Christmas Expectations...

I am not sure what I had expected for Christmas this year. I had done research, read articles on the best ways to keep Christmas relaxed and not overwhelming for an ASD kid. I had prepared myself for Adi not appearing interested or being indifferent but I was not prepared for the look of betrayal on his face. The confusion and hurt that I saw in his eyes and the anger that emerged. It broke my heart.

Christmas Eve we headed to the Vandy Children’s Hospital to help serve at their Christmas Eve service. Something about being there and coming home to open their Christmas Eve Jammies triggered something painful in my boy. He came after me with a vengeance and clawed, pinched and hit me in the face till Brian could get him pulled off. I had dealt with this before…but this time his face broke my heart. I was the woman that tried to step into the role of mom to him and he was angry, hurt, sad and LOST. Brian pulled him into our room to calm while I lay on the floor of Adi’s room sobbing and asking God how to fix this. As a mom, I just want to be able to fix the pain and make it easier but I cannot save my boy from this grief. He must walk through it and slowly come to terms with the changes in his world. At the same time, we were receiving emails from birth parents, sharing their pictures and memories from this time last year. They were hurting too and I was struggling to comfort everyone that was feeling so raw and exposed.

Christmas morning was just about as hard. The same anger still resided in my little boy and I was stressed because his only source of comfort had to go to church. Daddy was leaving us for a while to go play for the Christmas service. Adi retreated to his room. Laying in his bed and withdrawing into a world of electronics. Anna Beth and I followed his lead and allowed him the space. After an hour, I went to his door and requested to come in and hug him. He agreed but offered little in the way of communication. I left his room with a small amount of hope as he had no anger left in him. A few minutes later Adi emerged from his room and climbed right on top of me, ready to quietly re-enter the family. By the time daddy arrived back home, we were on better footing and ready to face the rest of our day.

This first year will be the hardest. Each event or milestone is a step farther from the past and with that brings greater trust but also grief. We are never sure what the triggers are or what will trigger memories but they cause raw and painful emotions to surface. How do you comfort a 5 year old that has all the feels but no way to process them? How do you explain the logic of what happened to him when he does not process thoughts in a logical way? The answer…you don’t. You pray hard, you comfort when you can, you allow for a safe space to express those emotions and you wait for the day when you can share with him his story. How do you comfort birth parents that made a hard /brave choice but are now grieving a loss you can only attempt to imagine? The answer…you don’t. You offer hope, you open your heart to listen to their grief, you share what you can, and you pray God continues to open the door to share salvation with them.

There are days that I wonder how far God can stretch me before I break. But isn’t that what God wants? He wants to break me so more of HIM can be revealed. He wants our story to reflect HIS redemptive power. This Christmas there was joy too. It was that little flicker of hope for what God was doing. Each moment of raging allows for a deeper trust. It provides opportunities for us to pray over Adi out loud so he can be witness to the realness and comfort of this Jesus we always talk about. It gives us opportunities to pour out grace on people that were once strangers to us but are now forever a part of our hearts. The orchestration of our family could have only happened by the hand of God and there is hope in that. I am not sure what 2017 will hold and the “TYPE A” in me would love to plan it out but 2016 has proven that to go deeper with my Jesus, I must surrender my plans. I must place my trust in God and allow Him to continue to push me farther from my comfort zones. My expectations destroy opportunities for God to work in my heart. I’m setting goals that allow flexibility for God’s plans to take precedence. As hard as this story has been, I would choose it over and over again.

Wrapping Up 2016!

How do you wrap up a year like this in just a few sentences? How do you express a year of faith and emotion in one blog? Brian and I sat and talked for about 2 hours last night. Each of us mentally walking through the changes we have experienced and been witness to this year. Both of us quietly in awe of our God stories. There is nothing else that can explain the orchestration of this past year.

We started January 2016 discouraged. In fact Christmas 2015 felt uncertain and disheartening. We had already been in conversations with Adi’s birth parents for 2 months at that point and we felt discouraged by their responses. We had a very small circle of people that we could be completely honest and open with about the conversations taking place behind the scenes. We went to work, church and events with heavy hearts but could not share why. It was not till the end of February that we had an answer. Unless something drastic happened, Adi would soon be coming home to Tennessee. I will never forget the moment we told AB it was happening. She had hoped, dreamed and prayed just like we had. She was just as emotionally invested in this process as we were. I have said it before and I will say it again, that kid is tough as nails. She guards her heart closely and the day she realized she could swing it open, we saw her exhale as though she had been holding her breath for years. Many times we have wondered why God asked us to wait so very long and we may never really know the answer to that question. We both know that God used those years to change our expectations and desires for our adoption. Four years ago we would have not been open to such a unique adoption and all the messy that came with it.

March 19th we made the fastest and hardest trip to meet our son for the very first time. We spent 15 hours in a car, with three, fifteen minute stops so we could arrive in time to meet a family that would forever be intertwined with ours. He had no idea he would be ours. Our time there was emotionally taxing as we were attempting to enter Adi’s world, balance the emotions of our birth parents with our excitement. As a mom, you always imagine holding your child for the first time. As an adoptive mom, you can’t wrap your head around meeting your child when he is 4 ½…I know you don’t know me but I love you, want you, prayed for you and will push you to be your very best. That older girl, sitting on the floor next to you, reading you a book….she prayed for a brother like you for a very long time and she wants you to know that she will protect you. That man, sliding to the floor beside you…he has the biggest heart you will ever know and he will tuck you in every night with prayers and kisses. He will stand over you after you are asleep and stare in wonder that God gave you to us. That first meeting…it shattered my heart. I sat in the floor with birth momma, hugging, and shed tears…we knew this was best but we also knew the grief would be heavy, the quiet she would soon experience would be deafening.

