From Shattered to Shining: Our Adoption Story

This morning, Emmy and I had the pleasure of selling cookies and lemonade at an adoption yard sale for some sweet friends of ours. Since we live in a new place, many of our friends here don't know the amazingly ordained story of our Emily.  Every time, I tell the details of our adoption journey, their mouths drop open and agree that only God could write something that beautiful.

So if you haven't followed our blog for the last 4 years or you just love hearing about how Jesus works all things for good, grab a snack and I'll share my favorite story, the story of Emily.

It was this exact week, 4 years ago when my world shattered.  We had waited and waited through the adoption process, had been matched with a potential birthmother, went to appointments, met family and began our plans to finally be parents.  Four years ago this week, my dream came to a screeching halt. I wrote about it here. I was so broken. I still remember the pain.

My heart started to harden. I remember telling God that I didn't think He was being a good Father. Why was He withholding when everything is at His fingertips? That was in October.  Pay attention to that date. 

Thanksgiving was blur because I wasn't thankful at all. My Grandpa who I dearly loved was in his last days and Sully was traveling a lot playing drums. My soul felt like the gray of winter. I sat at a Christmas Eve service, crying and being so thankful that it was dark in there so no one saw me. I was hurt and I felt overlooked.

On my way to say goodbye to my Grandpa, I listened to Ann Voscamp's A Thousand Gifts. In her book, she expresses this idea of open hands to whatever God gives and to practice giving thanks even in the hardest times.  I cried as I drove and opened my hands with our journey. I finally resolved in my heart that God and eternity with Him had to be enough, even if I was never a mother. I finally felt at peace. This was in December.

We said goodbye to my Grandpa and he met Jesus face to face. I left the hospital with my sister and Sully. When we got to the car I said, "Maybe Grandpa will tell God to send us a baby?" 

You won't believe me, but I have witnesses. Two minutes later, Sully's work phone rings and he sends it to voicemail. We listen and it's a girl, expressing through tears that she would like to make an adoption plan and got our number from someone at the hospital named Kristy Branson. Two minutes!

Here's the catch, I didn't know anyone named Kristy Branson and I didn't know anyone that worked in that part of the hospital. Naturally, I went to Facebook and looked up Kristy Branson. We'd never met. I connected with her and she was surprised.  You see, it was now December and she met that girl at the hospital in October. Guess when?  Right after I wrote the post about our failed adoption. We lived in a small town so a friend of a friend shared it. She read it and then picked up a PRN shift in the ER. For the non-nurses, that kinda means like "as-needed".  Kristy got called into a room that wasn't her patient and as soon as she walks in, the girl says, "I would like to make an adoption plan, do you know anyone?"

Are you following this?! In October, my world is crushed and I write about it. A friend shares it and this Kristy woman sees it. She is touched by it. Goes into work and then gets called randomly into a room where someone asks her if she knows anyone wanting to adopt. CRAY.  Kristy didn't have our number but she knew the place where Sully worked, so she gave the girl that number.

She didn't call....until December. Right after I say, "Maybe Grandpa will tell God to give us a baby?".

Divine, y'all.

I shared with my sister what was going on and she said, "Wow, if that works out, thats going to be an incredible story."

It would be an amazing story even if the story ended there. But it didn't.

March rolled around and it was time for Emily to make her entrance.  We get the call and head to the hospital. Let me just lay out what we were met with once we got there.

-The doctor who delivered Emily? An adoptive mother.
-The nurse that helped our birthmom through the delivery? She was adopted.
-The nurse that took care of Emily? Emily Ann. No E. The SAME NAME we picked out months before she was born.
-Emily was born on my Dad's birthday, once again connecting her to my Grandpa.

I could not have written a better story.

I am so thankful that the Lord closed one door so that I could walk through the journey of bringing Emily home. I will never doubt she was meant for us and I will never doubt God's hand in all of it.

As long as I live and as long as people will listen, I will tell the story, my favorite story, of what God has done.

My heart was shattered to make way for Him to shine and I am so thankful.

Mini Me vs. Mini He

I've always loved to write.  A Young Authors award in 4th grade may be my highest writing accolade but I'll take it. 

Published writers are always encouraging aspiring writers to spend large amounts of time to bringing words to life.  I wish I could do that.  

I write when prompted by the beauty or tragedy of a moment.. 

I write when given inspiration by the Spirit. 

The timing isn't always convenient. 

