Popcorn

I know it's been over a month since my last post.  No, I haven't been in a coma, traveling a third-world country, or giving up the internet for Lent.  My heart and my mind have been full of thoughts and emotions, but nothing NEW lately.  That's just where we're at these days - kind of stuck in place, waiting and wishing.  Nothing new to report.

But then we made popcorn last night, and it finally got my mind rolling once again. I fully admit that I might be off my rocker.  I've been a little sick and woozy with allergies.  So bear with me as I attempt to make a correlation between air-pop and adoption. 

No matter how you pop - microwave, air-popper, stovetop, or other - the stages are basically the same.  You start with your kernels, barely a handful.  It's a painfully long wait for those little golden wonders to heat up, mouth watering in anticipation of the buttery goodness.  Then you hear it, that first delicious POP! Seconds pass that feel like days as you wait for another, then another.  In our air-popper, a few unpopped stowaways try to make their way into the bowl before their time. Suddenly POP POP POP POP POP POP POP - you've waited so long, and now you get to enjoy watching the white wave of popcorn roll up from the bottom of the well and erupt into your bowl.  (If you remembered to put out a bowl. I've forgotten a few times. It's frantic.) The wave of wonderful just keeps coming; you wonder how you will ever eat it all... The "pops" begin to lighten, fewer and further between.  The tidal wave lessens to a gentle roll, then to nothing.  Just a few stragglers dancing around in the popper, no intention whatsoever of turning into REAL popcorn.  Unplug.  Butter and salt.  Enjoy.  Nomnomnomnomnom.

So as I was waiting for the fun to begin, the popper "whirring away" and the kernels beginning to dance, my mind wandered to a train of thought from earlier in the evening.  I had gone to the gym after work, come home, let out the dogs, fed them, heated up some leftovers for supper, and rinsed out my lunch dishes in the sink.  The house was eerily silent with Tim gone at a meeting.  When my food was hot, I set up a TV tray in the living room, plunked down, and picked something from from the DVR list to watch while eating.  I felt like a teenager, and mom and dad were still at work.  Come home from school, clean out the lunchbox, do your chores, heat up a snack, and watch some TV.  Really, how much has my life changed since I was 14? Yes, I have a wonderful husband, and a job instead of a Trapper Keeper, but I still really only need to look out for myself.  Am I ever going to start feeling like a grown-up? When this baby comes, and my entire life begins to revolve around him or her, THEN will I feel like a grown-up?

Is there really a magic moment when people suddenly feel they're "grown up?" Maybe my problem is that I think of my parents as "grown-ups," but I don't think of them as "old."  So my perception of "grown-up" and "old age" is constantly shifting to accommodate where they are in life.  Even as adult responsibilities pile up year after year, even as we prepare a nursery and our hearts for parenting, I feel like "being a grown-up" is so far off in the future.

I wonder at what point my mom ever felt like a grown-up? I imagine I'll be getting a phone call or facebook message soon, and she'll let me know.  By the way, Mom, did you notice that I said I DON'T think of you as "old?"

It's hard to say at what point we pour the "kernels of adulthood" into our air poppers.  High school graduation, maybe? The seeds for success have been measured out, we have the tools we need, but no one would argue that we're "done" or remotely close to being "grown-ups" yet.  But that's probably the point that our popper gets plugged in, and society expects that we begin moving toward adulthood.

Of course, it takes a while before anything "pops." Lots of mistakes, goofing around, changing our plans.  Just the slightest little "ping ping ping" as we dance around the popper, resisting responsibility, refusing to pop.  Or trying SO HARD to "pop" and grow up... but we're just not hot enough yet.

That first REAL pop is a shock to the system.  The realities of life come leaping out, like a smack in the face, a shock to the system.  That first piece of actual popcorn is all alone.  No life experience to draw from, no clue how to deal with it.  It's tough.  But it's time to start learning.  Sadly, some people get dealt that first pop REALLY early in life, long before society deems them "ready" to grow up. 

Slowly, the rest of the kernels begin to follow suit.  POP.  You may have had a 4.0 in high school, but you are going to have to work for it HARD in college.  POP.  Meet your future husband.  POP. New friends from new backgrounds and experiences who start to shift your world view.  That and Profe's Spanish classes.  POP. Turn 21.  POP POP POP. Death.  Dear family friends.  People my age lose parents.  People my age even die themselves.  Aren't we too young for this?

Each "pop" seasons" us, hardens us, brings us a little closer to feeling like a grown-up.  Especially the "pops" after college: a real job, a marriage, a lease.  Buying a car, tackling debt, moving, moving, moving again.  One by one, "mom and dad's" bills become your own: cell phone, car payment, insurance, groceries... the list goes on and on.  The popcorn keeps flying out of the popper and into the bowl.  I look at my popcorn bowl of life and realize I've had so many "pops," there's more popcorn in my bowl now than left in the popper.  I'm over halfway there.  Am I a grown-up yet? Then why don't I feel like one?

Is the baby finally going to do me in? I'm sure the loss of sleep and personal space and alone time make me feel PHYSICALLY like I'm a hundred years old... but even then, will I feel like a grown-up? Or will I still feel like a kid... dumbfounded that I have a kid of my own? What will it take? A mortgage? Heartbreak? Tragedy? My own kids turning 18 and pouring their own kernels into their poppers, getting married, having kids?

