resilience

He stands at the front door each afternoon and waits for her.

"Tessa...school bus!"

He says it again and again until he sees the big yellow bus pull up in front of our house, anxiously awaiting the arrival home of his big sister and the resumption of play and laughter and noise. His little heart seems to cling to these regularities, the assurance of a familiar schedule, when the people he loves come and go with predictability, and when those who leave always return to him again.

My son inspires me. He is a daily reminder of the great beauty and strength of the human spirit. He reminds me of our God-given capacity to withstand great heartache, fear, and trauma, and still live on. We can overcome, we can press forward, hopeful and resilient. We live with scars and also possess the ability to heal and recover, changed and refined by our hardships, and somehow, miraculously, wiser and kinder in spite of them, because of them. We need not be ashamed of them, for these things make us beautiful and unique.

My little boy has a strong spirit, a determined spirit. He is a fighter and will not easily give up. His capacity for love is fierce. He is a protector, a willful little guy who knows what he wants, how he feels, and is unafraid to show it and defend it. He feels things deeply, both grief and joy. His smile lights up an entire room.

Children accept things with an innocence that moves me. Their eyes perceive and understand the world with a simplicity that I often find disarming. I remember one day, last summer, shortly after we'd arrived home with Ren. The children and I were playing in the back yard on the swing set and a neighbor came over to meet us. Tess proudly introduced Ren to our neighbor friend. She said "This is Ren. He's my brother. He's from China!" She stated it matter-of-factly, as if it was the most natural arrangement in the world, as if she'd always known him and loved him and been bound to him by blood. No questions asked. She sees all the things that bind them together, not the things that make them different. We are family. Genetics, ethnicity, heritage, culture. These things are irrelevant. The biggest ties that bind are made of spiritual matter.

My son puts his little hand against the glass door, listening for the distant hum of the school bus as it turns onto our street. The first thing he says when we wakes in the morning is "Tessa? Lucy?," as he inquires after the whereabouts of his sisters. He drapes the full weight of his body over mine at night as we rock and sing, his arms and legs wrap around me like a koala. His head lies heavy on my shoulder and I can feel our chests sink into one another as we breath. When Chris is home on the weekends, Ren is his shadow, trailing his heels, a little man in the making, intrinsically tied to the physical, adventurous, and playful domain that his dad inhabits. My boy displays an ability to love courageously in places that have been previously hurt. I have watched him begin to rest and settle into us with time.

In a world full of ample reasons to remain cynical, untrusting, and isolated, my children are daily reminders that there is always another way, a better way. The resilience of the human spirit, its ability and trust and hope again, to overcome and live, is perhaps the most powerful thing of all.

here we go.

It's hard to believe that it was only three weeks ago that I last posted. It feels more like three months ago. June has been a time warp. I'm pretty sure I just over-dosed our dog on her heart worm medication because I was convinced it had been at least six weeks since I last gave it to her. In reality, it's only been half that time.

What's even harder to believe, though, is that tomorrow we start our long journey to get our son in China. It has been a long road and it feels surreal to be so close to meeting him for the first time. It's almost too much to wrap my mind and heart around.

I think I have cycled through every possible emotion over the past few days: doubt, fear, excitement, elation, strength, weakness, boldness, sorrow, panic, peace, shock. Most of this just results in a lot of tears because I don't know how to hold all of this emotion simultaneously. Waterworks, for real.

Overall, I've felt pensive. So many thoughts and feelings, but the words have been hard to come by. We got our travel approval eight days ago and it's just now that I've felt capable of putting any words down. The quiet, detached, brooding Lib has shown up a lot over the past few days. She's the same girl that used to show up at track meets right before my event was called, right before it was time to run as fast as I could towards the finish line.

Today is our last day as a family of four. I've been trying to soak in these last moments with the girls before leaving them tomorrow for about two-and-a-half weeks. I've never left them for that long and the momma-bear in me has a hard time letting go. Last night, Chris said, "Babe, it's like you're going into labor, only the hospital is in China and you won't be home for almost three weeks." I can't say I've ever had a labor experience like this before, and I'm pretty sure there's no epidural for what lies ahead.

