do it" or "Me have one" or "Me want that." As much as the grammar snob in me wants to correct it, I've been around this block enough times to know that it's fleeting, so I'm HIGHLY encouraging the "me" to stick around. ;) He will occasionally get the "I" part correct...but more often than not, he talks as "me." 

2. Kidz Bop is his JAM.
Specifically, Kidz Bop 37 is his jam. Current obsessions include "How Long," "Havana" (which he affectionately calls Havana Na Na), and "Mi Gente." We made the catastrophic mistake of buying the CD at Target a few weeks ago in an attempt to save our data in the car, and the minute we buckle him in that car seat, he demands, "Play How Long!" It was cute at first...not so much four weeks in...sigh.

3. He has some mean dance moves.

Building on number two, he throws down some wicked moves when we turn those songs on the TV upstairs. He can jump, spin, and bounce with the best of 'em. My favorite is the head bob.

4. He is an engineer. Or doctor. Okay, or ice cream man.

His favorite toys currently are the doctor kit, the magna-tiles, or his ice cream truck. You can find this boy either building a house, giving someone a check-up, or asking "What do you want?" from his ice cream truck at nearly every hour of the day. I'm praying that we further pursue one of his first two options... 

5. He loves his people.
The first thing this sweet boy does when he comes downstairs in the morning or after a nap is assess the room. He wants to know who is here, who is missing, and where his people are. He is NOT a fan of anyone in the group being missing. Ever. His ideal world includes all five of us...all the time. It's the sweetest thing.

6. He has some wicked gymnastics ability.

So, I noticed out the window earlier this week that he has figured out a little front handspring-type move, 100% on his own. He bounces on his knees first and then flips over forward. We absolutely did not teach him this, nor can his big brother or sister do it. I'm going to go ahead and call this one a gymnast - what do you think?

7. He still naps like a pro.

Fun fact: Brooks is legitimately the ONLY child in his preschool class that takes a nap every single day. There is one other that occasionally naps, too, but Brooks naps every single day for at least an hour. With my older two, this was an age where naps were either dropped entirely or became a battle. Not with this one. He is the best little sleeper!

8. He's a peanut.

We had a well-check earlier this week, and despite my 100% confidence that he would've jumped up past the fifth percentile for weight...we did not. We stayed exactly the same. He is in the fifth percentile for weight and 15th for height. We are still in 12-18 month pants and 18-24 month tops, occasionally a 2T shirt if it's cute enough to wear a little big. He seems a little bit stockier and filled out to me, but percentiles don't lie, so apparently we're still a peanut. (I secretly love it!) 

9. He is not a fan of any meat other than pepperoni.
Don't even bother offering this kid chicken or turkey or beef - he'll have none of it. Pepperoni or nothin' for this kid. It's so very healthy. Except not.

10. His favorite place is on the kitchen counter.
I pray that he still feels at home enough to hop up on our counter when he's 25. It's my favorite spot to chat with him. :)

This little boy is just so special, and I cannot wait to see what BIG and beautiful things God has planned for his life. Love you, sweet boy!

Why You Need Margin, Mama

I was recently reading a poll of sorts in a Facebook group that asked the ladies there how often they have time away from their kids. And by that, she didn't mean the hour after they've gone to bed where you sprawl out on the couch with Netflix or Instagram. (Although all the praise hands for that hour in the day, am I right?) And she didn't mean the 15 minutes before they wake up where you chug your coffee and speed-read Beth Moore so you can check "quiet time" off your list for the day.

What this question was getting at the heart of was margin. This friend of mine was asking a group of trusted, wise women how often they create margin in their lives in order to get things done or relax or pursue passions outside of the family. 

The answers astounded me.

The majority of the women who responded had NONE. Other than those 15 minutes before the kids get up and the hour after they go to bed, about 80% of the women who responded had no more than their time in the bathroom or their time taking a shower away from their kids. And let's be real - those kids are either prying their grubby fingers under the bathroom door or standing just outside the shower glass during either of those tasks, so in my book, neither of those count.