I am blessed to still have all four of my grandparents alive and well.  This may be another reason I have trouble feeling like a grown-up... very few grown-ups that I know have a full set of healthy grandparents.  They're all spunky, energetic, self-sufficient, amazing.  Just in the past year or so have I noticed my mom's dad starting to have some issues, slowing down, giving us a little scare or two.  Pop pop.  Then they started to come closer together: illness, broken bones, minor surgeries.  POP POP POP.  All of the sudden this last week, he's all I can think about; he had MAJOR surgery last Friday, faces extensive rehab and care in the coming months, and has another separate scary diagnosis we haven't had time to learn anything about yet. POPOPOPOPOPOPOPOP! Once it starts, when does it stop? I'm scared - we all are.  We haven't had to do this yet.  I wonder if, after this last week of watching her dad suffer and her mom sick with worry, my mom feels like a grown-up at last.

I guess there's no magic answer, is there? Just like with popcorn.  You can think it's finally done popping, unplug it, and couple more come flying out after the fact.  We're never through growing up, whether we feel we are or not.  There's always more to learn, more to teach, more to live.  We're not done popping until God says we are.

The beginning of our adoption journey took a while to pop.  First of all, it took us a looooong time to get to the right place and space to make that big decision.  Once we had everything in order and decided upon infant adoption, we filled out our "Preliminary Application" online.  This was a HUGE moment.  It meant the official start of the process for us.  The first fee we would pay.  We each cracked open a celebration beer, of course, and sat down at the computer for a long night of online questions.

Names, address, dates of birth, places of birth.  Date and place married.  Current employers. Religion.  Height and weight. Do you have any physical or mental health conditions? Do you take any prescriptions and what is their purpose? Do you have any children? Which adoption program(s) are you interested in?

That's it.  It took us about five minutes and that included proofing it.  Talk about anticlimactic.  Talk about a TINY pop! And it took Six. Long. Weeks for that little pop to get processed and approved.  Seriously?!?

The bigger pops would follow quickly.  Paper after paper to be filled out, numbers to crunch, deadlines to meet, books to read, references to submit, money to raise, profile materials to prepare - it got crazy for a couple months! I'm excited to share more about that part.  POP POP POP POP POP! That was summer/fall 2011 for us.  It just kept popping! I didn't think my bowl was big enough.

Right now things are very quiet.  Too quiet... I'm going crazy.  I have been for several months.  It's hard to believe ANYTHING will ever happen.  Sometimes I look at my bowl of "adoption popcorn" that we made last summer and think, "This is it.  Time to eat.  All we get is a pretty nursery and a wonderful experience of self-reflection." It's hard to remember we're not done popping yet.  God is still holding our Little Kernel in His hands.  All is quiet, and then POP!

Raise Your Hands

I swiped a piece of choir music from my folder a couple weeks ago.  I slid it into my purse after we finished practicing it, and of course I forgot about it for a couple days.  Thankfully, I didn’t spill coffee inside my purse before finding it; I’ve done that before.  The worst that happened is it got a little wrinkly, so it’s going to get “pressed” tonight between a couple volumes of Luther’s Works.

So why have I begun a life of thievery, looting my choir folder on Wednesday nights? There’s this one song we’re working on and I just LOVE the words and really want to share them with a friend.  I tried to find the lyrics online so I could just send her that, but no luck.  Hence, one dark, cold February night, racked with guilt, I snuck out of practice with the goods in my purse.

(Melissa and Sandy… I have every intention of returning the music tomorrow :)

The words spoke to me from the very first time we sang them.  They’re about thanking and praising God wherever you are in life, whatever you’re experiencing, the highest of highs or the lowest of lows. Some days I’m on a major high when we sing it, so excited about the future, and I just belt it out.  Some days I’m in a major slump, feeling defeated and alone, and my voice cracks and my eyes well up and there’s not a whole lot of volume coming from the alto section.  Some days I’m all over the place, and I’ll be crying the first time we sing it and smiling so hard it hurts the fourth time we sing it.

It makes me think about Job, the guy who REALLY experienced the highest of highs (or so he thought), and then the lowest of lows, and then all he had lost was graciously restored by God and he was blessed even more greatly than he could ever have imagined before.

It makes me think about my amazing husband and the huge blessing he has been in my life.  The “lows” as I searched for him and made some mistakes and acted all high-school-girl-crazy.  It makes me think about my dear friends who are still searching and waiting.  How sometimes during that search you feel on top of the world, independent, invincible, and how sometimes you just feel unbelievably rotten.

It makes me think about the blessing of my parents and brothers and in-laws and my beautiful nephew and all my wonderful extended family and those special friends who understand me SO well, I am baffled that we’re not somehow related.  Sometimes we laugh so hard we cry and our abs hurt the next day.  We say crazy things and share inside jokes and talk in silly voices that only family can understand.  But sometimes we make each other cry and worry and scream.  The more you love, the more you can hurt.  And when one of us is taken away from this earth, it is absolutely the lowest, most awful feeling.

It makes me think about our adoption journey, all the excitement and anticipation and giddiness.  All the impatience and sadness and fear.  Definitely some major highs and lows.  It makes me think about people I know who have had adoptions fall through.  People I know who have experienced the devastating low of miscarriage.  People I know who have ugly, aching, unanswered questions about why NOW is not God’s time for their family to start.

And boy, oh, boy does it make me think about the highs and lows to come as a parent, and countless friends experiencing those now.  From what I understand, and it better be true because quite a few of my hopes and dreams depend upon it, becoming, and BEING a parent is one of the single greatest highs this world has to offer.  And from what I've read in frustrated Facebook posts... what I've seen in temper tantrums at Wal-Mart and in church and at bedtime... what I absolutely know is coming because a) we all have a sinful nature, and b) children are irrational... parenting also offers some exhausted, desperate, puked-upon lows.