Yet despite the fear and insecurities that show up on a regular basis, I am SO ready to do this. My heart is full of excitement. I am ready for this. I am ready to go get our boy. BRING. IT. ON.

In church last Sunday morning we watched this movie put out by The Gospel Project. The movie depicts the grand narrative of the Bible as one story, the story of redemption through Jesus. This three-minute video has been floating around in my mind all week, and each time I think of it, I get so pumped up. It reminds me of how our journey to get Ren has been a powerful manifestation of the gospel story in my own life. It's been a story of light shining into darkness, a story of awakening, a story of fighting against so many lies that tell me I can't or shouldn't have embarked on this journey. It's been a story of love and freedom and hope. It's a story of a grand adventure with my God, the master Story Teller, and this is just the beginning. I feel so grateful to be a part of it all.

We leave at 7am tomorrow morning. The first leg is dropping off the girls with my parents. Then we fly back to SFO, then to Beijing, and then from Beijing to Zhengzhou, the capital of Henan province, where Ren is (in red).

We will meet Ren for the first time on Monday, June 2! We will meet him at the civil affairs office in Zhengzhou and we will get to keep him with us for the remainder of the trip. We will be in Zhengzhou for the rest of next week, and then we fly south to Guangzhou (next to Hong Kong), where we will apply for his US Visa (the US Consulate is in Guangzhou). On the way home, we will take a bus from Guangzhou to Hong Kong, then fly out of Hong Kong to Tokyo, then Tokyo to SFO. We will be back in the US with our son, Lord willing, on July 14th!

His crib is an arm's reach from my side of the bed. It's all made up and ready to go for our big R! It's crazy to think that his sweet body will by lying there soon enough. I can hardly believe this is all happening!

Thank you all SO MUCH for your love, support, encouragement, and prayers. A MASSIVE thanks to my parents--this would not be possible without you both! Thanks to all of our friends and family who have consistently uplifted us with encouraging words and prayer over the past year and a half. We love you and we are so grateful for you! We covet your continued prayers over the next few weeks.

when it counts

Wow. Well, life is getting pretty intense around here. Things are changing and happening so quickly, which I am grateful for. After existing in a place that has felt like purgatory for a long time, I'm so thankful that the wheels are finally turning faster on this journey towards our son. We aren't out of the woods yet, but we are starting to make out the faint edges of our destination on the hazy horizon. We are embarking down the final stretch of this journey, and despite the fatigue, our legs are carrying us faster in anticipation of the finish line. In Dr. Seuss terms, we are preparing to depart from the dreaded "Waiting Place." Praise God, for real. We can't wait to experience what He has in store for us on the other side of this terminal.

So, here's the latest. We got an email a few days ago from the U.S. Consulate in Guangzhou, China, notifying us that our Article 5 (another big bunch of paperwork) had already been processed and was being sent on to the CCCWA (China Center for Children's Welfare and Adoption), which is the LAST LINE OF APPROVAL! If everything goes as anticipated, the CCCWA should issue our travel approval sometime within the next couple weeks, and then we will travel to China about three weeks after that. According to this timeline (which our agency assures us is pretty reliable), we will be departing for China sometime in early-mid July!

We are getting so excited and already making preparations for travel. I have a million to-do lists scribbled in my steno pad. I am buying boy clothes and have already started a suitcase for Ren boy. (So far the clothing theme seems to be "surfer dude"...I found him some dope Hurley duds!) I'm setting our travel paperwork aside in its own folder and I'm going to get my immunizations for China later this week. I got Chris and I a new pair of summery closed-toe walking shoes, as flip-flops aren't very culturally appropriate in China. I also ordered a brand new ERGO to carry Ren around in...and get this...so cool...within an hour of it arriving on my door step...my neighbor and dear friend Jami came by my house to bring me hers...she doesn't need it anymore! So, I returned the one I ordered and got my $$$ back. Every little bit helps and sweet gifts such as these mean a lot!