We rushed home and begin finalizing paperwork, painting and decorating his room. Calling the school and setting up meetings, picking a pediatrician, getting medical records and reports sent to the correct offices and sharing our story with a wider group of people. Nothing was set in stone until they signed those papers so we worked in faith. Finally the date was set, bags were packed and we made our way back to New York on May 8th, 2016. I was terrified! If everything went as planned, Brian would leave me behind, in this huge city, with 2 kids, one of which I barely knew. I could be here 2 weeks and possibly have to put my oldest on a plane by herself. But God knows what we need and when we need it. He knows when to rescue us and when to ask more of us. The morning of May 9th changed our family forever. We arrived at the adoption agency just a little while after the birth parents had left. We sat in the same room where they had forever signed away the rights to Adi. Trusting us with his care and believing we were the best choice for their son. I had papers put in my hands…told to sign and initial on several lines and then I looked up into the kind eyes of the case worker. I saw grief and happiness reflected there and I broke. Tears rushed out of my eyes as I realized he was ours but also that he was no longer theirs. I cannot say that we left that office overjoyed and excited. We left that office with heavy hearts at what was still left to face and relief that God had given us a new story. The next two weeks were the hardest we have faced as a family since my bought with cancer in 2010. There was joy in it too but we had to look for it. We had to fight for it. God gave us a miracle that week and our paperwork was processed faster than anyone expected. On May 14th, Anna Beth, Adi, birth parents and I all boarded a plane and headed home. We arrived home and prepared ourselves for watching a long, hard goodbye. I think I shed so many tears that week I was dehydrated. We had pictures done with birth parents, we went on outings, we spent hours talking about their expectations, and finally we said goodbye.

The last half of this year has been surreal. November 22nd, 2016 Adi officially because Aditya Davis Wood! There are still times that Brian and I sneak in to watch Adi sleep for a few minutes just to make sure we did not dream it. We have watched Anna Beth in amazement as she has shown grace, unconditional love and amazing sensitivity to her new sibling. It has been beautiful and it is been so hard. We have had parenting fails and parenting wins. We have fought hard to not loose US during this process. We have learned so much about being intentional every day with our words and actions. We have continued to build our relationship with birth parents while still creating boundaries. We have protected Adi till he felt safe and now we push Adi to expand his walls. We have held Anna Beth as she has navigated the new experience of being a sibling and also the challenges of Middle School. And Brian and I have gone deeper in our relationship as we talk and pray through the hard of this past year. We are turning a corner as we head into this New Year. We will finish our year by dedicating Adi to Jesus on December 18th. We are hoping for a quieter season of life but also looking forward to seeing God work. We want to thank all of you for praying us through this last year. While we are both introverts that are terrible at being social, (still not sure how Anna Beth ended up an extrovert) we appreciate you. We are grateful for you asking us how we are and what we need. For being our village as we navigated some messy days. For crying with us, cheering us on, and quietly nodding your head at us from across the room in solidarity. I am grateful to put 2016 behind us but that does not mean I don’t rejoice in it. I am just ready to move forward and laugh more than I cry…serve more…move out of comfort zones…I want to continue my passion for raising kids to know and love Jesus… to be a village for others. I look forward with expectation to 2017 while quietly reflecting on a year where we saw God change our hearts, and family.

#Yearsinthemaking

We recently finished our last home visit with our adoption agency and are awaiting a finalization of Adi’s adoption. We started this adoption with an email in October of 2015. It is hard to believe it has been almost 6 months of learning this little guy. Spending hours watching him sleep, struggle to understand, and finally come to a place of peace. We will still have hard days ahead of grief and anxiety but for the most part, we are through the hardest transitions. Adi knows who his family is and prefers us over anyone else now. His battles with his sister have lessened and he sleeps without restless dreams, no more waking every little bit to make sure we are still there. He just trusts that we will do what we promise. Our promises are important so we follow through no matter how small. He is starting to delight in family outings and talks about them for days and weeks following. He has found a voice and is learning that it is safe to use it with us. He knows we will love him through his anger and celebrate his accomplishments, loudly I might add. Slowly we are broaching the subject of how he came to be in our family and he is starting to not be fearful or angry when discussing it. God is making himself real to Adi and we are grateful to be witness to that miracle. We remind him daily that Jesus is always with him, even though he cannot see him. That Jesus protects him and gives us everything we need.

Our birth parents are healing and moving forward. We love them and see them in Adi’s face and hear them in his voice. We are fiercely protective of them and also overwhelmed with the responsibility of that. The grief is still there for them but not as overwhelming. We are still praying that God gives them a peace about their choice so they can fully trust us to raise Adi. They have refused counseling so the process is longer and harder. They are opening their hearts to hear from God. We are seeing God work in amazing ways and are praying that He uses this adoption to bring them to the cross. Each week we see a softening in their emails and delight at his pictures/videos rather than hurt. We will soon be moving to less frequent contact and are praying that will give us all progress in the transition.

Anna Beth has faced so much change this year. It has been as hard to watch her walk through these changes as it has been with Adi. Eleven years as an only child and then to suddenly have a 4 year old brother invade every area of your life is hard. She observed all the hard of birth parents grief; she was witness to and victim to Adi’s grief, and she grieved the change in her own family. She wanted this adoption but wanting something does not lessen the effect of it. At the same time of going from the one and only, she was given more independence in the move to Middle School. My girl wants to love having independence but she really LOVES being our little girl. So many hard things she has faced in personal relationships with friends, family dynamic changes, and added responsibility. Anna Beth has not handled all of it well but she has handled most of it with more maturity than I see in some grown adults. We are proud of her and when she struggles, we step in to support and guide. We have moved into a new phase of parenting with her and it is so hard to change roles. She no longer needs our constant physical supervision but now she needs our spiritual and emotional support even more. Daddy and I have had so many quiet conversations on how to love her best through this hard. Sometimes we get it wrong but God showers grace on us in those moments. She continues to grow in beauty both inside and out.

In the last 6 months, Brian and I have dealt with more changes and grief on less sleep than any human should have to endure. At the same time, we have believed that God would sustain us so we have kept moving forward, knowing that the intensity would lessen with time. Many nights we dealt with the kids by dividing and conquering. As patience waned with one, we would switch off kids and plow through. I admittedly have struggled the most between the two of us. Birth momma has sought me out the most and I have been her support through the grief, sometimes daily. There were days that her grief was almost more than I could bare, while at the same time I was trying to walk Adi and AB through their anxiety and grief. There were days I would sit at my desk and just work through tears… tears of grief, exhaustion, and uncertainty, before heading home to face a night of hard. Kids needing emotional support, laundry piled up, a house that had not been truly clean in months and a husband that I lived in the same house with but we could hardly connect. Most of our deep conversations were done through email once we arrived at work. Both of us are emerging out of the fog now, we are planning dates, we are no longer too tired to stay up and talk, and we are able to now push Adi and AB to fly some on their own. We did not adopt a baby, we adopted an almost 5 year old that came with deep emotional baggage, his own opinions that he could not express, and he scrambled to maintain control of something so he felt safe. Slowly we are learning how to function as a family of 4 (#Woodfam4), to thrive and be able to see outside of our little world again. (Please forgive us if we have failed to see and reach out to you the last 6 months) The ties that bind us are growing stronger and God is molding us daily to His image. As we are quickly approaching the end of 2016 and will be celebrating 13 years of marriage soon after, we can now look back with appreciation at the hard of this past year. A year fraught with uncertainty, deep emotional pain, crazy highs, and lots of hard work…many times just trudging through each day. We fought hard to trust God and have been rewarded beyond our comprehension. Once again, God blew away the box we had Him in and made himself real to all of us, including our extended family and friends.