It makes me think about SO many things that I am going through, that I have gone through, and that the people I love have experienced.  Life truly is a rollercoaster.  I’m pretty good about praying during the highs and the lows.  My prayer life needs a lot of work when I’m “coasting.” And this song reminds me of that… praise God ALL THE TIME!

And this song REALLY makes me think about my friend, Rachel, who really needs it this week.  She and her husband are prospective adoptive parents, but they’re going about it a little differently than Tim and I are.  They’re providing interim foster care for babies.  Many of the babies will not be up for adoption; they just need a loving, caring home while mom and dad get it together, or as “together” as they need to for the state to allow the baby to come home.  One day, amazingly, God will place a baby in their home that WILL be theirs to keep.  But, like us, they struggle with anxious questions about when that day will come.  And while they wait, they give all of their love and then some to these babies who can only be in their arms a short while, but will be in their hearts forever.  This week, their first baby goes “home.” I struggle to call it “home” because Rach and Ryan have had the baby since he was 2 days old, and before that I’m assuming he was in the hospital.  Theirs is the only "home" he’s known. 

So, Rach, these words are for you especially.  Praise God at your highest… praise Him at your lowest… and know that He will fill your heart and your hands once again.

Raise Your Hands

Words and Music by Heather Sorenson

2011 Hal Leonard Corporation

(I have absolutely no idea what other information about the song I have to include in order to not get in trouble, so I’m going to just roll the dice and go with that)

Raise your hands

                when you’re high upon the mountain,

                and you know that you’ve been blessed.

Raise your hands

                when you start your day with nothing,

                and you end with even less.

Raise your hands

                to the One who gives us everything,

                yet He shines in emptiness.

Raise your hands

                when you’re offering up the sacrifice

                that you want to claim as yours.

Raise your hands,

                reaching up to heaven,

                when your heart’s bowed to the floor.

Raise your hands,

                trusting in the grace of God

                that has carried you before.

I will lift my hands to You, and bless Your name forever.

I will lift my hands to You, and bless Your holy name.

Raise your hands

                when your heart is full of worship,

                and your songs are filled with praise.

Raise your hands

                when the battle ends in victory

                and God’s glory is ablaze.

Raise your hands.

                Let the earth shout, “Hallelujah!”

                and the people shout, “Amen!”

Raise your hands,

                and the hands that have been emptied,

                God will fill them once again.

Raise your hands.

Gaining Perspective

At the beginning of January, we had just gotten home from a whirlwind road trip to several spots in Wisconsin, visiting both of our families for a short time.  The trip was a blast, but too short and jam-packed to be called refreshing or a “vacation.”  Things didn’t slow down the weekend after we returned, either, and suddenly the holidays were over and it was time to get back to work.  I was SO caught off guard by the 10-day blur of worship services, driving 900 miles, and holiday parties.  The house was a total disaster, and the fridge was bare.  So I went out for lunch TWICE (gasp!) that week.  Being the first week of January, I was all set to get back on track with nutrition and exercise.  Also, I had a million errands to run on my lunch breaks, so I needed something fast.  Naturally, Subway was my choice both days I went out.  My first day, after successfully navigating the meat, cheese, and toasting portions of my Subway experience, I was dismayed to find out that cucumbers had been cut from the veggie lineup.  Apparently they were not the most popular choice, and Subway had been throwing out more of them than it was worth.  In my head I pouted a little; I DO love cucumbers, especially on the Buffalo Chicken.  But I refrained from having a major meltdown. 

Two days later I hit the same Subway, mentally prepared this time for a cucumber-free lunch.  The lady in front of me, however, was NOT prepared.  When she asked for cucumbers and was shot down, I thought the world was going to end.  “WHAT?!? How can you not have cucumbers? That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard in my life!” Her exact words, SCREAMED, and I’m not exaggerating.  I wanted to remember the experience clearly, because I immediately thought, “This is SO going in my blog.” Was it really the dumbest thing she’d ever heard in her life? Probably not.  But based on what she said, I have to take her at her word :)  And based on the way she was carrying on (“Seriously, this is a Wal-Mart Subway, why don’t you just go out to the produce department and buy a cucumber? No, I suppose you’re going to make me buy my OWN cucumber!”), I quickly judged that she was in serious need of some life experience and perspective.  She had clearly never watched the evening news ONCE, because then it would no longer be accurate to say that Subway discontinuing cucumbers was the dumbest thing she had ever heard in her life.

Last Sunday night, I was about ready to forget about blogging the cucumber story.  Who am I to judge her reaction to her favorite vegetable being unavailable, given the way I reacted to the Packers’ loss? Let me clue you in: first quarter – yelling loudly, frustrated, still hopeful.  Second quarter – still yelling, a little panicked, beginning to throw things.  Second half – dead quiet, scowling, moved to the floor instead of the couch so I could bury my head and cry.  Two-minute warning and 45 minutes thereafter – in my bed, covers over my head, not wanting to talk even to Tim.  The rest of the week, gradually lessening but still true today – angry, on the verge of tears, and muting the TV every time a Super Bowl commercial comes on.

I gave the word “perspective” some serious thought this week.  It’s just a game, right? That was a pretty violent, passionate response to a lost football game.  Some might view it as crazy, shake their heads at me, and think to themselves that I really need some life experience and perspective.  But the more I thought about my definition of perspective, the more I realized it’s okay for me to be a complete nut job about the Packers.