Lucy and I decided to try it out on a walk to the park...we loved it.

I also FINALLY got our travel visas for China after multiple trips to the Chinese Consulate in downtown San Francisco. The second trip there was not without drama, as my car got broken into that morning...the whole passenger window smashed to smithereens.

They only took my $5 iPhone charger...

and whatever money we saved by not hiring a courier was negated...and then some...from damages.

oh well...you win some...you lose some...

and thankfully it was perfect weather for driving home with the windows open. 

I've never been so happy to leave SF in my life!

We also had our travel call with our family care coordinator at our agency on Monday, who briefed us on what "Gotcha Day" will probably look like and how to be prepared. She spent a lot of time discussing what this massive transition will be like for Warren and described this whole ordeal from his perspective. We know that as elated as we are to see him, he may not feel the same way about us, and she talked through how to handle all of that. As she was talking to us about what it might be like, I started imagining the scene in my mind and my eyes started to well up. To be honest, I've pictured that scene a million times in my head already, and every single time it chokes me up, but something about hearing someone else describe it really got me. I'm going to be a mess! It's going to be intense. It's going to be awesome.

I have a lot of doubts and fears. I hope I will respond in the best way possible and do everything I can in those critical moments to show our son love and tenderness while allowing him to feel all that he is feeling. He will have had to say goodbye to his foster mom already, as they move the foster children back into the orphanage about a week or two before their adoptive family comes to get them. He will be grieving that loss and change, only to be hurled into another massive transition when they hand him over to us crazy white people who speak funny and smell weird and keep trying to give him candy. My heart hurts as I ponder what might be going through his little mind amidst all of the scary transitions.

All of this kind of reminds me of when I was a nurse, taking ACLS and BLS classes, studying over and over how to respond when someones's life is on the line. You memorize the numerous algorithms--the drugs and doses and procedures for how to resuscitate someone--but you always wonder if you'll remember it when it really counts. Will you remember to open the airway before you start giving rescue breaths? Will you remember which medication corresponds to which arrhythmia and how many minutes apart to administer it? Will you freeze up or will you be able to apply the training to a real life situation? I've been reading and learning about all the text-book rules for encouraring attachment with Ren, but will these translate to reality--in the chaotic moments when it really matters?

The good thing is I know I don't need to be perfect, and I know that this is going to be a journey (aka: a ginormous learning process) for all of us. I know there is help along the way when we need it--praise God--because I know I'm going to need it. A massive thanks to you guys for reading and supporting us and praying for us. Please pray that our travel approval comes promptly...and in God's perfect timing...because if I've learned anything from this whole endeavor, it's that His timing really is perfect...in ways I can't even begin to describe.

sultry summer.

I made a new playlist the other week. It's called Sultry Summer. The title just kind of came to me. The mix has been playing on my iPod almost constantly. One of the songs on the playlist is "It's Time to Move On" by Tom Petty; track three from the album Wildflowers.

It's time to move on

It's time to get goin'

What lies ahead

I have no way of knowin'

but under my feet, babe

the grass is growin'

yeah it's time to move on...

Story of my life. I remember first listening to the song as I rode along I-26 on the bus ride home from our 8th grade school trip to Seabrook Island, SC. I was fourteen years old. It was the end of the school year, the end of my first year back in America, and I was about to switch schools again...I was about to start high school.

It's funny, the things we remember, isn't it? I've carried that moment on the bus with me me all these years. The song always triggers that memory. It signifies the sultry heat and salty tears associated with saying goodbye. The folky tune is what I imagine change sounds like.

***

Historically, summer has meant a lot change for me, and this summer is no different. It seemed that the big moves my family made often took place during the summertime. When we lived oversees in England, we'd come back to the States for the summer, and for those six weeks back in my passport country, I was struck each time with how much I was growing and changing apart from it. Each time I returned, the harder it was to identify with my native land. Going back to England at the summer's end felt more like home...and yet it wasn't quite home either.

