Seventy-two hours ago I was supposed to be landing in Guatemala. Instead my flight was delayed and I arrived almost 10 hours late. Not a great start to an already super short trip. Today, I am in the air again, racing back north in time for the final in a country concert series the kids and I have been singing our way through this summer.

A month ago, when the judge declared our court date the day before tonight’s concert I said Jesus was going to have to fix it. I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull this one off. Being that I will land in Cleveland in time to get to the concert, we have decided that Jesus is a country music fan, or values family time, or just loves to answers our prayers, no matter how ridiculous, because he loves us.

The last few hours have been short on sleep and long on answered prayers.

On the first leg of this flight, in my blurry eyed, not-enough-caffeine-yet brain, I was reflecting to the very first flight back from Guatemala. I had only just met this 13 year old kid, and yet I sat with uncontrollable tears leaking out of my eyes on the way home because of the way my heart hurt for him. I thought I was losing my mind. If you had told me then, 2.5 years ago, what today would look like, I would never have believed it. Now I know for sure, I absolutely did lose my mind. I still don’t know how God managed to absolutely wreck my heart, in the span of a breath, for this kid, but in that broken-hearted moment, God created a new family. I guess that was miracle number 1 in the line of them that pave this journey.

Last night, this now 16 year old kid and I made a celebratory dinner of spaghetti – he cooked, I helped. We laughed and played cards and talked about how we both get tired of the rain and school and how math might be the death of all of my kids and how he’s just ready to come home and how he sees himself as my son, and yes, it’s ok for other people, and us, to call him that. My heart, oh it’s never ever going to be the same.

On the very same day as our extra bedroom addition was finished, we went to court for the 3rd time. It’s a good thing that bedroom is finished…and if I didn’t believe God was so far ahead of us on this it would be one more in a long line of coincidences. But God. This story is laced with his grace and mercy and healing, and his sovereign, supernatural, miracle giving power and not one piece of this has been a coincidence. There is no separating this story from Him, it is His from the very beginning. We were a part of it before we ever even realized it was a story.

Yesterday, as I sat, alone, in the lobby of children’s court, fear was gripping my heart. Flanked by police officers, who just happened to pick the empty seats next to me, I wondered what in the heck I was doing. Seriously…what is the love of this child getting me in to? He is stretching me, and my faith, in ways I didn’t know were possible and driving me to embrace two things that God values, and I struggle mightily with, helplessness and vulnerability.

So, why the Italian-dinner-in-Guatemala celebration last night? We were thanking God for the ways in which He continues to answer our prayers. CNA showed up to court with the letter that they delivered to the Embassy last month. It was our first opportunity to see what they had written. As I understand it they expressed, very clearly, their willingness to proceed with the adoption. Secondly, they have fulfilled another of the judge’s earlier rulings and created a list of children, let me say that last part again, CHILDREN!, who are available for international adoption. And our son is on that list! I still haven’t fully processed all of this. This is going to happen. Our son is coming home. There are still lots of steps between where we are and my dinner table but God’s got this.

And, beyond our very personal prayers being answered, the door will be opened for more children to find family. Thank you Jesus!!

Finally, the judge has asked for documentation on both the international and domestic sides to ensure we are all proceeding in accordance with all of the Hague laws as this will be a ground-breaking, precedent setting case. We have 3 months to gather this but if everyone is ready before that he has agreed to move up the next hearing. It seems like the need to make this request is a real possibility.

So, my bold prayer, is that we are celebrating Christmas under one roof this year.

As I look at all of this laid out I can’t help but praise my God who is a good, good father. He has challenged me, and comforted me, and and shown up over and over and over through this entire process. He has answered prayers in ways big, most recently, our adoption application continuing to be moved forward when no one thought there was even a chance of that happening. (I didn’t even tell you about that whole part of this crazy journey or the fact that a new director of CNA was named last week and our team is hoping to meet with him next week!) And in little, not-important-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things-ways like my ability to end this day (that started at 3:30 am) at a concert with 4 kids that God has given me, my kids and their friends. Family, in the truest, least biological, sense of the word. And countless other big, small, and everywhere in between prayers that have been cried, whispered, and barely even recognized ways over the last months.

CNA, country concerts, and Christmas together as a family. He is writing this story and I can’t wait to see what happens next. I know that no matter what, even if all of this falls apart tomorrow, I will be ok. My family will be ok. I don’t know how we will be, but I know that we can trust in the plan that God has laid before us. Nothing is too big, or too small for God and that, more than anything today, is where I have to take a deep breath and just find rest.

Sixteen years ago, today, a woman gave birth to a baby boy in Guatemala. I don’t know anything about her other than her name. I don’t know what circumstances drove her to give up her child but, in her sacrifice, I have a son. A child that I could not love any more if I had given birth to him myself.