Hard Things

Sometimes God calls you to hard things. Hard things usually involve more than one heart and lots of expectations. This is the case in our adoption. We have agreed and wanted an open adoption with our birth parents. This is both beautiful and hard. Beautiful because it allows for healing, open communication, opportunities for the child to have questions answered in the future, and most of all, an opportunity to share Jesus. Hard because you have to set boundaries, you have to stop trying to live up to their expectations in parenting, you have to let them go so they can heal, and most of all, you have to watch them struggle with their own choices as they learn a new role.

Our story has been long in coming. We spent months in conversations, emails, and Skype calls before we were chosen. We later found out that the birth father originally wanted a different couple. We worked together with birth parents to ease the transition, including them flying back with us and spending several days in our home. We took pictures together, we wept together, we struggled to find our footing together, and we comforted each other. Watching them walk out that door together for last time, I sobbed deep heart sobs as the weight of their grief crushed me. Brian comforted me as I gave in to all the hard moments of the previous weeks and months.

We turned away and began the task of reassuring our son that he was loved, not abandoned. That the choices made would not crush him but were ordained by God for his betterment. Days, weeks, and now months later we have developed trust, albeit fragile. We have developed a healthy relationship with birth parents where in the beginning it was demanding, hard, and harsh with grief. We have gently taught him about Jesus, the one that loves him more than all of his parents can imagine. We have watched him learn to pray, to sing about the one that made him, and to rest in comfort that he is safe. We have sent emails to the birth parents of him praying, singing and talking about Jesus. We have given credit to God that he is adjusting and thriving. Slowly but surely we are seeing an acknowledgement of God in those missives that flow back and forth between the 4 parents that love our son so much.

Last week I received a package in the mail, one that brought me to tears. It held two precious gifts from our birth mother. One was a necklace for me, acknowledging Adi as our child. The second was a bracelet for Anna Beth with Indian symbols from Adi’s heritage. The note with the gifts stated that both had deep meaning and were as special as we were. I sent birth mom an email and asked her what the bracelet meant and what she sent back has me undone. The bracelet pictured below is a symbol of the strong bond between a sister and brother. Typically the brother wears it as a promise to be a protector for his sister. In this case, the birth mom felt that Anna Beth was more of Adi’s protector and that Adi would one day earn the privilege of wearing it. In that moment, I watched as I saw my daughter’s eyes soften and fill with love towards her brother, that at times, can be hard to live beside.

Sometimes God calls us to hard things but there is joy and growth in the journey. There are hearts that change, soften and move towards our Father’s heart. We are praying that God does big things not just in ours and Adi’s heart but also in the broken hearts of our birth parents. God’s purpose is not always clear but there is purpose. There is always the plan of drawing us near. He will do anything and everything to draw us unto himself. He loves us enough to require us to labor, journey, and even suffer as he proves his love towards us.

So many times I have wondered what would have happened if we had quit the adoption process. We were so close to stopping, thinking we had not truly heard God’s call to this. We labored in prayer and could not gain peace to stop…just a few weeks later God brought Adi’s story into our lives. God equips us for every path/challenge he tasks us with. Our hard, at this time, is wrapped up in the most perfect set of brown eyes you can imagine. It requires us to be diligent in our relationships with God, our marriage, our children, and our birth parents. It is exhausting, taxes our limits of patience and grows our capacity to love. Oh friends…the beauty in the hard is so amazing that I could not have imagined it. If given the opportunity, I would choose it all over again. I would weep all those tears, I would grieve deeply, and I would choose to have my heart crushed. My prayer is that I would always be open to walking the hard rather than skipping through the easy.

Triggers...

Last night at dinner, I was watching and interacting with my little family. It has been almost 4 months of being a family of 4 and sometimes Brian and I take for granted how much has changed in those 4 months. We are basically in a routine and everyone, for the most part has adjusted and integrated into our roles. We contentedly march along and then we suddenly get smacked in the face with a painful trigger. Some of our family had come to town a little over a week ago and stayed in a hotel. Brian took the kids over to swim in the hotel pool and visit. Adi fell apart. It was the first time he had been in a hotel since we traveled to New Jersey to bring him home. He was overcome with fear that we would abandon him and it has set off a series of triggers for over a week now.

Brian and I realized that the worst thing we could do, would be to change our schedule and cater to his fears so we have kept up our schedules of school, activities and church. Everywhere we go, he asks if we are coming back to get him. We discuss it before, after and each time we pick him up, the smile that covers his face breaks my heart. I understand that smile comes from the relief that mommy and daddy did not abandon him. One moment he is crying and the next he is angry and abusive.
It is exhausting to face those ups and downs and no, we do not always respond the right way. There were times this weekend that I was so weary of watching my little boy attack Anna Beth that I would grow angry. Not really angry at Adi but angry at the brokenness that has caused such fear and grief. I also saw hope in those moments of deep hurt. Adi has begun to pray when he gets upset. He will stop, with tears in his eyes, his fists clinched, and just start thanking Jesus for everything. He may thank God for Kindergarten, doors, his snack, etc but he is turning his anger into a list of things to be grateful for. Brian and I have, from the moment we brought him home, prayed over him when he is scared, upset and angry. We talk to Jesus as though he is right there with us and ask God to calm Adi, to let him know that Jesus loves him and will protect him. We thank Jesus for our family, for how he is with us at all times and how he made us special. Last night, out of the blue, Adi said, “Mommy, pray with me” and so I did. He sat in the floor with his hands clasped, eyes wide open and listened to me pray, interrupting at times to tell me something else to pray for and it was precious.

God is making himself real to Adi. Despite autism and the limitations society places on this diagnosis, Adi is learning that Jesus loves him. Our God has no barriers to revealing his presence. Someday I fully believe that God will break through and Adi will understand the degree to which Jesus was willing to sacrifice for him. The layers of paperwork, home visits, waiting and grief are so that Adi can learn of Jesus deep devotion to him.