The end of the school year in also England meant saying goodbye to friends forever--not just for the summer break. Friends who were from Sweden or Japan or South Africa were going back to their native countries, or perhaps onto another foreign land, and good-bye truly meant good-bye. "See you later" was not in our vocabulary.

When we finally moved back to the States, I transitioned into a tiny private school with a class size of about 32. Most of the kids had gone to that school since kindergarden and they all knew each other. At age 13, I was struggling to fit back into a country where I suddenly felt like an immigrant. I made some friends but I felt that there was this huge part of me that was hidden and isolated. I didn't know how to incorporate my overseas experiences into this new environment. I might as well have been from Mars.

I only stayed at that school for a year. Then I went to a different school for my freshman and sophomore years of high school. Then we moved again to a different city where I finished off junior and senior years. Then I was off to somewhere new for college and then I transferred to another school after freshman year. Then, eventually, I joined the military, go figure, and for the past decade, the cycle has repeated from one time zone to the next to the next.

***

The other night, Chris and I were driving home from Davis. We were talking about relationship stuff and Chris said to me:

"You really have some sort of outsider complex."

Gulp.

I just kind nodded my head and said, "Yeah, I know."

The outsider. That girl who is a part of things and yet still remains apart from things. I suppose I feel like her, standing alone, always with one foot in and one foot out. She sort of belongs...but not quite.

Change has been almost constant for me. Playing the role of "the new girl"and trying to break into pre-established circles of friends that are sometimes rooted deep in years of history is a pattern in my story. It leaves me feeling both motivated and isolated, both challenged and tired of trying. I learned this pattern during a crucial time in my development, and as an adult, I think I've learned to perpetuate it.

I think I'm coming to realize that it's okay to just be me though. Gosh, that sounds cliche, does it not? But in the flux of so much change and transition, I have not known who "me" is. I am slowly starting to figure it out though, and I'm learning that who I am at the core is not determined by which country I happen to live in, which circles of friends I currently run in, or whether or not people understand every aspect of me.

***

A few years ago the term "Third Culture Kid" (TCK) was introduced to me through an essay one of my classmates wrote. A TCK "is someone who has spent a significant period of time in one or more culture(s) other than his or her own, thus integrating elements of those cultures and their own birth culture, into a third culture." These changes typically take place during the highly formative years of childhood/adolescence.

Anyhow, Chris's outsider comment got me thinking about the whole TCK thing again and I started reading a bit more about it. I've been astounded by how much it resonates with my experience. Something I recently read on the subject struck me:

"...one of the major areas in working with TCKs is that of dealing with the issue of unresolved grief. They are always leaving or being left. Relationships are short-lived. At the end of each school year, a certain number of the student body leaves, not just for the summer, but for good...Most TCKs go through more grief experiences by the time they are 20 than monocultural individuals do in a lifetime."

I also read that TCKs "cope" rather than "adjust." We adapt, find niches, take risks, fall and pick ourselves up again...we feel at home everywhere and nowhere...and most of us never truly adjust back to life in America. And then there's that part about how we don't learn problem-solving skills in relationships because we can always simply leave a problem without resolving it. We carry our baggage to the next location and watch it play out in new relationships...until we can leave again. (Ouch.)

The more I come to understand this part of my story, the more I am starting to understand where my identity struggle/outsider complex comes from. This doesn't explain everything, but it does explain some things. I can understand more of why making new friends can be easy and painful at the same time, and why I become detached when I have to say goodbye to people. So many meaningful relationships have been woven in and out of my life so many times...and most of them are only for a season. Sometimes it feels shamefully easy to let go of them...but only because it's so incredibly painful to let go, if that makes sense.

But, despite the growing pains, I am also seeing the beautiful things that God has written into my story as a result of these experiences. The book I was reading through states that "while TCKs are cultural outsiders in their own passport country, 88% can relate to anyone, regardless of differences in race, ethnicity, religion, or nationality. They generally credit their third culture background with positively influencing their adult lives."