To define “perspective,” I’d like to throw out the old expression “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I’ve never been a big fan of it, because I think it’s too much of an over-generalization.  Yes, true, sometimes a difficult experience does make us stronger.  But sometimes it just makes you sad, guarded, and calloused.  “Perspective” is your own unique mindset, constantly shifting for better OR for worse, based on what life has handed you.  And perspective doesn’t mean you can’t be passionate about the little things in life; it just means having the wisdom to acknowledge your CRAZINESS and the ability to funnel that same passion into other, more worthwhile pursuits.

That’s why it’s so unfair to judge how other people react to life based upon how you think YOU would react.  I have no idea what that cucumber lady has been through in life.  Maybe she owns a cucumber farm and is upset about the economic impact this will have on the cucumber industry.  Maybe she grew up in a home where cucumbers were a luxury, and she feels special every time she gets to order them at Subway.  Or MAYBE, she’s a normal person who’s been through a lot in life, and cucumbers are just one of those little things that she’s passionate about.

Part of my intent in starting this blog was to educate our family and friends about the adoption process (or, in the spirit of “perspective”, about OUR adoption process, since no two journeys are the same).  A couple posts back, I wrote about the incredibly tough choice between international, domestic, or waiting child adoption.  After choosing the domestic infant program, our next step was to choose an agency.  This step, and the months of paperwork that followed, began teaching us a LOT about perspective.

We found ourselves thinking seriously about three options.  The only thing they all had in common was a pile of paperwork and an intrusive home study process.  Like it or not, we were going to have to “prove” ourselves as prospective parents, and our commitment to children and to one another would be intensely scrutinized.  One of our options was SUPER- expensive, we called it the “Lexus Agency,” but they could just about guarantee us an infant before the end of 2011.  The other two options were more affordable, but would result in a much longer, more indefinite waiting period.  So we would have to make an ugly financial decision.  We would also have to choose how much openness we would be willing to share with the birth parent(s) and their families.  Each agency offered varying degrees of openness and ongoing communication.  So without knowing the family, without knowing how we will feel once we meet that child and bring them into our home, we would have to make a decision about how often e-mails and photo exchange and phone calls and face-to-face meetings will take place. 

We would have to think long and hard about all of these things before choosing an agency, because each program was so different.   Most of it was pretty hard to swallow at first, and made us very uncomfortable.  A dear friend of mine going through the adoption process right now recently compared all these choices we have to make and hoops we have to jump through to “eating our vegetables” before getting dessert.  It really stinks having to check, check, check each yucky step off the list WITHOUT the tangible comfort of that child you have SO longed for and prayed for, there in your arms to cuddle and love.  It’s so hard to keep focused on what WILL be, and not get weighed down by the process of getting there.  And that’s not unique to adoption, I’m sure lots of you can relate on so many levels in your own unique life experiences.

At first we viewed it all as a means to an end.  As much as I hated it, I knew it was just part of the game.  But slowly, by God’s grace, our perspective began to shift.  The shift began when we were forced to accept the realities of adoption.  But the shift CONTINUED with time, education, and prayer.  We began to see the good that could come from our situation, and the unique opportunities we would be given, rather than viewing our essay questions and home inspections and monstrous payments as punishments, or something we just have to grin and bear.  In the end, we signed with Bethany Christian Services, a nationwide agency headquartered in Michigan, with a relatively small presence in Minnesota.  It was not the “Lexus Agency.”  Although we would have to suffer through six months of paperwork, and an indefinite wait thereafter to be chosen, we will ultimately be able to afford diapers and food and electricity once the long-awaited child becomes ours.

It’s crazy to me how, in less than a year, our perspective has shifted so much.  All of the “uglies” about adoption are just an accepted part of our life now, our new reality.  And many of them have turned into blessings.  And I am more intense of a Cheesehead than ever, because it’s such a wonderful escape from all the struggles and seriousness of this journey.  But as I pointed out earlier - I KNOW that I’m crazy - so it’s okay…

I encourage you today to take a little time to think about how God has used the trials and triumphs in your life to shift your perspective.  Think about goals you have, ways that you think, and how they are different from five years ago, or before a major event took place in your life.  In some ways, you might feel stronger.  In other ways weaker… maybe still healing.  But there’s no denying that life has shaped you, made you unique, and given you a perspective that no one else has.  And it might be just what someone else needs to hear.  Your special perspective that you live out every day and don't even remember is special, could be SO refreshing to another person.  So share it, if you’re willing, and try not to judge others based on your own perspective.  Like me and the cucumber lady.  Maybe she just REALLY loves cucumbers.

For the rest of you that also REALLY love cucumbers, do not fear! I heard today that Subway is bringing them back (maybe they already have) based on customer feedback.  Maybe my Cucumber Friend started a petition, I don’t know.  Maybe I’ll start a petition to banish Eli Manning to the Canadian Football League.  Ugh.

No More Resolutions

The word “timeline” has been bouncing around inside my head for the past couple days.  It’s probably got more than a little to do with the fact that everybody and their brother has switched to, is contemplating, or is avoiding the new Facebook timeline format.  And then there’s the whole New Year thing, when everybody, whether or not they admit it, thinks about the past, present, and future, and how they would like to change in the coming year.  And then I had a birthday last week! The last birthday of my twenties, 365 more days to accomplish a whoooooole lot of stuff I promised myself I would do before I was 30.  Actually, 366 days.  Thank God for the Leap Year.

Good thing I don’t really do the resolution thing anymore, or this coming year might have gotten very stressful.  I spent a lot of my life making resolutions, and I honestly can’t remember a single one I’ve ever kept perfectly.  Most of them get off the ground at least, but completely fulfilled within the timeline I set up? Never.  And then, rather than celebrating all the good that came from my hard work, I just focus on the failed resolution and get bummed out and lose motivation and just want to sleep and eat chocolate.  Bad, bad, bad!