Anna Beth is learning how to love beyond the anger and pain. She is learning to recognize God working through this hard season. I knew that God had prepared her heart for this but it still amazes me to see my 11 year old respond to abuse with love and understanding. This does not mean she is happy about it but she is understanding, that while Adi loves her deeply, his hurt is just as deep. His responses are not appropriate but he has no other skills to express it. Little by little we are seeing this change as we are seeing the trust deepen.

We are careful to not make promises without follow through, we are careful to keep schedules and offer constant assurances. We are adjusting to a life of deep grief and abundant joy. The work is hard, the rewards are too numerous to count but we try. I am a grateful momma that has seen God surround my little ones with people that point them to Jesus. I am grateful for a church that has supported, prayed over and embraced our family. I am grateful for our family that has accepted our choice for adoption and jumped in to love with Adi abandon.

If you think of it, we are traveling with Adi for the first time this weekend. We are preparing him as much as we are able but we will be staying in a hotel. This is likely to cause some fear but this trip, in the end, will also gain trust. Pray for Adi’s heart to feel safe, that he will learn to trust our commitment to him. That we, as his parents and sister, will continue to love him through this hard, to point him to Jesus when he is unsure. We love our little guy with the broken story and big brown eyes. We are stunned each day to be entrusted with his heart.

Behind The Perfectly Painted Door...

There are nights Brian and I lie in bed with a cute little boy snuggled between us and we are stunned. It has been 3 long, exhausting months. As hard as the days and nights are, they are easy compared to the wait to get here. As much as we trusted God when we paid fees, filled out paperwork, went through the process of interviews and updates year after year, we are still stunned. We never expected this…this precious little boy that has filled our hearts and broken them at the same time.

You have seen the pictures on social media. The pictures of couples with chalk boards, balloons, and baby shoes, declaring their intention to adopt. They are sentimental and they get us all feely and cheered up about someone doing something good in this world. You see them raising money and blasting their excitement all over the place. You may even see some of them preparing baby rooms and making plans. Slowly you hear about it less and less and then it just gets quiet. Let me tell you what is happening behind their perfectly painted door…they are grieving. Many of them have gone through years of infertility that walked them down a long path of dying to a dream.

You see, one day they got married, had the perfect wedding, waited the appropriate amount of time and then started trying to have that baby everyone was always asking about. They realized it was taking too long so they changed the way they ate, they tried all these holistic methods, they went to doctors but the reality is… God’s plans are not our plans. Sometimes He says no to our dreams. Sometimes he directs our path differently than we expected. Everyone asking them about when they are going to start that perfect little family just makes it hurt all over again. Then one day, that same sweet couple, after walking through the hard of that grief, hear God calling them to adopt. It seems like the perfect solution and they would be affecting the life of a child who might never know of our heavenly Father otherwise. They get all excited about the possibilities, they go to meetings with agencies, they make plans, they pay fees and they fill out paperwork. They fill out more paperwork then you can possibly imagine! They may even write a letter to that sweet birth momma they have started praying over and then they go home and wait…

At first the wait is fun. You make plans, you talk about what you think it will be like. You lay together in bed at night picking out names and praying over your baby. You start networking with other couples adopting and start attending support groups. Months go by and you see some of those new friends posting pictures of their babies on Facebook and Instagram. They are talking about the wonder of adoption and how perfect and amazing it all is. You sit behind that computer and feel the tug of hurt that a birth momma has not picked you. A year rolls by and your hope starts to fade. You weep in grief once again, wondering if you really heard God’s call to adopt or if you were just trying to come up with a solution. You talk about it with your spouse but they don’t know how to express their confusion and grief over this newest hurt either. Sometimes you pray about it together and sometimes you hurt alone, afraid to talk about it, so that you won’t bring up the pain to your mate and make them hurt too. The agency calls and says it is time to do an annual update to the home-study. You go through the motions and it renews the hope for a while longer but the months keep rolling by and you realize that you can no longer wait to go on vacation. You can’t save up that vacation time for a maternity leave that may never happen. People stop asking how the adoption process is going. People that do remember and ask bring up the hurt all over again. You are grateful they care but you feel the isolation creeping in.

For us, we did have that one child and were content. Or at least that is what we kept telling ourselves. We did long for a child God whispered on our hearts. We did lie in bed, praying together, questioning God and grieving the loss of a child we had never held. From start to finish, it was 4 long years of waiting, 3 years of officially being on a list. Those years were isolating as it felt as though God said do this and then snatched that dream back. God was there, he was quietly putting together our family of 4 in a way we never dreamed and during that time, he softened our hearts towards an adoption we would have said no to in the beginning.

That wait is painful my friends but there is purpose in it. That purpose for us is in the form of the cutest, funniest, high maintenance, little brown boy you have ever seen. Our nights are different now and we still grieve, just for a different reason. We grieve for the broken story that brought our family to completion. We pray over his heart and the hearts of his birth parents. The birth parents that were brave enough to let go when they realized he needed more. We grieve for the hard that is sure to come, in the future as he grows and realizes his story is different. We grieve for the hard moments for our birth parents as they face the reality of signing those papers.
We celebrate too…we celebrate the first time he prayed, the first time he asked to read his Bible for bedtime routine. We celebrated the first birthday with a huge family party and a cake the size of Texas. Our hearts smiled the first time he told us he loved us and called us mommy, daddy and sister. We celebrate what God did to make us a family.
So…if you see that precious couple posting pictures and announcements on social media about their dreams of adoption, please pray for them. Many have grieved deeply to even be ready for this moment and they have more grief to come. Even those that have a picture perfect baby placed in their arms, will face years of grief and hard in the future as they walk their child through their broken and beautiful story!

Behind The Perfectly Painted Door...

There are nights Brian and I lie in bed with a cute little boy snuggled between us and we are stunned. It has been 3 long, exhausting months. As hard as the days and nights are, they are easy compared to the wait to get here. As much as we trusted God when we paid fees, filled out paperwork, went through the process of interviews and updates year after year, we are still stunned. We never expected this…this precious little boy that has filled our hearts and broken them at the same time.

You have seen the pictures on social media. The pictures of couples with chalk boards, balloons, and baby shoes, declaring their intention to adopt. They are sentimental and they get us all feely and cheered up about someone doing something good in this world. You see them raising money and blasting their excitement all over the place. You may even see some of them preparing baby rooms and making plans. Slowly you hear about it less and less and then it just gets quiet. Let me tell you what is happening behind their perfectly painted door…they are grieving. Many of them have gone through years of infertility that walked them down a long path of dying to a dream.