I know that my childhood and adolescent experiences burned a passion into my heart to reach beyond the limitations of my native country. There is this energy and drive inside of me that longs to identify with others who know what it means to leave people and places that feel like home and start over in a place that feels foreign. I tend to relate to those who feel like outsiders...who tend to lurk on the fringe. And while I realize that the scenarios of our stories are incredibly different, one name kept coming to mind as I've pondered all of this:

Ren.

When we receive him into our arms he will have to say goodbye to everything he has known. At such a young age he will know profound grief. This will be part of his story.

While I understand that in many ways I cannot possibly know what this is like for him, I can recognize a few ways that I can. I also know that on some deep, guttural level, loving him will perhaps soothe the sense longing and grief that I carry inside of me because of the story God has given me. The further I travel this journey to my son, the more I hear God whisper:


This is your son and I have equipped you to be his mother. I created you to do this.


If things continue to go as planned, we will be in China within two months, sweating in the sultry July humidity, our lives forever changed for the better. I can't wait to be overseas again, and far more, I can't wait to hold my son in my arms.

***

Quotes taken from "According To My Passport, I'm Coming Home" by Kay Branaman Eakin, online at http://www.state.gov/documents/organization/2065.pdf

French Press

is becoming a habit. I used to only pull it out for special occasions, and then one day I thought, that's silly...why not use it everyday?

I like the little swirly thing the coffee does with the different shades of brown. You don't get that effect with regular drip coffee because the filter catches all the oils from the beans.

Coffee is one of the greatest gifts of God to man. I have needed a lot of it to keep me going this week. Chris is at the gym with the girls and I stayed behind to recharge a bit. This quiet time at home on Saturday mornings is becoming my time to make French press and write and reflect on the week.

This week we have been recovering from the intensity of our house-hunting trip and the girls have been adjusting too. I think we are still all settling back in. Chris and I got home around 11pm on Easter and we hit the ground running on Monday. Our LOC showed up on our doorstep on Monday afternoon, so the rest of this week has been like a return to this time last year, when I was up to my ears in dossier paperwork. The arrival of our LOC launched the last leg of paperwork to get our boy, including another massive stack to be sent to US Immigration and another stack to be sent back to our agency. We are in the final round of getting immigration approval for our boy and also applying for his visa into the country. This process has so many steps and layers, it's hard to keep track, but it's all becoming very real. I mailed out the I-800 and LOC package to immigration on Thursday. I checked and rechecked and re-re-re-re-re-checked that sucker. We can't afford for it to be sent back to us and redone for minor errors. It's meticulous and tedious and it makes my head hurt just thinking about it, but I pray that every box was checked, every "i" dotted and "t" crossed. Whew!

I just got to thinking the other day that I should probably start buying boy clothes. I suppose I've waited because 1) I didn't really know what size to buy for Ren, and 2) It just didn't seem real yet that we'd actually end up with a son at the end of this process. Perhaps this sounds strange, but I've been staring at papers for over a year now, and I think there's still a part of me that wonders if we'll just end up with a big stack of paper at the end of this...a paper child, so to speak. I suppose it's similar to carrying a biological child and feeling like you'll be pregnant forever...that no child will actually come out of this whole deal. But this past week I started to wrap my mind around the reality that there WILL BE a BEAUTIFUL flesh and blood BOY when this is all said and done. And he will need boy clothes...and boy toys. My denial is waning. Move over Barbie, it's time for some planes, trains, and automobiles!

In the midst of regrouping, unpacking, doing laundry, and paper-chasing, we have also been bidding on a house all week. Chris and I have been searching for rental properties as a back up plan, or just as a potentially better plan than buying, but each and every house that we found had "just been rented" to someone else. These properties had also "just been listed," so it seemed like God was closing the door to renting. Long story short, after a long week of praying and counter-offering, we have agreed on a sale price with the seller of this home and we are under contract! We still have some hurdles to get through...the appraisal and the inspection...but we are really excited.

Sometimes I don't like writing "update" type blog posts...it can tend to feel tedious and tiring...but I want to remember everything that's happening with us and how all of these events are transpiring. There's so much more to share, so I hope to write more in the coming days and weeks. That's it for now. Gotta clean house for my Red Tent Dinner tonight!

the longer the wait, the greater the ache

I ordered some prints of Ren last week. This one came out the best, so now I get to stare at my sweet boy while I work at my desk.

