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.

a tree in a story about a forest

Several weeks ago I said that I wanted to spend some time talking about books that have meant something to me over the past few years. I thought I'd continue that discussion today.

It's difficult for me to do really thorough book reviews, because when it comes to books that I love, it's hard to know where to stop. I could probably talk for days on end about all the ideas, thoughts, and dreams that get stirred up inside of me when I read a book that I love. One little blog post is insufficient to relay what a particular book means to me, because I think that a good book becomes a very personal thing and intersects with some deep emotional places within us.

Anyhow, moving on with my insufficient blog post. The book I want to talk about is A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller. I've actually written a post about this book before, a few years ago, closer to the time when the book was released. But the other night I couldn't get to sleep and the book was flashing at me like a strobe light from the dark book shelf. So I picked it up and started to read it again.

A friend of mine once said that you know what your favorite book is by the number of times you've read it. I think this is true. My favorite books are those that never get old no matter how many times I've read them. They become new each time and I connect with the characters or the message in new ways, depending on what's going on inside of me. So, I suppose this book by Donald Miller should be added to my favorites list, right along with Family Happiness by Tolstoy and East of Eden by Steinbeck.

The first time I read this book, I was about eight months pregnant with Lucy. I read it in bed as I felt her perform gymnastics inside of me. I think it got her excited too. I was so pumped up about the premise of the book--the idea of "living a good story"--and I was excited about how this book converged with so many things I'd been studying in my MFA program. The book planted a big seed inside of me...a seed that started to germinate about a year and a half ago when we started the adoption process.

I picked the book up for the second time when Chris and I were fervently praying about adopting. The words in this book were the push I needed to start the process when we did. It inspired me and told me it was okay to be afraid. It reminded me that if we wait for the perfect time to start living a good story, we never will. So we jumped in with both feet, hoping and praying that God, the Author, would work out the kinks in timing. Suddenly I felt like Chris and I were making an intentional and calculated move to live a better story and this was exciting. Something deep inside of me that had been dormant for a long time--perhaps forever--had opened it's eyes and started to see clearly.

And now, here we are, only about 6 weeks away (Lord willing) from getting our little guy, and I'm re-reading this book again. The adoption journey has been it's own story, one that is just beginning in so many ways. I think I understand words like "process" and "waiting" and "patience" and "trust" better now than I did a year ago, and I also better understand what Donald Miller means when he writes that "you become the character in the story you are living, and whatever you were is gone." I'm starting to wrap my mind around the idea that it's not necessarily about the conclusion, but how the character is changed by the story at hand, and I can see a lot of ways that this story is changing me.

I read a part of the book earlier today that really hit me, so I wanted to spend some time talking about it. It's so in line with so much that I've learned just in the past month so it got me really psyched when I read it. Donald Miller writes (paraphrased),

I was a tree in a story about a forest and it was arrogant of me to believe any differently...and the story of the forest is better than the story of the tree...and I asked God to help me understand the story of the forest and what it meant to be a tree in that story.

I mentioned in a recent post that I had the opportunity to speak at Celebrate Recovery several weeks ago. I was so scared. I seriously thought I was going to hyperventilate before getting up on stage. But one thing I kept telling myself as I sat in that chair in the auditorium, my hands sweaty and my heart palpitating, was that this is not about me. My sponsor kept telling me that too. "This isn't about you," she'd say. And I knew it was true. It was about God and the story He was telling through my life, and it was just my job to put it into words and to speak those words into a microphone so that other people in that dark sanctuary could hear about it. It wasn't my job to know how my words might impact the story that God was telling through other people or to worry about whether or not my story was important enough to be told. It's kind of my story because I'm living it, but ultimately, it's not about me.

This thought did help me push through my fear of public speaking. It silenced the voices in my head that tell me my story isn't extreme or important enough to be told. When I could view my life as a small chapter or sub plot in the epic, eternal tale that God is writing, then it freed me from caring so much about what people thought of my story or what judgements they'd make on me. It really took a lot of the burden off and made me excited to share about what God had written in my life so far. It allowed me to take myself seriously enough to speak, but not so seriously that I'd buckle up in fear. It made me want to speak so that I could bring Him praise, and I am learning that life is so much more meaningful when it becomes about Him--when it stops becoming about striving to bring myself praise for a story that's not really mine anyhow.