You see, one day they got married, had the perfect wedding, waited the appropriate amount of time and then started trying to have that baby everyone was always asking about. They realized it was taking too long so they changed the way they ate, they tried all these holistic methods, they went to doctors but the reality is… God’s plans are not our plans. Sometimes He says no to our dreams. Sometimes he directs our path differently than we expected. Everyone asking them about when they are going to start that perfect little family just makes it hurt all over again. Then one day, that same sweet couple, after walking through the hard of that grief, hear God calling them to adopt. It seems like the perfect solution and they would be affecting the life of a child who might never know of our heavenly Father otherwise. They get all excited about the possibilities, they go to meetings with agencies, they make plans, they pay fees and they fill out paperwork. They fill out more paperwork then you can possibly imagine! They may even write a letter to that sweet birth momma they have started praying over and then they go home and wait…

At first the wait is fun. You make plans, you talk about what you think it will be like. You lay together in bed at night picking out names and praying over your baby. You start networking with other couples adopting and start attending support groups. Months go by and you see some of those new friends posting pictures of their babies on Facebook and Instagram. They are talking about the wonder of adoption and how perfect and amazing it all is. You sit behind that computer and feel the tug of hurt that a birth momma has not picked you. A year rolls by and your hope starts to fade. You weep in grief once again, wondering if you really heard God’s call to adopt or if you were just trying to come up with a solution. You talk about it with your spouse but they don’t know how to express their confusion and grief over this newest hurt either. Sometimes you pray about it together and sometimes you hurt alone, afraid to talk about it, so that you won’t bring up the pain to your mate and make them hurt too. The agency calls and says it is time to do an annual update to the home-study. You go through the motions and it renews the hope for a while longer but the months keep rolling by and you realize that you can no longer wait to go on vacation. You can’t save up that vacation time for a maternity leave that may never happen. People stop asking how the adoption process is going. People that do remember and ask bring up the hurt all over again. You are grateful they care but you feel the isolation creeping in.

For us, we did have that one child and were content. Or at least that is what we kept telling ourselves. We did long for a child God whispered on our hearts. We did lie in bed, praying together, questioning God and grieving the loss of a child we had never held. From start to finish, it was 4 long years of waiting, 3 years of officially being on a list. Those years were isolating as it felt as though God said do this and then snatched that dream back. God was there, he was quietly putting together our family of 4 in a way we never dreamed and during that time, he softened our hearts towards an adoption we would have said no to in the beginning.

That wait is painful my friends but there is purpose in it. That purpose for us is in the form of the cutest, funniest, high maintenance, little brown boy you have ever seen. Our nights are different now and we still grieve, just for a different reason. We grieve for the broken story that brought our family to completion. We pray over his heart and the hearts of his birth parents. The birth parents that were brave enough to let go when they realized he needed more. We grieve for the hard that is sure to come, in the future as he grows and realizes his story is different. We grieve for the hard moments for our birth parents as they face the reality of signing those papers.
We celebrate too…we celebrate the first time he prayed, the first time he asked to read his Bible for bedtime routine. We celebrated the first birthday with a huge family party and a cake the size of Texas. Our hearts smiled the first time he told us he loved us and called us mommy, daddy and sister. We celebrate what God did to make us a family.
So…if you see that precious couple posting pictures and announcements on social media about their dreams of adoption, please pray for them. Many have grieved deeply to even be ready for this moment and they have more grief to come. Even those that have a picture perfect baby placed in their arms, will face years of grief and hard in the future as they walk their child through their broken and beautiful story!

From Butterflies to Gum on Our Shoe...

Let’s talk marriage for a moment…sometimes it sails along and is all butterflies and champagne. Then there is the other 98% of the year (and I am being generous here) that is aching backs with gum stuck to our shoes. Now I love my husband and he is absolutely the perfect mate for me but sometimes we just forget to be gracious to each other. In the mornings, clothes are flying from one end of the house to the other, the kitchen counter is lined with lunch boxes, momma is singing out words of encouragement while daddy is wiping tooth paste from faces and hunting for lost shoes. Everyone races to the door yelling out love for one another amongst hugs, kisses and prayers. Momma and daddy text each other letting each one know that the children are safe in their respective places and then we walk into work all smiles. Each spouse going about their days, being kind and gracious to the loud talker in the neighboring cube, facing hectic meetings, full of stress with much grace. We arrive home and show as much patience as we can muster to our dear children that are exhausted and just don’t want to write that last sentence of homework or eat that last bite of dinner. Seriously, can we get through one dinner without one child not sitting stone faced or with tears and snot running down their faces? With quiet gentleness, or quiet rage as they drag out bedtime for 45 minutes, we cuddle the kids, read to them, pray over them and then put them to bed. Each spouse stumbles to the couch in stained up clothes, hair all askew and collapses, looks at one another and grabs their phone to decompress from the chaos of the day. I am not sure about you but at this point, I am just punchy. I am done being nice and no matter the question; I can meet it with the perfect eye roll and whine. This is my cut off for please and thank you. It is just, “Give me and…you should.”

At the time of the day when I have my Love all to myself for the first time in 24 hours and I cannot muster the energy to validate him and my need for him. In reality, it is not that I can’t, it is just that this would require me to keep extending grace, and to not be selfish. For me, I have found that being intentional to love my spouse does not start at the end of the day, when the kids are in bed and I am curled in the corner of the couch wearing layers of clothing, a blanket and am prepared with, “I need to get up and wash the dishes piled in the sink.” If he dares to inch to my side of the couch. It starts at the beginning of the day, sometimes even the night before as I am lying in bed and confessing my selfishness to Jesus. It is an intentional approach to plan my day with my spouse’s needs in mind. If you will, I mentally pencil time for my spouse on my calendar and follow through. It is an email in the morning, reminding him that I am thinking of him and that he is important to me. It is a text at lunch to ask him how his day is going. It is me, planning that when the last kid is asleep, I will set my phone down, turn to my husband and talk to him. Love him and let him know that he is not leftovers. Sometimes it is even coming home, going to the bedroom, closing the door and pretending that the tiny little fists on the other side don’t exist as I focus on my husband.

My husband chooses me each and every day and I need to do the same. Does he get that I need space some nights and to just veg on the couch, that my introvert self is completely drained of peopley moments some times? Trust me… he gets it. BUT he also needs to know that I find him valuable. That at the start, during, and at the end of each gum on the bottom of the shoe day, I WANT him in my life. That I want to hear of his heart and also share mine.