My answer was a little bit different than most because this year, I gave myself a gift: Wednesdays from 9-2.

The truth is that I need to work at least a little bit at my kids' preschool because two in preschool on a single income is HARD. So, for the first time in three years, there is one day a week where the kids are all in school for 5 blessed hours, and I am free as a bird. Some Wednesdays, I am super productive: in those five hours, I run every errand known to mankind, hit the gym, get my nails done, grab an oil change, and use all 300 minutes I'm given to their utmost potential. One Wednesday, I sat in a coffee shop, brainstormed blog post ideas, and wrote my little heart out. Other Wednesdays, I crawl under a big ole blanket on my couch with a hot cup of coffee and binge Grey's Anatomy. 

And you know what?

I am a better mom to my three kiddos for it.

On the surface, the idea that leaving my children for five hours in childcare makes me a better mom can sound hypocritical, so let's dissect this a bit.

When Carter was six months old, my husband and I started marriage counseling. We had only been married about a year and a half, but the stress of working (at that point) full-time, being still somewhat newlyweds, struggling with managing our finances, and oh yeah, having a baby less than a year into marriage was just too much for us both. We were fighting like crazy, both feeling angry and resentful and like the other partner wasn't doing their part to balance this whole charade. 

The burnout I was feeling was all over my face, and I remember our therapist asking me what I was doing in my life that made me happy. I'm fairly certain I must've looked at her as if she had just grown a unicorn horn. I was completely and utterly confused by this question. I thought, "Who has time for that right now, lady? I'm swimming upstream everyday managing what I have...how can I possibly add in time for me?!" 

But she said something to me that day that has stuck with me for years - something I absolutely believe at the core of my being to be true. Yes, she said, you are a wife and a mother and a teacher, but you are also a woman and a friend and a daughter, and just because you entered motherhood doesn't mean those roles went away.

I heard it described another way at church one Sunday when our pastor was preaching on margin. That's the first time I was really able to define this important piece of our lives that so many women seem to be completely ignoring. Our pastor was speaking of financial margin - in other words, understanding your financial boundaries and living within those limitations with room to spare.

Women, we have got to live our lives with room to spare.

We pour out and pour out and pour out and serve and serve and serve some more, but the sad reality is that so many of us are serving up empty glasses. We simply have nothing left to pour out anymore because we are not pouring IN to ourselves by living our lives with margin. We are filling every single square inch of our lives with our children and our obligations and we're forgetting ourselves in the mix.

 Here's the hard thing: the truth is that the math of margin sometimes doesn't add up. We can't afford to send our children to preschool an extra day or we have no extra funds that would allow us to bring in a babysitter for a few hours or we have circumstances in our lives that don't allow us to be away from our children due to special needs. I get it, I really do. I spent ten straight months with Brooks when he first came home from China because we needed to bond and attach to each other. In that particular season, I had to get very creative about finding margin. I had to go meet girlfriends for dinner after he had gone to bed and didn't even know I was gone. Or I had to get up super early to hit the 6am yoga class while he still couldn't handle the gym childcare. Or I had to stay up into the wee hours of the morning to get that blog post written. 

Sometimes, it's not always as clear-cut as a Wednesday from 9-2. 

But whatever margin looks like for you, I would encourage you to find it. Nope, let's rephrase that.  I would encourage you to create it.  

Finding margin isn't easy and it can take work. I remember talking to a sweet mama at a MOPS meeting a few weeks ago about margin, and she looked at me like I was crazy when I shared about my Wednesdays and how healthy they've been for me. I could tell she didn't quite understand my need for this mental health break, so I turned the question back on her and asked what she would do with five hours to herself every week. She shook her head, her eyes welled up, and she said, "I don't know. I think I'd spend the whole time crying and missing my kids." 

