Even Still

“We must learn to realize that the love of God seeks us in every situation, and seeks our good.”

- Thomas Merton

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Sometimes things just don’t make a bit of sense. 

Sometimes, often actually, God allows things to happen that I don’t get.

Sometimes, in the story, rules change, and I’m confused.

Sometimes, in my story, things hurt, and I’m frustrated.

Sometimes I find myself groaning, “Why God, why?”


But, even still, I know…

God is not cruel.
He does not intend harm.
He is loving and good.
Always.
All I can do, when I’m confused and battered up, is chant this that I know to be true. Years of living has certainly tethered my heart to Jesus, but I can’t yet claim “unwavering faith”. God’s sovereignty over all life’s bruising twists and turns is truth in my mind, but my heart sometimes is yet convinced. Sometimes I doubt Him for a bit. How could I not? This world is filled with so much hurt. But, in His kindness, despite my waver, His goodness settles me all over again.
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Even…
When governments make rules that make no sense, that harm children and blister our hearts.
When a family willing to say yes to adoption is told no.
When a family has an adoption file in hand, a child already in their hearts, but is told, “No, rules changed.”
When a family holds vigil by a broken-hearted son’s hospital bedside, praying with hope for a medical miracle, but the healing comes not on earth, but in heaven.
When children linger on waiting child lists.
When a newly adopted child wants nothing to do with being loved.
When a daughter with layers of medical trauma needs yet another IV.
When a traumatized boy rages, all these years later.
When the surgery has complications.
When the test results aren’t in our favor.
When teens join eager families, but their world is spinning so wildly out of control that they fight love.
When my own little medical needs daughter’s body stops functioning post-up and scrub draped nurses race her hospital bed into the OR at midnight due to renal failure.
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Even still, God is not cruel.
He does not intend harm.
He is loving and good.
Always.
Sometimes, when life isn’t how I think it should be, when suffering wounds my heart, all I can do is chant to myself that He is good. Reminding myself, willing myself, to believe that He is good, even still. He made us some promises, didn’t He? In those moments, the best I can do is step out a door and let the sun soak life into my skin and allow the breeze to still me. Under the blue of the sky, evidence of Him cannot be denied, and it is there where I can consider His ever present love and sovereignty.
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He’s the one who rains unexplainable peace in OR waiting rooms.
He’s the one who fills hearts with hope when all hope seems lost.

He’s the one who amasses prayer armies.

He’s the one who sends gentle angels in nursing scrubs.

He’s the one who fully and forever heals broken bodies and promises heavenly reunions. 

He’s the one who promises to someday “wipe away every tear”. 

He’s the one who paints rainbows. 

He the one who washes the earth with rain.

He’s the one who tells the sun to burn unending light.

He’s the one who siphons joy back into wounded hearts.

He’s the one who stirs hearts to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves.

He’s the one who calls more and more new families to say yes to adoption.

He’s the one who pumps passion and the crazy kind of love into the adoption community.

He’s the one who sends the servant-hearted nanny into the orphanage.

He’s the one who sends the friend who “gets” what orphanage behaviors can do to a home. 

He’s the one who placed the spunk and fight in the Chinese-American daughter whose hand holds mine. 

He’s the one who turns night to merciful day, dark to light, mourning to joy, over and over again.


In all things, He is calling me to Him, whether I like the story, or not. He pursues me, and you, in life’s winters and its springs. In its harshness and its hopeful abundance.
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When God allows hurt, I might be confused, but I refuse to believe that He is cruel. He’s promised to be our refuge, our stay in the storm, and to work it all out for our good and His glory. So even when I have to chant it to my own heart, I trust His goodness, even still. He sees things that I cannot. He is ever and always at work within governments, adoption agencies, hospital rooms, families and hearts.

Yours and mine.
God is not cruel.
He does not intend harm.
He is loving and good.
Always. Even still.
“And by accepting all things from Him, I receive His joy into my soul, not because things are what they are, but because God is Who He is, and His love willed my joy in them all.”

- Thomas Merton




Letter From Us: No Hands But Ours

When newly home two years ago with three year old, Eli, and one year old, Evelyn, life felt turned upside down for such a very long time. A few months in, I found myself focusing more heavily on the changes I was feeling and experiencing than on how my two little ones, who had been carried away from their worlds in China, might have been feeling. In order to reorient my heart, I spent some time processing through what my kids might have told me if they could.
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Dear Momma,
We first walked through the doors of what you call home two months ago. Can you believe it? Seems like longer.