Here is the kicker; over 12 years ago I was skipping down the aisle of some church, radiant in a gown of white, declaring my covenant commitment to this man. I was all clean and pretty, had less fat and more makeup. He was all attentive and failing over himself to meet my every need. Then we came home from the honeymoon to discover that life was full of football (seriously, we had a whirlwind courtship in the off season and I had no idea of the level of football that was about to invade my life), a baby, job losses, medical crisis’s, moving furniture from house to house, bills, an adoption, etc. This does not mean that I get to tell my husband that I will get back to him when all the hard stuff is over. This means that I have to daily choose him, just as he chooses me. It means that I read less books and watch less TV because I promised God to love this man and serve him all my days. I forget sometimes and my husband quietly, sometimes patiently waits for me to be reminded that he is important. Some days it is sweet love notes left in each other’s car and same days it means laughing at each other as we scrape the gum off the bottom of each other’s shoe.

For a lifetime I have him and I want to be faithful to appreciate that daily commitment my husband makes to me. I do not always do this well but I try to acknowledge to him that I am aware of his need for time and let him know that I will make the time. Maybe not in that moment, and maybe not even that day but I SEE you Love. I see you through the tired, puffy eyes. I know that you washed those clothes and cleaned that toilet because you were showing me love. So I will change my comfortable old shirt covered in paint, grease stains and laden with holes…I will put on some lip gloss and meet you on the couch for a soul sharing time. We will sacrifice a little sleep and be gracious with our words for a little longer tonight because marriage is important.

Middle School...UGH!

Parenting is hard. Navigating middle school with a hormone enraged tween is exhausting. Watching that tween struggle to find her footing is heart-breaking. Being gut wrenching honest here…I have been dreading middle school. I knew what was coming and I hate seeing my confident child morph into an insecure, weeping mess. Couple that with the insecurity she feels in her role at home, as being the only child, to now navigating through life with less attention and battling a little brother that cannot express his frustration in an always positive way means that we usually have tears at some point each and every day. As parents, we do not always respond the right way. There are days that I want to just look across the table at her, as she is pouting over the injustice that is her life and I want to say, “Baby girl, I’m gonna need you to suck it up and move on.” And there are times that I do just that. There are the times she storms through the house, slamming a door and shouting from the other side demands from the two of us, while I continue sitting at the dinner table, rolling my eyes and silently begging my husband to deal with today’s drama. There are the times I have had enough of being her emotional punching bag and yell back that I am tired too and she needs to get over it. My husband, being male, does not always understand that the tears are not just linked to what is happening in that moment but stretches back to the moment earlier in the day when she was late to class because she got her schedule mixed up (being Type A, this is the same as failing a test and having it blasted over the loud speaker at school). There are her ears being assaulted daily by curse words she is not used to hearing out of peers mouths. There are the issues of finding the right place to sit at lunch where she will not be ridiculed but accepted. There is navigating the exploratory classes and finding the right place that fits her personality and drive. There is dealing with boys that find her attractive but instead of treating her with respect, tease and humiliate her in front of her peers. Seriously, why do they think is the way to winning a girl’s attention?!

I just wanna wrap her up in bubble wrap, lock the door and protect her from all that is messed up in the middle school across the street. BUT the reality is, this is what we have spent the last 11 years preparing her for. We prayed over her each night and day, we taught her where her value lies, we taught her where her hope is found, we prepared her with truth to combat the lies she will hear each day and we taught her how to own her faith in a dark place. And each night we sit at the dinner table, walk through her day with her, comforting her, reminding her of truth, answering her questions and sometimes apologizing for not being sensitive to her needs, and speaking to her anger. Usually Brian reminds her that middle school boys are just stupid and will be this way until at least high school. LOL This is exhausting and it would be easy to just let her learn to deal with life on her own but it is our job as her parents, to help her weed out the lies and truth in each of her days.

One of the first things Anna Beth told me when she came home from orientation at her school was, “Momma, we are going to be studying all of the religions of the world and evolution this year, oh and I have health class too.” My heart sank…I knew it was coming. I knew she was going to face this at some point but my heart screamed in that moment, “Have we given her enough to face this and see the truth?” I just looked her in the eyes and said, “Baby girl, you are going to hear a whole lot of lies this year with just a sprinkling of truth. If you are ever unsure of what the truth is, Daddy and I are here to answer your questions and if we don’t know, we will research it together.” This is all I can do, I can hold her with open hands, trusting that God will protect her heart. God wants her where she is and there is a purpose in this testing of her faith. Middle school is where she learns to own her faith. Not her mommy and daddy’s faith, not her LG leader and Children’s pastor’s faith but this is where she puts tests out her faith, puts it into action, and calls it her own.

Last Friday there was a middle school dance. She asked to go…we relented. Were we right for doing this? I still don’t know. Again, God did not ask me to protect her from the world but to prepare her to be a light in it. She dressed up and I dropped her off at the curb. I watched her walk through those doors with boys almost twice her size and I just prayed over her as I drove home. At 8 pm sharp, momma was sitting at the curb, waiting for pick-up. I took her out to grab a bite after the dance and listened to her talk. She talked about how dark it was, she talked about the songs littered with cruse words, she talked about the behavior of the students. I waited to hear her heart on what she had witnessed. She told me it was fun but not what she expected. She quickly found some girls that also go to church and stood to the side watching. She was shocked at the DJ’s choices and conveyed her displeasure over the lyrics. She told me of the kids trying to get others attention and then she told me of friends choices.
This is what I know… I am here, to be actively involved. To listen closely (this is a VERY important skill at this point), pray often and offer truth when she is open to hearing it. I am here to guide and then protect when needed. My role as her parent is changing. It is not my job to dictate each of her steps any longer but to live out my faith in front of her, to gently remind her that she is an example of Christ and to not blemish His character. On the flip side, God is a redeemer and loves his children unconditionally. It is important that my child knows I will listen to her, she knows this without a doubt because I did it from a very young age. I LISTENED to her, even the stuff that seemed silly and unimportant because I wanted her to be able to trust that I would listen to her during these hard days. These days when she would need me more than ever, even though it appears she needs me less. She also knows that daddy will protect her, that he is paying attention and he values the young lady she is becoming. He continues to date her and show her how precious she is by his words and actions.