So in my phone, lives voice memos and notes of inspiration because you can't blog while you're driving. #safetyfirst #handsfreegeorgia

I felt a prompting this morning, a wave of inspiration came and it looked like this. 

If you've follow my social media, you have been inundated with pictures and videos of my silly little Emily.  I even made a profile for her videos on Insta (@emily_ann_says) so I could catalog it all in one place.  I have received so many messages about her charisma and spice. 

One message in particular came from another adoptive momma. Knowing she would understand I began to share with her about adoption. I told her that I over share and don't care because I am so amazed by her. She doesn't have my DNA but man, she holds my heart. 

I am surprised at this little entertainer she is becoming but I am not sure why. 

If you know me, you know I am a nut that doesn't meet a stranger and I have a flare for the dramatic. I LOVE to make people laugh.  

That is Emily, hands down. 

Yet, I find myself wondering in amazement about how she could be so funny and where she gets it from?  Was her spice knit together at the same time as the color of her eyes or is she a reflection of me, the person God graciously chose to raise her? 

As I drove, I thought a lot about her birth mom. I don't share much about Emily's family of origin because it's her story to tell but I always wonder what she was like as little girl. 

What parts of who Emily is reflect the home she is living in or the woman gave her life?

I questioned the same for myself. 

At certain times in my life, I find myself reflecting the one who gave me life and then other times I find myself reflecting the one who seems to rule this "home" we're living in temporarily. 

I pray for more times when my heavenly Father looks down and says, "Yes, that love in her heart for.....she got that from me". But if I am honest there are times when I act in such a way that I am not reflecting the one who gave me life. 

You see, it really is nature vs. nurture.  We're all born a little broken and a little prone to wonder, Lord I feel it.  I didn't get to chose that. My nature will constantly pull me in a direction that says, "God doesn't know best."

But I do get to choose what I nurture and who I emulate.  

I choose my spirit and I choose Jesus. This is what I hope Emily gets from me. 

Which do you choose?

While I would LOVE for Emily to be my mini me, I'd being doing the job wrong if she's not a mini He.  

Maybe I am giving her humor and personality but as the words of the hymn I sang to her last night  go, 

Give me Jesus, Give me Jesus.

You can have all this world.

Just give me Jesus. 

Back To Hell

I've had some words lately...Okay, who am I kidding, I have always had words. But lately, I have felt the need to put them out there even if its unpopular or raw.  I've shared about mom guilt, active shooters and mantras I disagree with.

This Ford/Kavanaugh story is no different. People, I really tried. I wanted to stay out of it, if only for self-preservation. The public discourse is heartbreaking. I've heard it said that every time new allegations arise of a public figure, in a way it revictimizes those who have been abused or assaulted.  In a way, it can take the victim back to the moment they felt helpless or objectified.

I wasn't there. I don't know who is telling the truth. I don't know their story but I know my story.

What "they" say is true. For those of us who have walked through things that you wouldn't wish for your children, will all agree. For many, this situation is bringing up past hurts or highlighting scars that haven't been thought about in awhile.  

If we were sitting down for coffee, maybe I could share all the details. But I can't write them and I don't want to. So instead of words like abused, assaulted, taken advantage of or objectified, I am going to use the word hurt. That word represents situations ranging from degrading, demeaning words to awful actions.

I was "hurt" in Elementary School by a peer. 
I was "hurt"in Middle School by someone older than me.  
I was "hurt" in High School by someone I trusted.
I was "hurt" in College by a coworker. *I actually told a female manager and she blew me off. Let's do better and expect better, ladies. 

For the last 15 years, I have not thought about these things daily. But lately, I can't shake them because, social media.  Recently while getting ready, I was thinking through the ways that I have been "hurt". That rabbit trail led me to the dark spots I have been in even by my own choices. I found myself appalled by it all, ranging from sad to every shade of mad.  If you knew me than, you would have never thought, I'd be a pastor. 

But then I was reminded of the words I heard from a fiery southern woman this weekend as she spoke at her son's funeral. Speaking about lies or things that are meant to harm us she said, "We need to pray and send that right back to Hell, where it came from!" 

You see, this whole highlight of abuse in the news was taking me back to the times of hell in my own life. The times I felt alone and separated from God. So at the advice of the bold, grieving daughter of Christ, I claimed that I was made new and sent those memories straight back to hell. 

My "hurt" was a strategy that Satan tried to used to harm me. But y'all, my Creator is a Master Restorer. This week, I taught about Revelation 21, you know the amazing part when God makes everything new and "everything sad comes untrue"(Sally Lloyd Jones).