Ladies, there is so much more to this season of your life than those tiny people you raise. Yes, you're a mother, and that's an incredible thing, likely something you've dreamed about since you were a little girl. BUT! BUT! Don't lose who God made you to be in the chaos of it all. He created you with unique talents and gifts and planted dreams in you that you've likely forgotten in your sleep-deprived, yoga-pants, overly caffeinated state. But, I have a feeling, if you dig hard enough, you'll find them. They'll be dusty and may even be broken, but they're still there.

You're still you. 

  I don't know about you, but I really don't want to stand before God when I get to heaven and say, "Sorry, man. I know you gave me this incredible gift that I totally wasted, but I was just so tired from all the babies."

You still have purpose. 

I'd encourage you to dig up that dream you had when you were eight. Dust it off. Revisit what it could look like for you today. It'll likely look different, but I bet the fire is still there. 

And if nothing else, I'd encourage you to carve out some space this month for margin. Give yourself an hour. Put me to the test. See what it could do for your soul. My bet? You'll return refreshed, focused, and better able to pour into those little people you love so much because you took time to pour in to YOU.  

NEDA Week: Body Image & Young Children

It's National Eating Disorders Week - a week to raise awareness and educate the public about these devastating and often fatal mental health issues. For those of you who are new to this blog space, I don't talk about it often, but I fought like hell for five years with an eating disorder that eventually landed me in heart failure. I'm not proud of it, and it's not something that's easy to talk about or wins me many fans, but that journey and that struggle is part of my testimony, so I own it. I worked hard to recover and move on, and by the grace of God (and thanks to an incredible team of therapists), I did.

I can finally say it no longer defines me, and I no longer feel shame in talking about it. I'm so thankful that anorexia was simply one chapter of many in my life. I was able to move on and turn a page to a new chapter, unlike so many women who fall victim to this terrible disease. Anorexia is the most fatal of all mental illnesses, and this week is a week to shed light on it.

It's time to talk about this.

If you haven't already read my full story, you can do so HERE. 

My battle may have been fought 15 years ago, but I daily have to make choices to ensure my family and I stay healthy. I've been reflecting a little bit lately on how I'm actively working to cultivate healthy body image, both in myself and in my children.

Being a mom, especially a young girl mom, the truth of the matter is that these issues start YOUNG. Like, REALLY young. So, I've been very strategic about the way I talk about food, exercise, and health since my children were born, and I thought it might be time to put it out there in the world. My prayer is that these action steps might help us re-frame the little things we do every day that can add up to big impact for our kids.  

Here's the scary truth: studies tell us that by the time a girl has turned 6, she will say that her ideal body size is smaller than her current frame. 

SIX. 

That's Kindergarten, y'all. My Kindergartener still sleeps with a monkey blanket every night, has Goofy on a shelf, and spills his milk at least three nights a week. These kids are straight babies, you guys.

I don't know about you, but I'm not about to go down this road without a fight. 

Another scary truth: I don't really think eating disorders can be prevented. At least, not FULLY prevented.

Recently, scientists have discovered that there is a genetic link to eating disorders, which can be a really scary fact for someone like me. BUT, here's what I know: just because my children may be more LIKELY to develop eating disorders than children whose mothers didn't have one, that doesn't mean I can't try to set them up for success. I can educate them and nurture them to develop a healthy relationship with food and their bodies in order to possibly prevent them from walking the road I walked. 

So, let's get practical...I am by no means a medical professional, but I do think there are some action steps we can take NOW, while our kiddos are still mold-able, that will shape their futures.

ACTION STEP: Drop the black and white talk.

No, I'm not talking about race here. What I mean by drop the black and white talk is to drop the notion that certain foods are either all GOOD or all BAD. Drop the labels. I think many of our children grow up in homes where parents are living in extremes - they hear their parents talk of being "good" when they're dieting or being "bad" when they're cheating. When parents bemoan their unhealthy choices or make comments about how they have to punish themselves at the gym for eating so poorly the night before, children begin to feel that they are bad people for eating certain foods. We need our children to understand that what they eat and who they are are mutually exclusive. 