I still am dreading these middle school days but I have to hold fast to the truths. Her Father that created her, is intimately acquainted with her heart. He knows each time she will fail and He will be there with waiting arms for her to run into them. He prepared Brian and I to be the parents she needed. Not perfect, but able to model God’s grace in and through our imperfections as parents. Our job as her parents is not over because she has become more independent but rather it is needed in a different way. A safe place for her to admit her failings and to be loved through them and help her to know they are filtered through grace. I am so grateful God entrusted me with this sweet girl and Lord knows I feel completely incapable to help her navigate the ugly of this world. Yes, I am the parent of a middle schooler. Yes these years are awkward and people no longer fawn over the cuteness that is my child but she is not invisible. She is not unseen and in fact she is cherished by the one that created her and the ones that were entrusted with her care. She is an obnoxious, weepy, hot mess many days but she is also a delight, created for a special purpose. She does not have to wait and grow up to fulfill that purpose but she has one even now. Each day she lives for Jesus, she is serving God’s purpose and that middle school across the street, that is filled with darkness has a little light walking around in it.

A Girl Suffering Well…

So much of what we have shared over the last 3 months has surrounded Adi but the heart of my sweet girl has not gone unnoticed. A dear friend and her husband came over to have lunch with us yesterday. She quietly watched Adi and his interaction with Anna Beth. Before she left, she mentioned to AB the patience she showed towards her younger brother. I had tears in my eyes at just that one little comment. You see, my girl has suffered but she has suffered well. She has spent the last 11 years being an only child and the last 3 months have been all consuming, for all of us. Adi will not be silent or ignored and he is often aggressive when he cannot explain his frustration. He most often takes that aggression out on his sister. She shares her frustration with us when she needs to vent but she rarely takes it out on him. My girl recognizes that Adi cannot control his emotions as well as she and she suffers through it well.

This does not mean that my girl does not feel pushed aside. It does not mean that she does not feel the sting of adding a sibling. Brian and I work hard to find time for just her. Taking her alone to the store so she can talk, let loose and feel the full attention of her parent or having her big self climb in between us in the bed for snuggles after her brother has gone to bed. To be honest, I miss just having her in moments. I miss the extra time for Brian and I, the time of quiet with my girl. I have missed making a bigger deal for her about middle school but I also know that God is using this change in our family to develop character in all of us. Adi was created by God, held in HIS hand and gently placed in our family at just the right time. For all the painful growing that we are walking through, this was orchestrated by our Father and we would be foolish not to see him in each step of this adoption.

Our girl has watched God move, she knows that God prepared our family for this and her heart was ready. We as her parents, have tried to show grace as much as possible but let’s be honest, we are human. We get frustrated too. We don’t always acknowledge the hard for Anna Beth. Sometimes we expect more out of her than we should but I rest in this, “God has her!” At one of the hardest stages of her life, God sent her a brother. Not just any brother but a brother that has more needs than is typical. A brother that requires greater grace from her, and a deeper love and commitment. God will use this to shape her view of the broken, to show her His purpose for her life. He will use her brother to see beyond her own need and to fully live out a life of service. This is what I am praying over her heart.

This is not the first time that God called my girl to trust beyond what is typical for her age. At the start of her school career, God called our family to walk through the journey of cancer. God walked her through that VERY hard and I know that he is walking with her now. As I watch her love her brother I am reminded of a passage of verses…

“For it is commendable if someone bears up under the pain of unjust suffering because they are conscious of God. But how is it to your credit if you receive a beating for doing wrong and endure it? But if you suffer for the doing of good and endure it, it is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow his steps” I Peter 2:19-21

What I know is this…her longsuffering, her patient love and grace filled speech will someday prove out God’s love to Adi. Someday he will see how well she loved him and through that, he will see God’s love for himself. Through her quiet longsuffering, she is seeing God soften her brother’s heart. She is being witness to God’s power and if we, as her parents, point out God in her every day, she will learn to watch and be ready. She will learn to step forward when it is at the risk of condemnation but she will because she knows of the greater risk at stake.

Through this entire adoption, Brian and I have prayed. We have prayed that we would fulfill God’s purpose even when and if we did not understand it. That we would be willing to risk our hearts for a greater purpose. We also knew that we were and are not just risking our hearts but also Anna Beth’s. For that reason, she has been involved in each step of this adoption. She has sat through each call during those 10 months of waiting for a decision, she has been a part of each meeting and she has been witness to the hard of the birth parent relationships. I cannot begin to tell you of the burden she has carried at such a tender age but she understood the purpose. At 10 and then 11 years, she had an understanding of the call God had on our family. I am so proud of the gentleness she has displayed with not only Adi’s heart but also the birth parents during those hard conversations. So today I want to acknowledge the burden my girl carries at such a young age. She is special and also at the same time a very typical tween.

There are days I stand in utter awe at the special girl God has entrusted to our care. Brian and I know the responsibility we have to daily point her to Jesus. We are also aware how often we have and will fail to do this well but even in this my girl is witness to God’s grace poured out on us. It is easy to see Jesus in the day to day if we are only looking. This is something I struggle to do each day. I am grateful of the reminder I see in my children. If you see my girl out and about, I’m going ask our little village to pray for strength as she carries her brother’s story. She has suffered well and we are so very proud of her. J

Bringing Adi Home...

May 9th, 2016- it was the day after Mother’s Day. We had arrived in New Jersey, just outside New York City, the night before. What had started with an email back in October of 2015 was changing our family forever. The 3 of us arrived late at the adoption office, a little stressed at being late and was ushered back into the same room we had met our little boy, just weeks earlier. It was quiet and we were anxious. Just a little earlier, Adi’s birth parents had walked out of that same room, having just signed away all rights to their little boy. The little boy that would forever tie us together.

Our hearts were torn between excitement and grief for what had happened on that same couch just an hour earlier. The case worker went through the paper work with us. Counseled us on how to handle the grief we would soon encounter and we signed our names. From that moment on, we were committed to love a little boy whose world had just been ripped apart without his knowledge. The papers were so simple, so straightforward, but it could not begin to explain the complicated relationships that had just been tangled together.
A few deep breathes and we walked out the doors, climbed in our car and went to get something to eat. We found a Burger King. We did not care that we were eating crappy food. The 3 of us were just sitting there, completely stunned that we had just become a family of four. It seemed so unreal. We talked, we laughed and we shed a few tears as we imagined what the next couple of weeks would hold.