This has all been so confusing to us. It was just an ordinary day of playing at the orphanage when you suddenly appeared. You had tears in your eyes, and it seemed like you knew us, but we didn’t recognize you. Our nannies handed us to you, and then they stepped away. You looked so different, and your hugs and kisses felt strange. All the fuss unnerved us. We weren’t used to being touched so much. You even smelled different, and we couldn’t understand your words. Your smile was friendly though, and we loved all the fun things you had in your bag. Then, you carried us out the doors of the only place we’d ever known. As we drove toward all things new, our cribs, nannies and friends were moving farther and farther away in the rearview mirror. It’s like our hearts stopped beating and our heads started spinning. It’s been really scary.
  
Remember that our little hearts are still trying to make sense of it all. Our worlds just stopped when you added us to yours.

We know we brought some crazy into your ordered, comfortable world, and sometimes you and daddy seem tired, frazzled, and grumpy. Maybe we turned your life upside down. Ours is upside down too.

Despite it all, we catch you looking at us and smiling. And when you pull us close, it feels hopeful now, even if we still aren’t sure how to handle the touch.

You guys are kind though and take such gentle care of us. Slowly, safety is calming us. The best thing? It hasn’t ended yet. We keep wondering if it will. Every morning we wake up and you are still there. This thing called family feels like something special. We don’t quite get it yet, but it is starting to settle into the deep places of us.

We’ve noticed that when we go places, we always come right back to this same place. It’s like we all belong here. This house is fun too. Everything is soft and cozy. Tile, concrete and lots of kids sharing the same things are what we were used to. Here, interesting things seem to be in every drawer and basket. We like to dump things out and investigate, because we were never allowed to explore before. There wasn’t anything to explore.

More great news? We are growing more attached to you. You feel safe, so when you aren’t in the room, everything feels off. You’d probably prefer that we not sit on the rug beside the tub during your end of a long day bath, but we just love the feeling we get when we are with you. And those little almond eyes you see under the bathroom door? That’d be us. There is a deep place within us that wonders if you’ll leave and never come back. Could that be part of our story more than twice?

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We might call everyone “mama”, but in our hearts, we are learning who you are. You are different from all the “mamas” who have taken care of us. You are gentle and constant. Something in us just knows that you’ve changed everything.

As you can tell, we require a wee bit of extra grace. You didn’t think it was funny when we stuffed things in the toilet, dug dirt out of plants, peed on the couch, played on the carpet with water filled toy dishes, smushed oatmeal in our just washed hair, got into the medicine cabinet, and ripped pages out of your library book. There might be some words that you said that we shouldn’t repeat. And those “child safety” things you just installed? Probably a real good idea.

Can you keep showing us grace? We’re just checking out our new world. Deep breaths might be a good idea as well.

Sometimes we just can’t process how the newness makes us feel. It’s hard to understand-even the good parts. When the feelings are too much, sometimes we cry, scream, grow silent, run away, or hold on hard and not let go. Does your grace and love have a limit?

Keep singing “Jesus Loves Me” into our ears. It quiets our shaking souls. Someday soon we’ll learn the words.

Don’t worry so much about us learning to talk. Our ears just need more time taking in all the English. You sound so different from the nannies.

You’ve got baskets of books everywhere. We think they might be something special. The sitting still thing while you read is a bit hard, but please don’t stop trying. Your lap feels good, and the cadence of your voice a simple comfort. Be patient.

American food is funny, isn’t it? We ate very different food in China. Give us time, and please serve lots of rice and noodles. We’ll get used to the rest.

We get the feeling you’d like for us to sleep better at night. Sometimes when we cry because we aren’t right next to you, you seem really grumpy. Remember that we used to sleep in a room with all our friends. There were even night nurses who would play at midnight. We’re afraid if we wake up and you aren’t in the room. The good news is that you make us feel safe. Is that what love means?

When we first came home, you were doing well just to give us all baths and clothe us. You sure have come a long way. You and dad are SO productive now. It’s like you got on a mission to handle it all. Accomplishing tasks seems to make you feel good. That’s important and all, but instead of an empty dishwasher and a plan, maybe we could just BE together. When you take the time to hold us, look in our eyes, and react to our smiles and cries, something new stirs in our hearts. 
  
Thanks for the healthy meals and folded clothes in our drawers, but maybe one day we could just eat hot dogs, wear the same clothes two days in a row and dance in the kitchen. Daddy has some great moves.

And outside? So cool. That’s new to us too. Let’s go out there more. We’ll try to remember not to walk in the road.

Sometimes, just for a passing minute, do you ever think about life before we met and miss it? Yep, us too. Everything has changed for all of us. Let’s not forget though that God made us some promises, and that He writes stories with great endings.

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Read the rest over at No Hands But Ours.

A Letter From Us

Dear Mama,

 

We've been home less than two months.  Can you believe it?  Seems like longer. 