So, my encouragement here would be to re-frame the language. The truth is that unless you have food allergies or specific dietary restrictions, all foods can and should be enjoyed in moderation. Let's ditch this all or nothing mentality. Instead, I suggest we talk positively about what healthy food and exercise do for us. Rather than complain about our jeans feeling tight, let's emphasize how we feel so energetic after running that 5K or taking that yoga class. Rather than whining about how our "bad" lunch at Chick-fil-A makes us bloated, let's talk about how sweet that apple tasted or how that salad gave me vitamins to make me strong. Let's highlight our positive choices for the ways they make us feel and what they do for us, rather than focusing on the negative choices we've made. 

ACTION STEP: Focus on strength for adults and growth for kids.

One of my absolute favorite things to talk about with my kids is how strong they are. Nothing gets my boys more fired up than showing off their muscles. We talk a lot in our house about how healthy food, exercise, and sleep helps us grow big and strong. Brooks has even picked up on it already, and after eating a carrot yesterday, walked over to me and said, "Me go up up up, higher and higher, right Mama?" He beamed with pride when I assured my tiniest boy that yes, his carrots did make him grow bigger and taller. (Just nobody tell him he's still in the second percentile for height, mmmm-kay?) When my kids step on the scale in the bathroom or at the doctor's office, never have I not cheered for them. No matter what that thing says, we celebrate it because it shows us how much we've grown. And when they want me to step on that scale for them? You'd better believe I join in their cheering, no matter what number I'm looking at or what the insecurities are telling me.

Two or three times a week, we head up to our neighborhood gym to work out (okay, okay, and to use the free childcare...), and I'm often asked by the little two why we have to come to the gym. And every single week, my answer is the same: because exercise keeps Mommy healthy and strong. Never once have I said anything about weight or my jeans or how much queso I ate the night before. I may have had those reasons in my head, but you'd better believe I wasn't planting those seeds for my kids.

All they need to know at this young age is that exercise is healthy and makes us strong. Period. Don't make it complicated. Because truthfully? It's not.

ACTION STEP: Eat meals and exercise as a family. 

You saw this one coming a mile away, didn't you? But, y'all, it's SO true! Going on family walks or bike rides is not only great for bonding, but it's so good for cultivating a healthy view of exercise! When you're going on a walk as a family to the park or exploring a new hiking path together, there's a sense of adventure and fun there. We WANT our kiddos to find exercise fun! It shouldn't be seen as punishment! I can tell you right now, having a child with limited mobility due to a broken leg, that the chance to walk or ride around the neighborhood is a gift! Carter would give you the boot off his broken leg (literally) if you told him he could go on a long bike ride tomorrow. We need our children to see exercise as a pleasurable experience and something to look forward to, and there's no better way to cement that than family outings.

Before I go into family meals, let me just preface by saying I GET IT. With 832 different schedules and practices and homework and jobs, I know this one's hard. And it certainly doesn't have to happen every night...but at least a few nights a week, enjoying a meal together is critical to developing a healthy relationship with food. There is so much more that happens at a dinner table than dinner. There is eye contact, conversation, taking turns, laughter, and, okay, a little bit of chaos if yours are little like mine. BUT! BUT! It's worth fighting through the chaos to share a healthy meal when you can. And bonus points if your kids help you with the cooking!

Last, but not least...

ACTION STEP: Just stop talking.  

Yes, I know, this sounds harsh, but it's true. For the love, people...STOP TALKING ABOUT APPEARANCES ALL THE TIME. And by this I mean your body AND other people's bodies. We have SUCH a fixation in our society with our physical appearances. We fixate on our hair, we gossip when someone has put on weight, we constantly whine about our wrinkles and stretch marks.

And I'm calling it out today: STOP.

Our bodies were created to DO. When God created us thousands of years ago, His primary focus was not on how we looked, but what we could DO with our bodies. We were created to work, to learn, to carry children, to feed children, to travel with our families. We were supposed to feed and nurture that body to keep it strong so we could continue to work. We were never meant to focus so much on how that body looked...but that's part of our fall as human beings.