I read this verse the other day:

"Therefore by Him let us continually offer the sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of our lips, giving thanks to His name. But do not forget to do good and to share, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased." Heb 13:15-16

How is praise a sacrifice? I thought about it. It felt like a sacrifice to get up on stage that night and praise His name. I feel like it should be easy to praise God in front of other people, but it was hard. I was nervous about it all week. I didn't sleep well and I spent a lot of time preparing and praying about what I wanted to share. It feels like a sacrifice to write on this blog sometimes, putting things out there for the faceless and nameless public to read. But regardless of comments or site-meters or popularity, something inside of me keeps spurring me on to share my life and my story with other people, even if it's just in this quiet corner of the blogosphere. It's not always up to me to control who hears...just that I keep offering the praise, the fruit of my lips.

I guess He's created us all to bring Him praise in different ways...sometimes we speak this praise, sometimes we write it, sometimes we sing it or play it on an instrument. Sometimes we run it, sometimes we draw it, sometimes we cry it, you fill in the blank. We live it in the stories He's writing for us and it's vital that we share it in the way He's designed us to.

Overall, I think that incredible things happen when we are open to sharing our tree stories with the other trees around us, because this gives us a deeper understanding of the forest story and how our tree fits into the forest.

Tess came home from preschool a while ago saying, "Sharing is Caring." How true that is. Sharing is caring...and sharing is sacrificial and scary too...and sharing gives our lives meaning.

I'll conclude with the words of the brilliant Mary Oliver:

"I don't want to live a small life. Open your eyes, open your hands."

***

What are some of your favorite books?
How does your tree fit into the forest story?
How is praise a sacrifice for you?
How do you share your story with others?

endings and beginnings

"To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go."

from "In Blackwater Woods" by Mary Oliver

***

I came to the end of my journal yesterday. I have gone through two journals in the past ten months, a new record for me. Writing on the last page of my journal yesterday felt symbolic--it was an image that captures the season of life I am currently walking through--a season of many endings which are quickly bleeding into a wild sea of change and fresh beginnings.

I bought a new journal at Target last week. It is bright pink and spiral bound. This morning was the first time I wrote in it. There's nothing like a new journal, a fresh page to write on, a book full of emptiness waiting expectantly to be filled with words, impressed by pens, and crinkled by fingertips. I wonder what will be written in this new journal. Amidst the clamor and chaos of this morning, feeding and clothing the littles, I only got to write one thing in this new journal, but I believe what I wrote is significant given the upcoming adventures this journal will contain. Exodus 33.14:

"My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest."

Regardless of the changes, uncertainty, and chaos ahead, I hope I am able to cling tightly to my God and find continual rest in His Presence.

***

Endings make my heart full. They are a time to reflect, commemorate, and celebrate. Sometimes it's hard to see growth and progress when you are in the thick of the journey, and I'm thankful for the moments when I can look back on the trail that was often too dark or windy to understand and slowly start to make sense of it. I may not know all of the "why's" but I can see how the girl who started the journey has been molded into a new creation. These moments are a gift and often become pillars of faith to cling to when the road dips into a valley again.

Last night was one such moment for me. I have been involved in a ministry called Celebrate Recovery for about a year now. This has been a trying year for me, one of immense change, soul-searching, and growth. At times I wanted to give up, throw in the towel, and say the whole thing was pointless. But last night I got to stand up on a stage in front of a lot of people and give praise to my God for the supernatural changes He's worked inside of me. There are so many changes and I feel butterflies in my stomach thinking about it all...all the possibilities ahead...all the ways the trials of this year have better equipped me as a mother to Ren and my girls.

But, as I shared up on stage last night, the biggest change I've experienced over the past year is coming to believe more deeply than ever that God loves me. This sounds like a pretty basic thing to believe as a Christian, but I've been a Christian for over fifteen years, and I would say that it's only in the past year that this truth has become alive and real to me.

My friend Tracy shared this quote by Dan Allender on Facebook last week:

"To meditate is to chew something over in your mind until it runs wet and sweet into your heart."

And so I would say that the biggest change over the past year is that I have learned to meditate on God's love for me...His love has been in my mind for years, but has now run wet and sweet into my heart...into my bones...into every breathing cell of my body...and every other positive change in my life is merely a ripple effect of His love.