The rest of this story is small in comparison to that.

I want to frame this story with a lesson that God taught me early Tuesday morning as I was praying over a day that was to be a monumental. I was so angry about the events of the day before (see below) and I was feeling as helpless as I have in this entire process. God reminded me that this is his battle, not mine. This is not my fight. “Don’t be afraid. Just stand still and watch the Lord rescue you today. The Lord himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.” Exodus 14:13-14 With this reminder, my foot, that had been incessantly tapping, stopped. The vibrating tension in my body drained. God’s got this. But that didn’t mean that the day was easy.

One month ago, a judge ordered the beginnings of a change in Guatemala, he pushed a door open, cracked it for the possibility of a new chapter in international adoption between the United States and Guatemala. Seventeen days ago, an adoption agency agreed to put aside everything they knew to be true in order to help us. Seventeen days ago, a home study agency agreed to do the impossible in pulling together our entire report in a short two weeks.  We have filled out 150+ pages of applications, had fire inspections, the dog to the vet, obtained doctors reports, completed educational courses, and burned the candle at both ends to prepare for today. A 16th birthday is a milestone marker birthday in the world of international adoption. Adoption visas are only granted to children whose paperwork has been filed prior to this monumental day.  Today we have reached that day.

Last Friday, the day I boarded a plane to Guatemala, every last paper was in order to file our adoption application with the exception of a letter from Guatemala’s central adoption authority, CNA, to the United States central adoption authority, the Department of State. As the hours ticked by and the letter didn’t arrive, we needed to start making a plan B. Monday morning, Phil and I, and our attorney, showed up at CNA with paperwork in hand and a request for our “letter.” Even without an appointment we were granted an audience with the sub-director, the highest power in CNA at the moment. His immediate answer was no. This is something I have become accustomed to and our lawyer wasn’t going to stand for it. Each of the three of us had an opportunity to have our voices heard, and I had the chance to pour out my heart to the two highest powers overseeing adoption in Guatemala. When we finally left it was with the commitment to send a letter to both our adoption agency and the Department of State. As the hours again slipped by the letter never came. A phone call to CNA revealed that they had lied to us.  They had no intention of sending the letter and didn’t even as they ushered us out of their office. I have never experienced deception on this level before. I didn’t even know what to do with it…How do you hold the highest power accountable? Especially when time was our biggest enemy.

This is a man who has the power to help these children, to clear the path for their best interests, and he remains defiant.  All the passion and anger that rose up within me. I was seething.

A phone call to the judge unearthed his anger and he assured us that he would remedy the situation during our court hearing on the following day. We had 24 hours to have a letter delivered and our application overnighted. This was becoming a process of counting minutes.

Phil left for the airport in his rental car at the same time that we left for our court hearing on Tuesday. As we were nearing the court, I got a phone call from him. He had been pulled over in a random checkpoint and informed that Avis had not paid a fine on his car. He was being detained until someone from Avis could come and take care of the situation. As he called me, he said, I am sitting on the side of the road surrounded by Guatemalan police. I am not sure what to do. As time was running out to make his flight the officers informed him that if he wanted to pay the fine they would release him. I can only assume that the $40 that it cost him to secure his freedom will never make it to any official beyond those who were surrounding his car.

As I was sitting in the lobby of Children’s Court, I realized how in over our heads we are in this. We are doing this whole other thing down here that is beyond anything I would have ever even realized as a possibility. I was sitting in children’s court in Guatemala City, watching a parade of broken and hurting children, hot, loud, the tension palpable. I was feeling in way too deep, alone, while I waited on so many things, Phil to be released, a judge to speak justice into our situation, with zero language skills, the basis of my functionality. All I could do was pray, and even that was failing me, all I could come up with in the moment was a mantra of “Please, God. Please, God.” The last two days have been an extreme in living outside the realm of my reality.

An hour and a half after our little band of warriors walked into court, they walked out with a judge’s order in hand that CNA produce a letter. We were now down to 4.5 hours before our paperwork had to be put in an overnight package to be delivered to a lockbox for USCIS. CNA had sent a rookie lawyer who was completely out of step with the judge’s previous orders from a month ago. In addition, CNA had failed to do any of the things that the judge had ordered them to. As of the writing of this, CNA has 48 hours to produce a list of children that would be available for international adoptions and to make that available to the Department of State. If they fail to do this, they will be breaking the law and the judge will hold them in contempt of court. For more than just us, this is so, so, so big.

As we arrived at CNA, both of the men that Phil and I had met with the day before passed through the area we were waiting and did double takes as they saw me. I wanted to tell them, you see? My God is bigger!