That stretched out tummy that now resembles a frowning face? It grew a human. Or two. Or twelve if you're a Duggar.
Those saggy boobs? It kept a few tiny people alive for a year.
That thigh gap you constantly covet? Screw it! Your thighs ran a half marathon.

Enough complaining, you guys. Enough fixating. Enough battling something that was never meant to be fought in the first place. Let's get over it already.

And here's why this is so critical when you have little ears around...they hear everything. And repeat everything.

The other night, my husband was telling me a story about something scary (or maybe exciting...I can't be sure as I was only half-listening...) that happened at work, and without thinking, I replied, "Oh, damn!" Can you guess what the next two words out of our sweet baby boy's mouth were? Yep. You know it. He looked right in my eyes and said, "Oh, damn."

   I'll leave my "Mother of the Year" trophy on the door step for collection.

When you look in the mirror and verbally criticize those laugh lines on your face with your little girl standing at your feet, do you really think she's not paying attention? She's looking at you, who in her eyes is the most beautiful woman in the world, and you're feeding her negativity. Whether she's aware of it in the moment or not, you're teaching her how to be a woman, and what she just learned is this: women criticize themselves.

Is that really the message we want her to learn?

I want to see my little girl looking in the mirror admiring how strong she is, how much she's grown, or, better yet, moving her focus away from the mirror and into the eyes of people. I want to teach her that it's more important to look out than to look in. I want her to learn that we focus on others, not fixate on ourselves.

  So, those are my thoughts for this NEDA week. We can plant seeds now that can create change later, and I hope you'll join me as we fight for our kids.

If you or someone you know is struggling in this area, I'd highly encourage you to check out https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/ or find a local therapist who can help you. If you'd like to contact me directly to help you find resources in your area, you may always do so at awezell@gmail.com.

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! 

On New Year's Day...

January 1. 

I love a fresh start, don't you? I love opening up a fresh planner, turning to a new month, and dreaming of the possibilities. I also love the thought of improving on the month or year past and setting goals for myself, personally and professionally, as we move into a new chapter.

So, let's chat goals. I am what the personality tests like to call a "lion," which basically means I'm really good at the seeing the big picture or the end goal, and I can get focused to a fault when I'm trying to meet a goal or accomplish something. The problem with lions though is that we often lack the discipline and time management to work out the details that will allow us to achieve our goal without leaving the rest of our life in chaos. We're really BAD at working out the little details when we've set our eyes on the prize, so to speak. 

One of my faults? Constantly thinking about the NEXT project or NEXT goal or NEXT big thing I'm going to do, which often makes me miss out on some of the everyday, routine joy of whatever season of life I currently find myself. I'm always pushing for the next best thing without relishing in the here and now. 

The thing is that I really love the adrenaline rush and sense of accomplishment I feel when I've stepped into new territory or done something I never dreamed I could do. There's nothing that sets me more on fire than working toward a goal or dream that I really believe in. And that's not ALL bad.

The catch-22 though? I've been convicted lately that a lot of my drive to constantly improve and grow stems from a lack of contentment. If I'm being totally honest, I think at times, I constantly push myself because I don't feel like I'm enough. And at times, I feel as if I'm too much. 

And, I'm willing to bet that sometimes, you feel that way, too.

But here's the thing, friends: if I never did another thing, and if I never accomplished another goal in my whole life, the Lord says I'm enough. That doesn't mean I can sit on my couch and binge Netflix until He calls me home, but it DOES mean that I can be content with exactly who He created me to be. Because the best news of the entire gospel is this: HE DID IT FOR ME. Jesus did on the cross what I could never do. He died on the cross and what He did, not what I do, makes me a citizen of heaven. I don't have to continue to prove my worth or continue striving to achieve anyone's approval because He did that for me. He says I'm enough.

And SO ARE YOU.

For the last 15 years or so, I've given myself a challenge to start the new year. Three years ago, I started this blog. Two years ago, I finally said yes to becoming an Ambassador with Noonday Collection after sitting on the decision for 9 months. Last year, I set out to qualify for a trip with the company to meet our artisan partners. 