Goals are wonderful and noble things.  They push us to be better stronger, happier people.  But they can be deeply discouraging when they are not met on OUR timeline.  Sometimes we fail due to our own laziness, lack of willpower, or other fault.  And other times, we fail for reasons we just can’t control.  It’s all about remembering WHO is in control… and it’s not me.  I can make myself promises about what I’ll accomplish in the next 366 days until I’m blue in the face.  I can make changes, work hard, push beyond what I thought were my limits… but ultimately, I’m not in charge.  There is just no way that we can understand God’s timeline, God’s plan, God’s will for our lives, because our puny human brains would just explode.  God’s timeline has so many more dimensions than our timelines do.  God has ONE eternal timeline, and all people who have ever walked on this earth have their place on it.  The events and the deadlines on His timeline don’t just take into consideration what Megan Redfield needs – He perfectly fulfills the needs of every single other person affected by each event in my life and in each of your lives.  His reasoning is so far beyond our comprehension, that for us to try to superimpose our silly, one-dimensional timeline over His is simply ridiculous.

So here it is, the dumbest thing I ever put on a “timeline.”  It wasn’t ever actually a New Year’s Resolution, more a wish that grew stronger and more desperate every year… I just HAD to have kids before 30.  Every month that ticked away, I got a little more sad and scared, and I dreaded 29.  Because if I wasn’t pregnant by 29, and things were starting to look that way, then…

Then what? What horrible, awful thing will happen if I’m not a mom by 30? Tonight I’m having a really hard time finishing that sentence, remembering what was so terrifying, because at some point in the last few months I was FINALLY able to drop the “baby deadline” from my own timeline, and place it on God’s.

The process of dumping your own timeline and boarding God’s is one of major trust.  First, you have to acknowledge that you just don’t have a clue, and hand over the driver’s seat of control to someone else.  And you don’t even get to ride shotgun, lest you think you’re the navigator.  You’re in the backseat. Then, you have to stop questioning, doubting, asking Him if He needs to see the map or pull over for directions.  No backseat drivers allowed! Finally, you have to be so, so very patient.  You’re allowed to ask “are we there yet?” but He’s not obligated to answer.  He alone knows how many stops are necessary, what kind of repairs you will need along the way, and when the absolute perfect time to arrive will be.

Now, it’s not like I just woke up one morning and hopped off my timeline and willingly landed on God’s and have never looked back.  Not even close.  I still find myself tiptoeing back, sometimes even spending a day or two visiting it, curled up in a moody, self-centered, unmotivated ball on the couch.  Like when we finished our final paperwork and our profile book in October and turned in our payment and SUDDENLY we were on the “waiting list.” The list of couples who can be chosen at any moment.  Two days, two months, two years (I pray not!!!)… ANY moment.  I freaked out! I’d been in this weird time-warp of paperwork for six months.  I filled out paper after paper about why I want a child, what makes me fit to get a child, how I will discipline a child, how my own childhood experiences will shape my parenting, and a million other questions about my future as a parent, but until that day that we got on the “list,” it didn’t really hit me what we had been working towards… a baby! In this house! I have a million things to buy, read, clean, register for… yikes! And it could be tomorrow, I better HURRY! So my freak-out lasted about two weeks and I got a lot of work done and plans made, and a beautiful nursery nearly completed, but at the end of it I found myself burnt out, bummed out, and no closer to the answer to my question, “are we there yet?”  After that, just in time for Christmas, I got cranky for a couple weeks (hence, no blogging) and focused on the other end of the spectrum.  This could take years, people, YEARS.  Who cares about daycare? A pediatrician? Who cares about registering for gifts? Screw it.  I don’t want to think about this now, it’s just depressing.

It took about a month of stupid, silly mood swings to realize I was dwelling on my own timeline once again.  I’m not in control! I don’t have the answers! NO, I don’t know when.  It could be sooner, it could be later.  But God, in His wisdom and love, has promised to never, ever give me more than I can handle.  So I don’t have to freak out, because although it might be soon, it won’t be sooner than I can handle.  And I don’t have curl up in a mopey ball and avoid the coming reality, because although it might take long, it won’t take longer than I can handle.  So it’s time to quit pouting and just keep treading along, working faithfully, TRUSTING, and praying.

The adoption process has been such a blessing for me, and one of the ways is that it has helped me to explore the beauty of living on God’s timeline.  At first it was just the baby thing, naturally, because the adoption process simply doesn’t fit on a human timeline.  There are too many pieces, too many people involved, too many dimensions.  But once I let that go, it felt so good that I let a couple other things go to God’s timeline, too.  I still work hard toward those things that I once would have called resolutions, but just don’t set deadlines.  God does that part.  And that frees me up a whole lot more to enjoy the ride.  You know, the old destination vs. journey debate.  So, dear friends, if you’re on a timeline… if you’re pressuring yourself to finish something up this year or before a certain birthday - meet that perfect person, finally land the job you deserve, meet a fitness goal, start a family, whatever it is - I challenge you to do ALL you can, push yourself, work hard… but don’t beat yourself up, or get frantic or mopey like me, about things that are beyond your control.  Turning your deadlines over to God is wonderfully freeing and can only serve to bring you closer to Him, the one who cares for you, provides for your every need, and has a plan for you.

Sharing Time

This is it.  This is the one I've been dreading writing.  This is the one where I have to dig into what those years of "trying" and failing really felt like... and they felt like crap.  But we've come to the point in the story when, last March, we began to share our adoption news. That was such a wonderful, joyful, emotional time.  And to even begin to understand what a happy experience that was for us, you have to start a few years earlier...