As the hours passed, we waited, and waited some more.  I introduced JC to the dot game and we passed the time connecting dots. CNA kept inviting us to leave and we kept declining their offer. Intent instead, to stage our peaceful sit-in, 4 of us, until we had in our hand the letter that was promised to us the day before. (We even ordered McDonalds to be delivered to us while we waited.) After 3 hours, as CNA employees were leaving for the day, a letter was finally prepared, and it was hand delivered to the US Embassy. We didn’t get to see it; we couldn’t have a copy of it. But we did receive a call from the office of the First Lady of Guatemala and were informed that CNA followed every detail of the judge’s order and assured us of their continued assistance in the process.

This morning we have received word that our application was received by USCIS and our adoption agency has requested a phone call with a supervisor of USCIS to try and talk though all of the minutia of this mess of a process.

Yesterday morning, I dug into Exodus 14. The chapter begins with Pharaoh changing his mind about letting the Israelites go. This felt so familiar. The edge of the Red Sea, no place to turn, nothing more that could be done except just sitting in faith and waiting on God to redeem the situation. The Red Sea parted, the Israelites were saved, and Pharaoh drowned. The victory belongs to God! But I really want to know, was Moses sad when Pharaoh drowned? I honestly want to see the Red Sea crash.

We weren’t looking for a fight, but we are on the front lines. The scariest thing, is to be standing there, bombs falling, and not be able to do a thing. God has made it clear though that this battle for me is though prayer, not in anything that I might be able to “do.” And in this His power and glory will be on display for all to see. I am longing to see the God of the Old Testament bring justice.

Beth Guckenberger wrote, “Noah’s story teaches us to listen even when what we hear doesn’t make sense. Abraham’s story says God is always ‘on time.’ “ JC’s story tells us that nothing is beyond redemption, and our God is still a God of miracles.

My mind, my body, and my heart are tired but I am rejoicing in all of the ways God is redeeming this child’s story and restoring justice. Tonight I get to light the candles on his cake and celebrate his birthday with him and no matter what else happens, we are already a family.

At this moment in time I am struggling to make sense of what has happened over the last 48 hours. I am now 37,000 feet in the air, somewhere over the ocean and my heart is aching and my eyes won’t quit leaking. The only thing I know for sure is that God is great and He answers prayer. Often times in the most unexpected ways.
I left the orphanage on Wednesday afternoon to buy an ace bandage and a few random groceries and was thankful for a bit of a reprieve. Quite honestly I was feeling like maybe I wasn’t in the right place. Feeling like maybe this whole thing was not God’s plan for me. I had been praying that in our remaining days He would reveal if in fact I was in the right place, doing the right thing. I expected when we got there to have my world rocked, assumedly by the babies. But truly, being a stranger in a strange land where I was unable to communicate very well, I was out of my comfort zone, feeling in over my head, and even a little homesick. So, when I had the opportunity to go to the grocery store I jumped at it. 

We had been invited to take part in delivering “mail” to one of the boys houses. (“Mail” is when, a few times a year, sponsor gifts are delivered to the kids.) In going to the store I was going to miss this particular delivery but figured I would go to another one. It was Mae who needed the ace bandage for a twisted ankle (graceful is not a word I would normally use to describe her) so she said she would stay and go to the boys house. I told her to take pictures and let me know how it was. 

I got back to find her still there and the Sponsorship Director heading back to the house with a Bible for one of the boys who was struggling. She told me he needed “some love” and invited me to join them. On our way into the house said that Mae had said we would sponsor one of the boys. (We had already decided we would. We just didn’t know who.) The director assumed it would be the little outgoing ball of energy that also lives in this particular house. But Mae had other intentions. The older, quiet boy, that needed “love” was already who Mae had chosen. Unbeknownst to us this Godly young man has spent the last 3 months praying, with the director, for a family. Being 13 she didn’t have a lot of hope for finding someone for him. 

In the moments that followed the offer of sponsorship there were hugs, tears, a few pictures and a translated conversation. He has gained more than just a sponsorship though. He has a family, more I am sure, than he bargained for. I can only tell you that in the moment that he hugged me something happened. A hole that I didn’t even know was empty was filled. My heart was wrecked and overflowing at the same time by this young man who has never known a family outside of the orphanage. His, a heart-wrenching story that we didn’t know until after the fact. At a point when I was wondering what I was doing there, feeling like I was floundering, to get an answer to prayer, and be an answer to prayer…God is so good!

I didn’t go to Guatemala thinking this would happen. I would have not believed that a 13 year old boy would so capture my heart. I would not have thought that now I would worry for him, worry for his future in a country that is so poverty stricken.
We had the opportunity to make an emergency trip to the store only hours before our flight back this afternoon to make sure that he has everything (and more because Mae and I couldn’t help ourselves) that he will need as he starts his 7th grade year in school next week. Oh, the smiles and the laughter, as he opened everything and immediately began trying on some of his favorite things. I just want to keep that in my heart forever. And I just kept thinking I needed more time, and wished to be fluent in Spanish. 