But did you know friend, that our hearts can be made new right now.  I was so shocked when I was recalling the past because when I look back, it doesn't even feel like my life.  Shoutout to Jesus and EMDR Therapy.  

2 Corinthians 5:17 makes a beautiful promise. "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come."

So there's my new mantra y'all.  When I am reminded of the harmful choices of others or the mistakes of my own, I will send the enemy scurrying when I claim, "Behold, the new has come".

Girl, Wash Their Feet.

There is a super popular book out right now, making the rounds through Christian circles.

From what I can tell, it's giving a voice to many who have seen themselves as less than and believed lies about themselves.

From what I can tell, the author would be a blast to hang out with and I bet we'd have a good laugh.

But, from what I can tell, the book falls short of what really helps someone feel whole and see themselves in light of how the Creator sees them.

But, it's not just this book.

The enemy has taken this idea of rest in Christ and hijacked it, labeling it "self-care".

Self-care should be things like eating well, sleeping well, making time for friendships, exercising and laughter. These are good things. This is being a steward of the life God gave you and being your healthiest to bring the most glory to Him. This sisters, is good and holy.

But that isn't what "self-care" has become. It has started to rear it's head with this manta, "Do what is best for you.''  Some authors/bloggers/personalities have actually said, "You should be the first of your priorities" or "You are meant to be the hero of your own story"

Sisters,  please tell me we know better than that.

I would have thought by now, that the enemy would have gotten some new material. Yet we find him using the same lie he told Eve in the garden. It's that whispering that God doesn't know what is best for you. You need to seize and take hold of what you want. 

I am calling a foul on all of it because it is a lie.

If you are the first of your priorities, your life will be incredibly empty. Who wants to be friends with someone who always puts themselves first?  We have met those people. We see them on TV.  Wall Street, Men who take advantage and women who backstab. But hey, they were just making themselves the first priority.

If you are the hero of your own story,  you're selling yourself short. 
The Creator who hung the stars, split seas and brought dead to life wants to be your hero and you are taking the bet on you?  Last time I checked, I am a hot mess that does my best to love my tribe hard and serve people but I still fall short. EVERY. TIME.  If I am holdin' out for a hero, it ain't gonna be me.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Don't worry, I am about to get off my soapbox.  But if you're still with me, I just want to tell you that I have been at the end of my rope. I have cried in the fetal position at night, crying and speaking the name of Jesus because my world felt so dark.

Washing my face did not help.

Jesus saved me. His words told me to press into Him and His heart. I committed scripture to memory, that was my "vision board", I sought out spiritual mentors to lift me up and I served people. I got up and went to work and I taught kids about a loving Father who is with them even when they are scared, sad, lonely and afraid.

Jesus was carrying the weight of the world on His shoulders and yet He knelt to wash feet.

If you are struggling, I promise you as counterintuitive as it seems.....Girl, wash their feet. 

Jesus truly wants more for you than you. His heart is for your eternity, not your entertainment. If we are the captains of our own ships, we will crash every time. Let Him be you anchor in times where you feel less than, overlooked and undervalued.  He sees you, He loves you and He wants you forever. Cue Lauren Daigle's new album, "Look Up Child"

You know, He had a vision board too and He willingly was hung on it because, you... in eternity...with Him. That's the vision.

I Want To Be All The Things

I want to be a devoted follower of Jesus.

I want to be a servant-hearted wife.

I want to be an intentional mother.

I want to be an impactful pastor.

I want to be healthy in my mind and body.

I want to have thriving friendships.

I want to be all the things.


All of the above are good. All of the above are ordained. All of the above are callings and all of the above have an eternal impact.

But if I am strong in one area for a time, something else seems to suffer.  It's like they are all constantly in conflict with one another.

I think it's a season, but maybe not.  Sure, I have toddlers. But while their physical needs of potty-training and  The boo-boos take time, it's nothing in comparison to the issues of the teenage years. So the season will look different but the emotional attention will only increase.

I ask God weekly, to show me which one of the things I should stop or give less time.

Update: silence. Well, that's not entirely true. It's not been complete silence. If anything, it's, keep going. 

And so I carry on with an unbalanced amount for these each week. Some weeks I am the most devoted follower of Jesus and some weeks I am the most intentional mother. However, those are the weeks, I don't take care of myself or feel like I am not going above and beyond for the church. Then there are weeks where I am a devoted wife/homemaker and an "all-in" pastor but my kids just see my working. Housework and ministry "work" looks the same to them.  I had a moment this week where someone said, "you and my wife should hang out". To which I replied, I'd like that but I don't have time for friends".  Not okay. Sure, I could make time but then its time away from Sully, or kids, or self-care or .......