Still no LOC. We continue to pray. Meanwhile, the days tick by, one by one. I finally got in touch with the home study agency in VA and found out what would be entailed in "updating" our home study. As it turns out, update is really just a nice word for REDO. The lady I spoke with talked about getting all of our background checks re-done, our medical appointments re-done, as well as the fees involved in everything.

Chris and I just spoke with Tiffany about the implications of moving before we get Ren and thus having to redo our home study. We are looking at a seven month delay, at least. SEVEN MONTHS, starting this summer, which means we might not get him until this winter. Seven more months that Ren would be living in an orphanage. All the paperwork I've dedicated the past year to doing would be suddenly undone. Essentially, we would be starting from scratch.

I'm not going to lie. The thought of all of that feels crushing. It's like being in the third trimester of pregnancy, only to be told that the clock is winding back to the first trimester (and all of the fatigue, morning sickness, and constipation that comes with it), except you'll still be as big as you are in the third trimester. The worst of both worlds. That's the best analogy I can think of.

So, we are going to do everything we can to stay in CA as long as possible, to ensure that our son is in our arms by this summer. We have emailed our future tenants, asking if they could possibly move in a month or two later than planned. We are praying that's an option for them.

This process never seizes to amaze me. Stressful times...and ample opportunities to place this whole thing back into God's hands...because I try to take it into mine hundreds of times everyday.

The longer the wait...the greater the ache. Lately it's felt unbearable.

Today I'm thankful for the bright spring sunshine, warm temperatures, music, coffee, brownies, and friendship, which always seem to soothe the ache. I was going to make some biscotti today because I knew it'd make me feel better, but I'm too tired. Maybe tomorrow...

In the meantime...reciting this in my head...

"Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him."  --Ps 37:7

So good...and so hard.

humble mug

One of my favorite moments of the day:

It is early afternoon and sunlight pours through the kitchen windows. I open the cupboard above the coffee pot and scan the shelves for a mug.  I have my favorites. Some I prefer for the morning, some for the afternoon. This is one of my top picks for afternoon coffee.

It is an old purchase from Pier One. I bought it about seven years ago, during Chris's and my first year of marriage. It has a big chip on the rim now, a scar from multiple moves and hundreds of loads through the dishwasher. It wears its imperfection. It is plain in comparison to some of the other mugs on the shelf. Still, it is sturdy, it retains heat well, and it holds the perfect amount of coffee. I hope to someday wear my imperfections as well as this humble mug does. I still try to cover mine up.

Chris came home for lunch today, which was a treat. He had grand-rounds at UC Davis this morning and stopped in on his way back to clinic. We sat at the kitchen table together and talked more about our future, Ren, all the variables that we can't control. After mulling through what-if's and a variety of different scenarios, we always come full circle, right back to where we started, back to this truth: live in the present. One day at a time. Pray. Trust. 

But I am squirming. It is hard for me to know the difference between the things I can control and the things I can't.  It is hard to take action on the things I can and must do to prepare for the future, while still surrendering to those things I can't do to prepare. It's The Serenity Prayer in action. It is walking a tight rope.

I don't like this, I told Chris. I need to do something that will help me stay in the present, I said.  What will help you do that? he asked. Drink coffee, I replied. So here I am, drinking coffee out of my humble mug, finding some release in the writing process. Chris left to go back to work and I am here, I am now, and it is okay.

I called an adoption agency in VA this morning that does home studies. I am trying to prepare for the worst case scenario--worst case being that we won't get our LOC in time to get Ren before the move. It is my worst case scenario, though it occurred to me this morning that it might be God's plan. He knows things about this whole thing that I don't. Maybe it will be best for everyone involved if we don't bring Ren home until we are all settled into our home in VA this fall. I'm cringing inside as I write that. But maybe, just maybe, from a long-term perspective and in the overall grand scheme of things, that would be best. I guess I am willing to consider that.