I'm thrilled that all three of those ventures have been successful, but this year? I really feel as if the Lord is asking me to slow it down. Soak it in. Enjoy the ages my kids are and just relish this season of time with them. I've got so much already planned for this year that I truthfully just don't need to add anything more to it. This year, I'm enjoying the fruits of what I've worked for the last three - I'm visiting our artisan partners, we're taking several family vacations, and I'm continuing to write in this little space I've created here. And I'm calling that good enough.  

So, for 2018, my goal is contentment. 

Less looking out at what the world says I need to be doing and more looking in at my family and friends. 

Less looking down at my phone and more looking up at my kids. 

Less focus on the things that are ahead and more focus on the things I have right in front of me.

What's your goal for 2018? Tell me in the comments! Happy New Year, friends! 

We Needed Him

This week, we celebrated one year as a family of five. On November 14, 2016, Brooks joined our family in China, and we will never be the same. All week I've wanted to think of something I could post to share with you how much he means to us, but I think the guest post I submitted to "No Hands But Ours" last week sums it up perfectly, so if you didn't catch it there, you can read it now. I hope it encourages you to trust the Lord in wherever He's leading you because His plans are ALWAYS better and for our good.

One year.

I still can’t believe it’s been an entire year since Brooks became ours. One year since a tiny, pale, very sick little boy reached for two strangers in a musty Chinese conference room. One year as a family of five. One year of learning and adapting and fighting for a little boy born over 7,000 miles away from the place he now calls home.

I’ll never forget my husband tapping me on the shoulder that day as I was completing yet another form where I promised to take proper care of Brooks. Very calmly and quietly, he simply stated, “There he is.” I looked up as three women breezed through the door carrying our 17-pound baby boy and headed straight for us. They knew exactly who they were looking for and within ten seconds of entering the room, one of his nannies was standing next to us. I barely had time to throw my husband’s phone at our guide so she could record the moment. He then reached his arms out for me to hold him, and a collective “Awww!” filled the room from the nannies and other adoptive parents waiting to meet their children. 

His nannies smiled and reassured him as he began to interact with us. He had been dressed to the nines in a beautiful four-piece panda suit, and it appeared that they had even dressed him in new shoes and sent along a favorite rattle. The nannies giggled as they shared with us that he had been saying “mama” and “baba” on the van ride to meet us, and they beamed with pride as our 13-month-old son showed off his skills as a new walker.

Fifteen months of paperwork, prayer, and tears were behind us, and our whole lives as his parents were beginning.

If I’m being honest, up until that hand-off, I’d been terrified of this moment. I’d spent the last four months staring at the two pictures we had, re-reading all six pages of his paperwork, and trying desperately to create meaning out of each and every word we knew about him. I spent many countless nights staring at my bedroom ceiling worrying about whether or not his medical issues, which, according to the file, seemed so incredibly minor and insignificant, were actually accurate. I had read so many stories of families who brought home very different children than they had expected, and I worried about all the things that his orphanage could’ve missed. 

Would he attach easily? 

How many therapies would he need? 

Will his brother and sister accept him as their brother? 

What will people say when they see a Chinese child with Caucasian parents? 

How will we communicate with him?

The list went on and on.

I knew we’d been called to adoption, and I had a peace in my heart that this child was my son. None of that had ever been in question, but the fear of the unknown consumed me. On that day, in that stale conference room that reeked of burnt coffee and cigarettes, something in me changed. As that bundled baby boy accepted puff after puff after puff out of my hands, I felt myself slowly exhale. In that moment, I realized that he, just like my other two, was just a normal baby. He was going to do all of the typical baby things his brother and sister did, even if it looked a little bit different or happened in a different timing. Developmental delays, premature birth, anemia…or not…he was just a little boy who needed a family. 

Why had I been so afraid of him?