And so here I sit, in the middle seat, wondering when (and if?) we will be able to see him again. Wondering when my heart will stop hurting and at the same time hoping that it never does. Hoping that people will understand in me something I don’t understand myself. Wondering what in the world God is up to but knowing that He is sovereign and has a plan. 

Oh, sweet boy, who “needed love” my heart is overflowing with love for you in a way that I cannot understand. 

  Six years ago, just days before we were to gather around the Thanksgiving table we were saying goodbye to, and burying my grandfather, one of the greatest men I have ever known. That Thanksgiving was a “First Thanksgiving” and everyone since then has been a reminder…Just yesterday I read this from Jen Hatmaker. For all of you experiencing a first or second or 6 year anniversary Thanksgiving there is a wealth of wisdom in her words. 

“A quick word to everyone for whom this Thanksgiving is a sad first. First Thanksgiving after you lost someone precious this year, after a divorce, after a hard move, after a job loss, after something broke apart.

Thanksgiving (and the Christmas season) are wrapped up in traditions, but when an important person or place is missing, everything can feel disoriented and broken.
I love you. God loves you and sees you. Praying this morning for new joy, fresh enthusiasm, the creation of new memories. Asking that grief does not rule your heart and mind this year.

You are strong and capable and still able to fill your days with laughter and joy. Jesus is the best. People love you. You matter. There is still so much ahead.

God gave us an amazing tool to mitigate sorrow and seize joy by the collar: gratitude. It is a crazy effective trick.

Maybe we can bear witness for each other here today. For those of us who suffered a loss this year and those of us who just love you. Let’s list it, name it all, as a sheer act of courage and trust in the face of struggle:

What are you thankful for, in spite of everything, dear ones?”

Run and Be Still is officially two years old. Break out the party hats, cake, and ice cream. (Any reason is a good reason to celebrate with sweets, right?)

I have this thing with old pictures…I love them. I love the stories they represent, the old memories they hold within them. I can get lost in them, laughing and crying and remembering.  

I spent a period of my life scrapbooking, putting together these beautiful pages of memories when my kids were little. They are now 15 and 12…the scrapbooks stop at about ages 3 and 6. I always meant to get back to them but life happens and time passes. (And any fellow scrapbookers out there know how time consuming and messy this process can be.) But I absolutely treasure the ones that I do have. These books represent our past, they tell our story as a family and individually. Our triumphs and struggles. The faces in the books that are no longer with us, existing and living on only in our memories. 

And then, the past has this inexplicable way of making us look to the future. Wondering how the babies that we just held are about to be taking to the road on their own. Gasping at having blown through our elementary years and wondering what the house is going to be like when it’s quiet. 

Today I got lost in Run and Be Still’s memories for awhile. This is our history, something that you have been a part of in a very real way. The idea that just by coming together in writing and reading, responding and sharing, we have this connection…we are affecting and shaping each other’s days. 

This past year we’ve had squawking chickens and floods. We continued to celebrate our answered prayers in the miracle of Hannah. We’ve recently tried to answer tough questions like “Is Jesus alone enough?” I gave away some books and we laughed along with Sarah. In October I was blown away by your response to my post Standing With The Trees. Last summer we decided on not taking ourselves too seriously, and I made a public apology for the weeds growing in my flower beds.  

Overall we have shared 209 posts, had 7533 different visitors with over 40 countries represented! We are sharing life and God and struggle and celebration. We have a history, and there is a big and unknown future for us. 

I don’t know where the next year will find us but hopefully our little RABS (Run and Be Still)  family will be a little bit bigger, our embrace reaching a little bit further. 

Dear Me,

Today you need this reminder. 

On days like today as I look back I have realized we don’t always see the mountains moving in front of us, sometimes it’s a slow process and it’s only as we look in the rearview mirror that we are able to appreciate how far they have moved and how far we have come. I find myself continually amazed at God’s goodness and provision, in sickness, fear, and grief for certain, but also on the good days. He is right in our midst, everyday, if we open our eyes and ears, and soften our hearts to His presence.

How much more could God do with us if by His grace He can move mountains with mustard seed faith and He causes great oak trees to spring forth from tiny acorns? This next year, I pledge to stop wondering “What if?” (And all the other questions I ask myself like “Is anyone listening?” “Does anyone care?” “Am I making a difference?”) and induce my faith, let God take the reins, and continue listening, sharing, and putting one foot in front of the other even when I am weary and it doesn’t make sense. Then I can rest confident in that fact that if I reach one or one hundred thousand it has been exactly God’s plan. I love what Mother Theresa says, “God has not called me to be successful. He called me to be faithful.”
~Happy Birthday Run and Be Still, 5/29/14