As poetry-goddess Mary Oliver says:

Also I wanted to be able to love

And we all know how that one goes, don't we?

Slowly

Love is a slow and steady process. Loving Ren might mean we have to wait longer than we thought to get him. It might mean we have to wait an excruciatingly long time. We are his forever family. Forever is slow. Forever is long.

My mind keeps coming back to this today. How to live:

REJOICE ALWAYS
PRAY WITHOUT CEASING
IN EVERYTHING GIVE THANKS
--1 Thessalonians 5.18

Joy+Prayer+Gratitude=Peace

Not an easy equation to master, but this is what I'm shooting for.

What is one of your favorite moments of the day?  What helps you to stay grounded in the present?

Big Ren!

It's a rainy, English day here in Nor Cal.  I'm sitting at my desk, watching the raindrops hit my window, wondering how to start this post, which has been slowly brewing inside of me for the past several weeks.

A lot has been progressing behind the scenes in the process to bring our boy home.  Several weeks ago, I got a call from Tiffany, our case manager, who was elated to tell us she got some updates back on our boy.  I was driving in downtown San Francisco when she called, trying to navigate through construction, one-way streets, and cable cars as she told me the latest news on Ren. It was a miracle I didn't crash.

And as it turns out, our little dude...

is not so little anymore...

Big Ren is 15 months old now and is in the 99th percentile for weight (though he was most likely weighed in all of these clothes). He is walking and talking and feeding himself! He is not only pointing to objects he wants, but he is stealing them from the other kids, which means he'll fit in perfectly with Tess and Lu. We submitted several questions to his orphanage/foster family and all of the feedback was great. In their words, he is "smart and cute." We couldn't agree more!

Looking at these photos of him make me light up. I can't help but smile. The joy is unstoppable. It just bubbles up with every glance at him!

As Tiffany and I talked that day, we also realized that there were some glitches with our homestudy, as Ren is slightly older than the age-range we were originally approved for.  Also, his special need fell outside of our approved parameters, so for the past two weeks, I've been working on getting our homestudy revised and resubmitted to our US immigration officer, who will now need to "re-approve" us. More paper-pushing, more $$, but one more step closer to our guy.  

(I've almost got this address memorized)

We don't have any clear dates yet on when we will get him, only that we will most likely be traveling sometime in May--July, right smack-dab in the middle of our move.  The past month has held quite a bit of confusion and uncertainty regarding how we should pray and what we should prioritize.  We've been wondering if it's best to try and get the move done before we bring Ren home, thereby providing him with more stability once we are stateside.  This seemed better than bringing him home to California, only to have to pack up our house and move across the country a few weeks later.  

However, after weeks of trying to get some clear-cut answers from our agency on how our move will impact this adoption process, we feel that God has helped us narrow down our focus.  Long story short, we need to bring Ren home to CA before we move.  If we don't, we'll be required to do a whole new homestudy in our new home in Virginia, which could delay traveling to get him for several months. It could mean the difference between going to get him this spring versus this fall, not to mention that re-doing a homestudy from scratch would be my personal version of living hell.

Since finally pinning down our agency on this matter yesterday, Chris and I feel a sense of urgency and a clear focus on how we need to praying...

Bottom-line: we need to get our boy home.  Stat. 

We are scheduled to move out of our CA home by June 30th, which means we need to be home with Ren from China by then, which means that hopefully, we'll be leaving to get him by the beginning of June at the latest.  In order for this to happen, we need a little piece of paper from the Chinese government called a Letter Seeking Confirmation (LOC).  This document basically means that China officially approves us to adopt Ren.  Once we have our LOC, we will travel about three months later, which means we must get it sometime within the next couple of weeks in order to be on track.

COULD YOU PLEASE JOIN US IN PRAYING FOR THIS?

We feel like this is our top priority right now--to get our boy home--and we will deal with the details of the move after that.  So much of this is out of our control. We are at the mercy of Chinese and American bureaucracies, but we know that God has control over it all...even the multiple rolls of red-tape still before us!