Over the last year, we’ve learned a lot about the little boy who once kept me up at night. He sings a mean “Wheels on the Bus,” points out every airplane that passes, and throws half his food on the floor, just like his older brother did. He loves candy, hates milk, and fights us getting strapped into the car seat, just like his big sister did. He lives for goldfish and cars and says, “Mine!” if you try to take his toy, just like every other toddler I know.

The past year has been one of growth and change. We now manage Brooks’s asthma, which was a surprise to us, but after our initial few months home, we seemed to get in a groove with his medications. His head circumference, once a little bit of a concern to doctors, has leveled off and his anemia is completely gone. We are medically stable for the moment, and for that we are so grateful.

Today, Brooks is thriving in preschool and has begun naming colors, shapes, and engaging us in games and songs. He knows his mommy, daddy, brother, and sister, and we look forward to enrolling our strong little guy in gymnastics in the spring. He is the happiest and friendliest little guy you’ll ever meet and excels at greeting everyone he passes, stranger or not.

I think the biggest thing I’ve learned this year is simply this: we needed him. Not just another child…but him. When God called our family to adoption three years ago, I don’t believe it was for any other reason than for this boy. Brooks completes our family in a way we never knew we needed, and I thank God every day for not letting my fear be bigger than my faith. He is our peacemaker, our funny guy, and lets his big sister smother him like the living baby doll she always wanted.

There were so many moments throughout our adoption process where I wanted to throw in the towel. There were moments when the agency was invoicing us for an amount larger than what we had available to give them, or when the doctors told us his head circumference could indicate a neurological problem, or when we were asked yet again why we weren’t just trying for “our own” baby. It would’ve been easy to say no and walk away when things got tough, but I think back now at all we would’ve missed and am so glad we stayed the course. Many people like to applaud us and tell us how lucky Brooks is to have us, but the truth is that we needed him much more than he ever needed us. H

e’s a gift to us who is going to do BIG things in his life…we’re just the lucky ones who get the front row seats. 

On Opening the Door

This past week at my MOPS meeting, I sat at a table with six amazing women discussing clutter. We all have it – physical clutter, meaning the piles, the boxes, the shoes (my personal nemesis), the disorganized parts of our home. We all have that one closet we’d be horrified if someone opened, am I right? 

I’ve never really thought much beyond what it physically is…stuff. Things. Junk. But as the seven of us shared and dug a little deeper into our clutter, some truths began to surface that went much deeper than piles of our children’s school work and that box of clothes we can’t let go of because “someday” we might fit back into it.

Our conversation shifted from Container Store bins and organizational tips to much bigger things like guilt and shame and vulnerability. There were common threads – the excessive amount of toys our children have that they don’t play with (that’s another blog post entirely…sheesh), the preschool drawings we can’t seem to let go of, the hoarding tendencies of family members, the hand-me-down pile-up, and the shame or anxiety we have over entertaining. 

But what struck me the most was how this physical clutter and the shame we feel about all of our “stuff” has ultimately separated us from community with those around us and, more importantly, community with Jesus.

I grew up in a home where we had people over all the time. Weekends were a revolving door of friends, babysitters, and neighbors. I could walk two houses down to play with one friend and two blocks to play with another. I had several “bonus moms” whose license plate numbers I can still recite because that’s how much time I spent in their cars.

I realize now what a gift that was, but at the time, it was just normal. If I wanted to invite a friend to our house on a Saturday afternoon with 15 minutes notice, there were no great logistics involved. No one was concerned with how pristine and perfect the house was…we simply called their house, and if they were free, they showed up. Easy.

When did we make it so complicated?

If I think back to my time I spent as a child at my friends’ houses for sleepovers and whatnot, I literally have ZERO memories of mess. I have exactly zero memories of the décor and organization (or lack of) in my friends’ homes. (Okay, there was this one really creepy chicken statue that sat in one friend’s kitchen, and I only remember that because I felt like it was watching me all the time.)

As for clutter? I’m sure it was there, but do you know how much it mattered to me? Exactly ZERO percent. And I can assure you that my 1989 bonus moms did NOT waste their time cleaning counters and vacuuming floors right before five second graders descended for a sleepover. They simply knew better. They threw some sleeping bags, pizza, and Blockbuster videos out on the living room floor, and moved on with their lives. Ain’t nobody got time for the Dyson.