Coming to know God's love more deeply is setting me free. This belief is so central to everything else. Believing this frees me to trust Him, which in turn frees me to stop trying to control my life and the lives of others. I can give this heavy burden back to the One who was meant to carry it all along, and I can rest in His goodness and His plan. Receiving His love is allowing me (like Mary Oliver says) to love what is mortal...to hold it against my bones...and to let it go when the time comes. This year has been a time of letting go of a lot of things...things and people I was meant to love fiercely but never meant to grasp so tightly...never meant to carry...never meant to try and save. Letting go is sad...at first...but then there is freedom. Last night signified the end of a journey I've been on over the past year...but in many ways I realize that this is only the beginning. In a way, it feels like life is really about to start. My hands are open.

***

"And now, with God's help, I shall become myself."  --Soren Kierkegaard

strength, redefined.

I was talking with a friend/mentor of mine about strength last week. She is a very intelligent, perceptive, and wise woman, and she was discussing the relationship between strength and rest...more specifically, that strength comes from rest. Like this:

REST ------>>> STRENGTH

There are all of these examples in scripture of this connection between strength and rest, like the way that Jesus went away to rest and seek solitude before he had to be strong before the multitudes. Anyhow, we talked about how much our culture twists this relationship between strength and rest. Our culture tells us that if we need rest, then we are weak. It tells us that activity, accomplishment, busyness, perfectionism, and stoicism equals and breeds strength. But really, all of this stuff depletes us. It makes us frazzled, fragmented, and exhausted.

I was thinking a lot about this today because of something that happened last night. I've mentioned before that I've been involved with a ministry called Celebrate Recovery over the past year. Last fall I started an intensive study that guided me and a group of other ladies through the twelve steps of recovery. It's been a season of breaking down the blinders of denial, doing an inventory of my relationship with God, with myself, and with others, and of learning how to surrender my life to God and to really, really trust Him. Anyhow, last night was our night to celebrate the progress we have made and to give Him praise for the victories we have experienced. We all sat around a big table and ate together and shared our stories.

I wrote over three-pages, single spaced, to share with our group, and about half-way into the first paragraph, I started to cry. I am a crier, a big crier, and once I start, it's hard for me to stop. I thought I was doomed when the tears started coming so early into my story. I'll never get through this, I thought.

But I did...eventually. I had to stop to blow my nose a few times and I felt horribly self-consious. I was a blubbering, shaking mess by the end, but I got every word out. I gave it all that I had; I held nothing back. I hoped that my words might touch the other women in my group and give praise to Jesus, the ultimate Author of it all. It was a powerful night and I felt pretty proud of how much our group has grown and learned over the past year.

This morning, however, something very typical happened. I woke up feeling horrible. The feeling is familiar...a tinge of nausea combined with a lurking sense of shame. I felt embarrassed and stupid about how emotional I had gotten. I wondered, why can't I be one of those women who can speak the words without my voice quivering, without tears blurring my vision, and without my hands shaking as I clench the words on the page? Why must I be so...so...emotional? (I'm slowly and stubbornly learning to accept that maybe God just made me this way and I need to stop comparing myself to people who can speak in public without losing total composure.)

Anyhow, I say all of this because I think I'm realizing that maybe my embarrassment over my vulnerable, emotional display last night is that our culture tells us that this type of behavior is weak. In the same way it tells us that rest is weak, it also tells us that tearful displays of emotion are weak. It tells us to stay locked up inside, to not show our hearts, to protect ourselves, and to keep it all together.

Over the years, I've learned that sharing our stories with one another takes courage. It takes courage to be vulnerable. It takes courage to struggle. It takes courage to fight against resistance, and it takes courage to open yourself up to change, to share your brokenness and neediness.

So, all of this is to say that our culture has got it all backwards. These hard, stoic images that we somehow get in our heads of what it means to be strong are false illusions. Practicing rest gives us strength. This is where we can refuel and listen to God and to ourselves. And then, from that rest, we can go out and struggle hard and boldly share our broken lives with one another--we can share our stories--we can share all that we've heard in our moments of rest.

Throughout my MFA program, this question is commonly asked:

What makes a piece of writing good?

The answer is usually unanimous:

A good piece of writing evokes an emotional response from the reader/hearer.

So, I guess I needed to write this for myself, to remind myself of what strength is, where it comes from, and that it usually doesn't show up in the way I think it should. Perhaps my level of emotion last night doesn't mean that I'm a weak, histrionic basket-case. Perhaps it means that God is writing a pretty incredible story for me as I yield my life to Him...and He is teaching me to share it...tears, quivers, shakes, and all.

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