I've always been a person who cares waaaay too much what other people think of me.  I know, I know, "be true to yourself and your Savior, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks." But it's just a weakness I've always struggled with.  So I can't say that there was ever a point that the "comments" didn't bother me.

"That baby looks awfully good on you, when are you having one of your own?"  "Any news yet?" "Are you two ever gonna get cracking, or do you just want to raise dogs for the rest of your lives?"

The reminder of what was "missing" in my life stung a little.  There were times when I could expect an interrogation, like a family reunion, baby shower, or meeting our new church families for the first time.  I could prepare myself, guard myself a little bit against the feelings of loss.  But what always stung the most, and what I could never prepare enough for, were the "knowing" looks in people's eyes, the implications and assumptions that accompanied the words.  The reality of infertility, I could deal with.  But "what people thought" of me... that was a whole other story.  People had no idea how desperately I "wanted" to be a mother.  People assumed that waiting was a "choice."  People wondered when I would feel settled enough, secure enough, ready enough, and I was already all of those things! It just wasn't happening!

This is tough to write, because inevitably someone is going to "feel bad." A dear friend or family member is going to read this and suddenly recall a conversation they had with me years ago, and bang their head against a wall because now they realize the impact those words really had.

Please, please, PLEASE do not bang your head against a wall.  I love you! And I KNOW you had no idea what we were going through, no idea how those words made us feel, and no intention of hurting us.  So back away from the wall! It's not like I wore a sandwich board every day that said "I want a baby and it's just not happening so please don't bring it up." Very few people knew what we were going through, because it's just not something that people talk about.  It's uncomfortable, and it makes people sad.  And although it touches a lot of lives, infertility is not something you ever really think about until you, or someone close to you has gone through it.  Even if you ARE aware of it, it's still really hard to know the right thing to say, or what NOT to say.

So I have two pieces of advice, if you want them.  The first is to be aware.  Refrain from making assumptions.  And I'm not just talking about my situation, and the comments I endured.  ANY situation where it appears that someone is making a "choice" that you don't understand.  I observe apparent "choices" every day that I don't understand, and my sinful nature continues to make snap judgments about the people making those choices.  But my awareness has definitely increased through all of this, and I feel I've been given more compassion and understanding than I used to have.  The ability to re-think my snap judgments, consider what others might be going through, and even remember to pray for those people.  And now, after reading this, please don't think that each and every childless couple married for a certain number of years must be dealing with infertility and on the verge of an adoption plan.  That, too, would be an assumption.  They MIGHT be making a choice to wait, and it might be for perfectly appropriate, God-pleasing reasons.  The point is to try harder to, maybe even pray for the strength to, withhold judgment.

The second piece of advice I have is to not worry about hurting feelings.  It sounds conflicting, I know.  But it makes sense.  As I began to let a person or two know what we were experiencing, I noticed a lot of "tiptoeing." Once aware, people were extra-cautious not to hurt my feelings or upset me.  Which I deeply, deeply appreciated... but that almost made it worse.  Because now my personal struggle was affecting the degree to which my friends felt comfortable sharing their hilarious stories about their children's antics, or sharing joyful pregnancy news.  Not only was my struggle making ME sad, and making other people sad FOR me, but I could not handle that it was causing my loving, well-intentioned friends to feel any degree of guilt over the beautiful blessings they had been given.  Do not ever, ever, ever feel guilty that God has blessed you so richly.  To do so would be to question His plan.  We ALL have struggles... infertility is one of mine, and I'm sure you have plenty of your own.  I promise I will pray for you, and I ask you to pray for me, but let's promise never to feel guilty for our blessings! Let's not worry so much about the "right thing" to say.  Let's just be honest and real, let one another know how much we care, be clear about how much support we want or don't want, and pray, pray, pray for one another!


So, CLEARLY, having this miserable secret took its toll on me.  You can see I had way too much time alone with my thoughts, way too many opportunities to over-analyze well-intentioned questions.  One of the ways I sought to cope with my feelings of inadequacy and loneliness was to start a journal of letters to my future babies.  At the risk of looking very silly, and having this post go from "way long" to "uber-long," I'd like to share a few of the earliest entries:


August 9, 2009: 
I can't wait to meet you.  I can't wait to know you.  And I want to find some way for you to know me, too.  The real me.  Not your mom who yells and gets frustrated and makes you clean up your stuff all the time.  The REAL me.
I don't want to wait any longer.  Why wait until you are real? I decided that if I start writing you now, then you will know just HOW MUCH your daddy and I already love you and want you in our lives.
We have been trying to start our family for almost a year... Someday God will bless us with you.  We will laugh and cry and be SO happy.  Maybe that is why it is taking so long now - so we can remember in 18 years when you're sneaking out and breaking curfew just how much we love you... have always loved you... even before you came to be.  Love, Mom

August 26, 2009:
...We live in such a beautiful home right now (Darwin, MN).  Whenever people come over and look at all the room we have, they tell us the house is just meant to be FILLED with kids.  Fine by me!
I really hope you can join us soon in this home.  It is just SO country.  Big wide-open farm fields surround the house on all sides (except for the cemetery across the road).  HUGE kitchen for little helpers to work with Mom.  Large bedrooms upstairs for you to play and dream.  So much room to run around outside.  So many people, in both churches, ready and waiting to love you.  And Charlie [our chocolate lab], he gets WAY too much naptime.  He needs some little people to chase him around and pull on his tail and ride on his back and just really terrorize him...