Here’s the thing, friends…if we say we value and long for authentic community, yet are not willing to open our lives and our homes to those around us because we have a few piles of clutter and our homes are not “perfect,” how can our neighbors truly feel comfortable enough to really connect with us? Nobody wants to be friends with the Cleavers. If we insist on waiting until we have the perfect home and perfect clutter-free life before we can invite people in, we’ll be waiting forever.

You know my absolute very favorite thing about Jesus? He loved a hot mess. Like me and you. He didn’t seek out the ones who had it all together, he sought out the imperfect. He used people who were alcoholics (Noah) and thieves (Zacchaeus) and prostitutes (Rahab) to spread the Gospel. Had he sought out the most holy, most sinless, most perfect people, honestly, who would’ve listened? I don’t know about you, but I’m much more moved and inspired by the stories of those who have overcome their sin and been redeemed through the Holy Spirit than by those who have never faced a struggle. 

To be fair, vulnerability is hard, scary even, but it’s also a bridge. It’s at the heart of connection. To let people into our mess, into our struggle, and into our homes says to them, “It’s okay to be you. You don’t have to be perfect here.”

What freedom there is in that!

We don’t have to be perfect to spend time with the Lord, and we certainly don’t have to have it all together to invite others in. Don’t miss out on the joy of connection because you’re afraid of people seeing the real you. To be truly seen and known and accepted anyway, well, I’m not sure I can think of a greater gift. 

Brooks Turns TWO!

Brooksie Brooks, you are TWO!

I can't even believe it. Last year on September 16th, you were living in an orphanage on the other side of the world. You had a family, but you didn't know it yet, and you certainly didn't understand what a birthday was. We did our best to celebrate you in your absence, but our hearts were just broken to know you were so far away on such a special day. 

This year, we spent the day doing all your favorite things!

We started the morning with donuts...because 'Merica. ;) 

After opening and playing with your presents from Mommy, Daddy, Carter, and Kate, we headed up to play at the mall and go pick out some clothes for our Build-A-Bears. You picked out an Elmo outfit, complete with slippers, and then we played and rode the cars at the play area before heading to the food court for lunch. This was strategy - I knew you'd want your beloved lo mein noodles, but I wasn't about to clean those up at home, so the food court was the perfect place to let you glory in your love for the noodle. Bonus - we even ran into your sweet teacher eating lunch with her husband! 

After that, we headed home for naps and to get ready for your big fiesta! Cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles arrived late that afternoon, and we had a "Choo Choo, He's TWO!" party. :) Not only are trains one of your favorite things, but your Chinese name was also Zhi Qiu (pronounced Ji Choo), and your ayis in China called you Qiu Qiu (pronounced Choo Choo), so obviously that fit. ;) 

You LOVED all the attention, ate great food, got more presents from your family, and even tried your hand at a pinata! 

Your absolute favorite part of the day was watching all your family sing "Happy Birthday" to you. After you blew out the candles and we all cheered, you got the BEST little grin on your face. You know routinely ask for "Happy" anytime we sit down to eat. Apparently, you think this is going to be a regular thing around here...

Brooks, we don't know what we did right to get the absolute JOY of being your parents, but all of us truly count our lucky stars EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. that the Lord blessed us with the gift of YOU. You are incredibly smart, kind, observant, loving, compassionate, funny (SO funny), and dangerously handsome. Your joy is contagious, and I've yet to meet someone who doesn't immediately fall head over heels for you. Adoption is not an easy road for anyone involved, and there is a lot of fear and brokenness at times...but YOU, dear boy, are worth every sleepless night, every grey hair, and every blank on every piece of paper we had to fill out to bring you home. I would go through it all a thousand times over just for one of your million dollar smiles and to hear your sweet little voice call "Mommy."

We love you, sweet one...happy 2nd birthday!