Thanks so much for your prayer and support. We are excited to see God work and so excited to hold our big guy in our arms!

Introducing...

"I may infuse within you a dream that seems far beyond your reach.  You know that in yourself you cannot achieve such a goal.  Thus begins your journey of profound reliance on Me."  --Jesus Calling

The phone call came unexpectedly on an idle Tuesday morning. I was standing over the stove, sautéing chopped onions and diced tomatoes, when I realized I'd left my cell phone in my car after returning home from Costco about an hour earlier. As I brought my phone back inside, I saw that I'd missed a call from Tiffany, our case manager at our adoption agency. She hadn't left a message, and my heart started beating faster.

This is it, I thought.  She's calling to tell us she's found our son.

There was no other reason I could think of for her phone call, and because it was the beginning of the month, I knew that more children had just been uploaded to the Chinese orphan databank. As I cradled my phone in my hand, it started ringing.  It was Tiffany again.  I was terrified to answer it.

I've rehearsed what this phone call would be like a million times over. I have always imagined joyous screams and laughter...not my current reaction, which was the sudden urge to say, "No, I'm not ready for this!" and hang up on her. I made it through "Hello" and she said the words I was both elated and terrified to hear: "I think I found a referral for your family!"

I walked the phone back to Chris, who was providentially home from work and sitting at his desk. I put Tiffany on speaker and we listened as she started telling us about the boy who might be our son. As we were on the phone with her, she emailed us his entire file. We opened up the attachments. We saw the photos. We were instantly captivated.

As we gazed at his adorable face, my fear dwindled down and my heart raced wildly with excitement. Oh my goodness, this was happening, this was really happening! He might be ours. I felt it in my bones. This was our boy, our Ren, our beautiful boy. I desperately hoped this was him.

The following days were a race to collect information, fill out and notarize more documents, seek our social worker's approval, and get feedback from an international adoption pediatrician. Our potential son's file was on lock for our family, but we had to gather all of this information before we could come back with an official "yes" for our agency. And after 48 hours of paper chasing, phone conferences, long discussions, a lot of prayer, and gazing at this precious boy's face a thousand times...we have said...

YES!!!

So, we would like to introduce you to the newest and arguably cutest member of the Kurz clan:

Warren Robert Kurz, aka "Ren"

Born on 21 November 2010

We started this process just over a year ago. It's crazy to think that Ren was just one month old when we mailed off our official adoption application to AGCI. The waiting has been extremely difficult and we know it will get harder, as we most likely won't travel to get him for another 4-6 months, but we are overflowing with joy to know who he is, where he is, and to start the final stage of our journey toward him.

Last weekend, Chris and I both sat down separately to write a 2011 Kurz family newsletter to send out to our friends and family. We each attempted to recap what last year looked like for our family, and we both abandoned our attempts--it just didn't feel right--and for good reason, as this life changing news was about to hit us the following day. And, as always, God knew exactly what He was doing and when the perfect time would be for it. This entire journey has been a constant reminder of the truth expressed in Psalm 31:14-15, which I happened to read the morning we received the news:

But as for me, I trust in You, O Lord;

I say "You are my God,"

My times are in Your hand.

To God be all the praise and glory. He is a Father to the fatherless, our healer, our redeemer. We are continually amazed at His love for us, at His constant work on our behalf, at His incredible and constant presence in our lives, even when we can't always see or feel it.

We want to thank all of you for following us along on this journey, for your prayers and support, and we ask that you continue to lift us up in prayer as we are going to need it in the months to come.

I will close with a quote from a book, The Quotidian Mysteries, that I finished reading a few weeks ago. It eloquently captures some of the places our hearts and minds have treaded over the past year:

"We are asked to make all that we have been taught and trained to do--as nurses, educators, theologians, poets, doctors, secretaries, accountants or what-have-you--available to God. Especially when human need is at its greatest, and we know ourselves to be incapable of meeting that need on our own, we are asked to find our strength in Jesus Christ. And we are asked to make our most serious and intimate commitments with very little idea of how long they will last, or what will be required of us."  --Kathleen Norris