September 9, 2009:
It's a funny day today: 9-9-09... and I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you.  We're ALWAYS thinking of you.
So many friends have cute pictures of their kids up on Facebook, or tell adorable stories about what they did.  Truly, it doesn't annoy me... I feel like it should, but really it just makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, like it's a little preview of what I have coming.
God has a plan for our family.  I believe that.  It sure as heck isn't MY plan, because you'd be here by now.  But Dad and I have been praying a lot - for patience, trust, understanding...
Someday soon you will be here.  I'm hoping by 10-10-10! But if not even by then, know that every extra day we have to wait is a day we come to love you MORE, before you even get here.  Love, Mom

What a joy, my friends, what an ABSOLUTE JOY to share these letters with you.  Because now you know just how long, just how deeply I have longed for a child.  And because I'm weak and silly and I care way too much about what you think, that is really, REALLY important to me.  I love reading these first letters, because they were so full of joy and optimism.  Later on, there were some REALLY long gaps between letters because I didn't want to share with my future children just how bitter, just how hopeless I was feeling.  Then, starting in March of 2011, the entries were suddenly full of hope and excitement again.  

There were a lot of reasons that was such a happy month for us: starting an adoption plan meant my miserable medical journey could come to an end.  We were DOING SOMETHING about our problem, taking charge.  We were praying constantly.  Our families were overjoyed. 

But one of the happiest parts was SHARING.  Those of you who have been blessed with getting pregnant, getting engaged, or getting a fabulous job promotion: remember the waves of joy you experienced... first finding out the news for yourself... then letting your mind run wild as you dream about the future... and then joy after joy as you got to SHARE your news.  Telling our adoption news was such a huge, happy relief.  Not only did I have amazing news to share, but at the same time  I got to answer all the questions, STOP all the assumptions dead in their tracks.

Step 1: call our closest family and friends.  Step 2: a private facebook message to about 20 friends/family who knew of our struggles and had been wonderfully supportive over the years.  Step 3: e-mail extended family.  Step 4: publicly announce our joy on facebook.  Step 5: as we continued facebooking our progress, more and more people found out who hadn't seen our first announcement.  Step 6: tell our church families.  Step 7: tell random strangers that we're adopting, like the Craiglist lady I bought my crib from who was eyeing my tummy and clearly wondering if I was really pregnant (which I took as a huge compliment).

Step by step, we got to spread smiles and hugs and joy.  Step by step, the awkward questions and comments came to a stop.  Step by step, we received an overwhelming response of support.  People thank me for using this blog to share intimate details of our journey, for being "so open and honest" about what we have experienced.  Truly, I have to thank all of you for ALLOWING me to be so open and honest.  It is such a wonderful release.  It is such an honor to drone on endlessly about myself and hear that people CARE! It is such a privilege to share my experiences and know that they comfort and reassure someone else.  It is such an encouragement to read your comments and messages.  It is such a faith-builder to hear that so many are praying for us, and it helps me to remember to say MY prayers for all of you! And it is SUCH a joy to continue sharing new aspects of our happy news.  It keeps me positive, strong, close to my Lord, and ever-so-excited for all that life has in store.  THANK YOU!!!

 (And thank you, Angela Hager, for the tip on this wall quote from Etsy.  I ordered it the minute we got the nursery painted!)

Reality Row

This week, "Reality Row" has been heavy on my mind.  The week has brought the perfect storm of holiday nostalgia, workout struggles, and the annual "December 18th is coming" anxiety, sadness, and reflection. So, amid all the frantic Christmas preparations and stress, stress, stress at work, I find my mind otherwise occupied with the little photo gallery I keep along the top edge of my dresser mirror.  I call it "Reality Row," a collection of three photos that remind me of the things that are most important in my life.  

Every morning in our house, a minor miracle takes place: I get out the door to work on time.  Between sleeping in until the last possible moment, getting in a workout, preparing and eating a worthwhile breakfast that will keep me from getting hungry at 9:30, finding clean, "usually" wrinkle-free clothes, and packing up a lunch, mornings are a blur.  I am so completely dependent upon my amazing husband who takes care of the dogs, gets the coffee going, usually ends up making breakfast, finds my keys, finds my shoes, and finds my brain.  I can't even begin to imagine how we will survive once children enter the equation.  But that's a topic for another day...

That's why Reality Row is displayed where it is.  I usually have time for about 90 seconds in front of my mirror in the morning.  And so I can't help but start my day with a glance at the photos, which give me lots to think and pray about during my 20-minute drive to work.

You can see that my dresser-top is also full of special things.  The picture of my newest goddaughter, whom I've only met and held once, but whom I love with all my heart.  The bottle from the wine we drank on the night we got engaged (NOT the whole bottle, thank you) and the gold-plated rose Tim gave me for our "one-year-until-we-get-married" day, to help break up what felt like an eternal engagement.  A 4-picture frame that contains one shot from each year of high school, packed with crazy memories. Hiding in the foreground along the front edge, you should know, is my Charles Woodson jersey - VERY special. And then all the typical girl-dresser crap: lotions and potions and jewelry and candles and a little of this and a lot of that.