 

 

We know we brought a bit of crazy to your ordered, comfortable world.  You and daddy seem tired...frazzled even... and sometimes grumpy.  Maybe we turned your world upside down. Ours is upside down too. 

 

 

This has all been a bit confusing to us.  We were just playing with our buddies in the orphanage that day, when suddenly, you appeared and changed everything.  You sure looked different than the nannies, but we loved all the fun things you had in your bag.  You had tears in your eyes and it seemed like you knew us, but we didn't recognize you.  We didn't know what to think when you carried us away from everything we knew.  You drove us away from our homes and toward all things new.  We were scared and sad too.   Remember that our little hearts are still trying to figure all this out.  Our old life just stopped when you added us to yours.

 

 

You guys are kind though.  The hugs feel good and you take such good care of us.  The best thing?  It hasn't ended yet.  We keep wondering if it will.  This thing called family is something special.  We don't quite get it yet, but it is starting to settle into the deep places of us. 

 

 

This new house is fun.  Everything is soft and cozy.  Tile, bricks and lines of kids sharing the same things is what we are used to.   Here, interesting things seem to be in every drawer and basket.   We like to dump things out and investigate.  We were never allowed to explore before.  There wasn't anything to explore.    Our favorite thing is that when we go places, we always come right back to the same house.  Home is something new.   

 

 

The good news?  We are growing more attached to you.  We just can't stand it when you leave the room.  You'd probably prefer that we not sit on the rug and play during your bath, but we just love the feeling we get when we are with you.  Those little almond eyes you see under the bathroom door?  That'd be us.  There is a deep place within us that wonders if you'll leave us and never come back.    Could that be part of our story more than twice?

We might call everything around us "mama", but in our hearts, we are learning who you are.  You are different from all the ladies who have taken care of us.  Something in us just knows. 

 

 

As you can tell, we require a wee bit of extra grace.  You didn't think it was funny when we stuffed things in the toilet,  dumped toys in the tub and turned on the water, peed on the couch, filled toy dishes with water and played on the carpet, smeared spaghetti sauce in our hair that had already been washed twice, got into the medicine cabinet and ripped pages out of your library book.  There were probably a few more incidents, but let's stop there.  There might be some words that you said that we shouldn't repeat.  And those "child safety" things you just installed?   Probably a real good idea.  Can you keep showing us grace?  We're just checking out our new world.  Deep breaths might be a good idea as well. 

 

 

Keep singing "Jesus Loves Me" into our ears.  It just feels good to hear.   Someday soon we'll learn the words. 

 

 

Just for a passing minute sometimes, do you ever think about life before all this and miss it?  Yea, us too.   Let's not forget though that God's made us some promises and He writes stories with great endings.


Don't worry so much about us learning to talk.  Our ears just need more time taking in all the English.   You sound so different from the nannies. 

 

 

You've got baskets of books everywhere.  We think they might be something special.  The sitting still thing while you read is a bit hard for us, but please don't stop trying.  Your lap feels good, and the cadence of your voice a comfort.  Be patient. 

 

American food is funny, isn't it?   We didn't eat this kind of stuff in China.  Give us time, and please serve lots of rice and noodles.  We'll get used to the rest. 

 

 

When we first came home, you were doing well just to give us all baths and put clothes on us.  You sure have come along way.   You and dad are SO productive now.  It's like you got on a mission to handle it all.  The week's plan on the fridge seems to make you feel good.  That's impressive and all, but instead of an empty dishwasher and a plan, maybe we could just BE together.  When you take the time to hold us, look in our eyes, and react to our smiles and cries, something new stirs in our hearts.   

 

Thanks for the healthy meals and folded clothes in our drawers, but maybe one day we could just eat hot dogs, wear the same clothes two days in a row and dance in the kitchen.  Baba has some great moves.  Sounds like more fun than what you have on your agenda. 

 

 

We get the feeling you'd like for us to sleep a bit better at night.  Sometimes when we cry or come down and stand by your bed, you seem really grumpy.  Remember that we used to sleep in a room with all our friends.  At Heartbridge there were even night nurses who would play with us if we woke up at midnight.  Its kind of scary when we wake up and you aren't in the room.  The good news is that this is a sign that we are attaching to you. 

 

 

And outside?  So cool.  That's new to us too.  Let's go out there more.  We'll try to remember not to walk in the road. 

 

 

You might think that you haven't been a good mom to us, but you are the best mommy we've ever had.  When your head hits the pillow at night, you might run through your failures and regrets, but all we are counting is the ways that you loved us.  Just keep the extra grace coming, for us and yourself too.   It's fun being a party of six. 

 

Love,

Elijah and Evelyn

 

PS: We promise to start sleeping all night, late even, REALLY soon.