Usually, with this blog, I share some devotional truth that the Holy Spirit has given to me but I don't have one this time. Actually, I am hoping you do.

If you feel pulled in 7 eternity-impacting directions, how do you manage it?

Help a girl out.

Holding A Miracle.

Two years ago today, I experienced one of my Top 3 favorite moments of my life. I experienced a day I never thought would be part of my story.   At about this time, I was sitting at Williamson Medical with my favorite people waiting for Ezra to arrive.

If we're new friends, you might not know.

You might not know that we didn't think we could have kids.  You might not know about our failed adoption and how awful that was. I will always remember the burn my eyes felt from the tears.

You might not know about the amazing story of when we found out about our birth mom.

You might not even know the beautiful picture God painted at Emily's birth.

______________________________________

So there I was at the hospital, wanting to come out as unscathed as possible. My goal was simple, not die.  I have always been terrified of birth and actually never mourned the idea of no delivery when we were waiting for children.

God did so much more than allow me to "not die".

It was about 7pm, everything was prepped and the worship music was going. "Unstoppable God" was playing when my boy entered the world.  My favorite line of that song is, "impossible things in your name will still be done".

On paper, it was impossible for me to be in the place I was that evening.   They handed my son to me and I was overwhelmed.  I held him and all I could utter was, "Thank you Jesus,  I praise you, Jesus".

 I have never felt so close to God in my entire life.  Through my body and into my hands I experienced creation.  Here was this tiny soul, entrusted to me that didn't exist before.  Ezra had been handcrafted and brought here by the power of God and I was holding that in my hands. 

The nature of our Creator was in my hands. 

                                     

I can't believe this baby miracle is two years old today. I feel like someone has hit the fast-forward button on my life.

Nowadays there is much less time holding our miracle and much more time spent chasing, wrestling and FEEDING (but for real, how can he eat so much?) our miracle.

When I was waiting with empty arms, I was so mad at God.

But, oh my word, I would have missed out on the incredible beauty of the moments I experienced when both of my miracles came into the world.

So happy birthday to my boy that it is a living reminder that God is still in the business of doing the amazing. God is still in the business of creating and God is still in the business of doing far more than we can ask or imagine.

In the words of my girl AV,

eucharisteo

More Than A Party

Last weekend we celebrated my sweet boy turning two. My boy loves balls so naturally, we had to go big with that. 

Part of me wishes I had a taken more photos with the exact right lighting and composition but toddlers are fast and I wanted to be in the moment.

What a sweet moment it was.  I had planned for us to be outside playing for a good chunk of the time but after a short time outside, a storm popped up and drove wild children with whistles into my house.

It was packed. It was loud. And I loved it.

We were deeply rooted at WellSpring. We built our life there for close to a decade. We got engaged there, married there and brought our babies home there.  Rooted.

For the first several months here, I felt like I was Dorothy waking up from Oz and trying to find counterparts for my WellSpring family. I would see remnants of my Carrie in people or try desperately to find another Scott. I found someone I can roll my eyes with and that made me think of my Becky. I even found someone who talks exactly like Jodi Barnhill, y'all.  People, I even miss my doctors. Who does that?

But none of it is the same and if I am outright honest, which I always have been on this blog, I struggle with that.  I miss my people.  Even writing this, my eyes water and my heart flutters.

But last weekend was a turning point.

I felt rooted.  I looked around and saw all these people that have blessed my heart so much and I never would have met them. I would not have Margie, who has a heart of gold and tells like it is(P.S-She is a huge blessing to Compassion Christian Kids). I wouldn't have Maggie, who walked almost the exact same journey of waiting, adoption loss and finally bringing adopted children home, 7 DAYS after I brought Emily home. Same year.  There wouldn't be Denise (also the counterpart to Kelly G), who has been so open and loving and can see my sass and raise it. I wouldn't have Catherine and Dylan that will put on the janky Moana wig when my three-year-old asks them too.

This weekend was more than a party.

It was a reminder that we are blooming where we have been planted, we are loved and that the Church around the world is really just a group of friends in places we haven't met yet.

I miss my WellSpring people but I also love my Compassion fam.

And I guess that's one of the beauties of Heaven. I will have them both.

And Jesus.

That will truly be more than a party.