I thought about cleaning the dresser up before taking a picture, posting it online, and thereby immortalizing my slovenly tendencies.  But first of all, that would have been very dishonest.  Secondly, and more importantly, I kind of like how the insanity of the dresser-top, set up against the clean, focused backdrop of my mirror and my Reality Row, leads into my point... which I am getting to... I promise...  Life just gets crazy! We all know it, we've all experienced it to some degree.  So here is what I think about when I finish getting ready, take a glance in the mirror, and am reminded what life is truly about:


(from the PICTURES, not from looking at my face)


Far right: my family on my wedding day.  This picture makes me grateful for SO many things.  First of all, the fact that I HAD a wedding day, which brought me together forever with the awesomest person I know.  Who happens to be washing the dishes right now, voluntarily, so that I can sit here and blab on the computer.  See? Awesome. Then I look at my parents, who have given me so much: the gift of faith through baptism.  A full Christian education.  Independence and responsibility at FOURTEEN years old to go away to school.  Support, unconditional love, a couple of cars, most of my favorite recipes, access to Packers Season Tickets... let's just stop there.  We all know that's the best part.  If I can be half as amazing a parent as they have been to me, my child will be incredibly blessed.  Then I look at my brothers, and the first thing I do is laugh, which also makes me grateful.  I have so many different types of relationships with classmates, work friends, church members, patients, relatives... but my relationship with those two weirdos just brings a smile to my face.  It's not a very serious relationship... maybe someday it will be, but for now, it's mostly about goofing around, cracking jokes, picking on Mom, and playing games.  It's so incredibly refreshing.  Finally, I look at the picture as a whole, and see FAMILY, which my mind takes a few steps farther to include my fabulous grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, and all of the NEW family I gained on this wedding day.  My new parents and sister and brother and nephew, without whom my life would now have a giant void.  There is SO MUCH to be grateful for in this picture.  There is so much to aspire toward in this picture.  There is a LOT of food for thought in this picture!


Middle: with Tim and some friends in Mexico in November 2009.  As much as I DEARLY love the friends we took this trip with, they are not what I see first when I look at the picture (sorry, ladies).  The first thing I can't HELP but see is the person hogging the front and center position: myself, 2 years and 60 pounds ago.  And Tim, about 40 pounds ago.  I think about how much more we both could have enjoyed that trip if we'd been more in shape and generally happier people.  And I thank God that He has given us the strength to work through our issues, and helped us to find joy in exercise and decent food.  It doesn't feel like "work" anymore.  Well, it does at 5:30 in the morning when it's dark and cold and I just want to sleep.  But 2 years ago, that moment would have been the make-or-break-it decision point for the whole day.  NOW, should I choose to sleep in, I've developed the discipline and, more importantly, the DESIRE to fix that choice later on in the day with a lunchtime or after-work workout.  No more excuses.  I've been through this "phase" many times in my life, but for once it doesn't feel like it's a phase.  Instead of a crash-course, it's been two solid years of good choices, slow progress, and lifestyle changes, shaping our routine into something we enjoy and value tremendously.  And that is SO important, with children coming onto the scene in the near future.  God sure knows what He's doing.  It took over a year for me to move through the many stages that come between "ugh, I hate this" and "this is an irreplaceable part of my life." Had He blessed us with children somewhere in between, I might have let it go a lot more easily.  Every extra day He gives me to work on just MYSELF, my health, my ambition, my happiness... is a GIFT.  Not just to me, not just to Tim, but ultimately to the children we will raise.


Far left: a Christmas card from 2006.  I'm going to make a long story short, because it's really not my story to tell.  It's a story of unimaginable pain and loss, but I have learned SO much from it.  I hope "learned" is an okay word.  It makes me uncomfortable to reference ANY kind of goodness that has come to me out of the situation, because it comes at great cost to someone I love very much.  The gorgeous couple in the picture were engaged in September of 2006.  At the time I hardly knew her: we had been co-workers for a month, and I'd only met him twice before he was deployed to Iraq.  I can't say I "loved" either one of them yet, because I hardly knew them, but I "loved" them as a couple.  I could see that they were so blissfully happy together.  They drove each other to be better, stronger people.  They were absolutely meant to be.  On December 18, 2006, he gave his life for his country.  I found out at about 2:00 when I came back to work from lunch.  When I got home at 7:15, a complete wreck, this Christmas card was sitting on the table.  It absolutely did me in; I think I went straight to bed.  A month later, when I started throwing out the year's Christmas cards as I always do, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of this one.  It felt irreverent.  So I kept it.  At first it was tucked away in a drawer, because it still brought bitter tears.  She was just coming back to work, and the emotions were still so raw in all of us.  Then, a couple months later, I moved it out into the open, on a window ledge at home.  I could occasionally look at it without crying.  She and I were getting closer, which was natural.  We worked together in close quarters 40 hours a week.  I tried to talk about him, to help her heal.  I tried to talk about anything BUT him, to help distract her.  I probably did and said all the wrong things, but she could tell that I cared, and so she leaned on me and trusted me.  And MOST incredibly, she let me lean on her.  This tragedy she had been through was not her first, and it would not be the last.  Even then, in the midst of losing a fiancee, her family was working through cancer treatment and a million other awful things.  But through it all, she was a friend TO ME, holding up her end of the two-way street, offering support for all the little boo-boo's life brought me five years ago, so trivial I can't even remember what they could possibly have been.  Today, her friendship is priceless to me.  And when I look at the picture, no longer hidden in a drawer but a permanent part of Reality Row, I am reminded to be grateful every second of every day for all the blessings I have been given.  They can be taken away so quickly.


After the frenzy of getting myself out the door, and before the frenzy of arriving at work to a waiting room full of patients and three ringing phone lines... on the days I don't call my mom with a random question, or call Tim with the dinner instructions I forgot to give him, these are the things I think about from 8:40-9:00 every morning.  


I know many of you have pictures on your dresser mirrors, too, of people you love and places you've been.  Or maybe things you want to achieve, travels you want to take, people you want to be like.  I hope these pictures, ticket stubs, and precious memorabilia keep you grounded, bring you peace, and make you grateful.