We drove back to our hotel and waited…It felt like hours for the birth parents to arrive with our little boy. We met them in the lobby and walked them up to our room. Birth father was carrying a back pack and birth momma was holding Adi’s little hand. I wanted to just grab him in a huge hug but he did not understand. He was being left behind with us as the only 2 people that had ever cared for him, walked back out that door. We talked for a bit and agreed to meet for dinner. Brian only had this one night and then he had to head back home but this was important too. We needed to listen to them, to hear their hearts, dreams and expectations.
Back at the hotel, a quick swim in the hotel pool and we finally were all snuggled on the bed together. Tears pooled in my eyes as I watched MY family…the one that God whispered on our hearts those 4 years ago, being lived out in front of my very eyes.

Brian headed home and Anna Beth and I begin the long days of sitting in the corners of the birth parent’s home. Watching hours of therapy, learning how Adi interacted with his world and each night Adi, Anna Beth and I went back to the hotel to swim, eat and sleep. It was hard. I sat at the side, being watched by therapists not understanding why I was there…they had not been told that Adi was now my child. They just thought I was invading their therapy space and time. Anna Beth was exhausted from being forced to sit quietly to the side. Each day we encountered the resentment of the birth parent’s as Adi went back to the hotel with us. They had chosen this but grief does not make sense. It cannot be reasoned and it is just hard to walk through. I was left to set boundaries as Brian counseled and prayed with me over text each day.

May 12th, 2016- Thursday was the hardest day at this point. Anna Beth and I took a break and went for a walk to the town square. We needed some space and Anna Beth needed some time to process her feelings. We sat and talked, ate some fresh mozerella sticks from the most amazing little Italian Pizzaria. At the end of that hard day, birth parents dropped us back off at the hotel after asking again to keep Adi with them. The battle to hold to boundaries was hard each day and I finally decided we all needed some space. After talking to Brian, I contacted birth momma that night and let her know that she could come by and pick Adi up for therapy on Friday morning but I was going to take Anna Beth on tour of the Statue of Liberty. It was the only thing that my sweet, patient girl had asked to do.

Friday morning was a breath of fresh air for us both. Adi drove away with birth momma to face his 8 hours of therapy and we mentally recharged. I will forever be grateful for the wisdom of taking that day. I was grateful that Brian pushed me to take that day off. It was cold and we had no warm clothes. We paid outrageous fees in cab rides, took lots of selfies and captured some precious memories. In the cab ride headed back to Port Authority, to catch our bus back to New Jersey, I realized that it was getting late and the hope of receiving that elusive phone call, letting us know we could go home was growing dim. I prayed and asked God for a miracle. I knew we could do another week of this but also knew it was getting hard. Anna Beth needed to get on the plane and head home for the last week of school and I was just emotionally, mentally, and spiritually exhausted. I had shed so many tears and carried the burden of birth parent’s grief all week. Moments later, my phone rang. It was our case worker in Tennessee. She simply said, “It is done and you are free to come home.” I could not stop the tears and called Brian right away. Next step…tell the birth parents that it was time to take Adi home.
We had planned for birth parents to come back with us. I agreed to let them keep Adi with them this one last night. They would meet us at the airport the next morning at 5:30 am. I hardly slept that night. My mind raced with the fear that they would just not show up at the airport. Anna Beth and I were loaded into the cab by 4:30 Saturday morning and immediately texted birth parents to check on them. They texted back that they were headed towards the airport as well. My heart raced until I saw my little man step on that plane with his birth parents. We were headed home! In just a few hours, I would be with my Love again and Adi would be home.

It was amazing to step off that plane, take my little boy’s hand and put him in his car seat. Birth parents showed grace and gave us a few hours of space. We were able to bring Adi home, to the room we had worked so hard on and start helping him transition to his new family. His first step into his new room and he could not stop smiling. He stared at his pictures on the walls, pulled out his toys and played Hungry Hippos (the first thing he did with us on the day we met) as I sat with tears pouring down my face. Our little boy was home! We knew that there was hard still to come. There would be deep grief as birth parents said their final good-byes BUT in this moment, I savored the amazing hand of God bringing a story to completion. A story that began with a small whisper in our hearts. Quiet talks in our bed at night, sharing our hearts, praying and crying over our desires together. Brian and I, saw God in the form of a 4 year old little boy and the miracle of his story.

What does grief look like at 4?

Many people have asked us how Adi is doing. We have been honest in our answer when we say, “He is doing really well.” This does not mean that grief does not exist. Adi spent four and a half years with his birth parents. He had a routine, he had familiar and he has been thrown into a whole new family, in a whole new state and is no longer an only child. Adding to that, Adi has autism therefore his responses are not always appropriate to the situation. This has been traumatic and yet for the most part, Adi is happy. He calls us mommy and daddy. He seeks us out, asks us to fulfill his needs, he allows us to comfort him, and he knows that this is home.

However, there are moments that Adi forgets that his name is now Wood, which is confusing. He gets upset and angry if we do not understand what he wants. He pushes and hits when he gets mad at being told, “No.” The hardest is at night. The grief and confusion is strongest at this time.
Since bringing Adi home, he has come to our bed after only a couple of hours of sleep. When he arrives at Brian’s side, he is visibly upset and must be up against one of us for the rest of the night. All night, he thrashes, whimpers and reaches out to touch our faces. This week, I decided it was time to tackle bedtime. Brian and I have traded off nights sleeping with him since we brought him home. We miss a good night’s sleep and Adi needs to develop a healthy sleeping pattern as well.
Anna Beth is at camp this week so I pulled the mattress off the top bunk (AB has been sleeping in Adi’s room so she could be close) and laid it on the floor beside his bed. Each night, he wakes, I am already there to calm him, lay next to him on the floor and reassure him that Mommy is not leaving. He will always lay back down and we repeat this several times a night.

Folks, this is the part that my heart breaks... My son will wake in a panic, from a dead sleep and start to cry. He has said, “Mommy, when we get done doing all these things, we can go back?” “Mommy, you still here?” “Mommy, tell me what I have to do so we can go back.”
I lay there on the floor and hold his hand till my arm goes numb. I weep and pray over his heart after he goes back to sleep. Each time he wakes, I tell him that I will not leave him. That I will be here every time he wakes. It crushes me to hear the fear in his voice BUT each time he wakes and I am there, I gain more of his trust. He calms faster and settles back down to sleep faster. He is spontaneously telling me that he loves me now. We are making baby steps towards healing.

I am struck with how inadequate I am to walk Adi through this. I see how selfish my heart is as I witness his grief. Many days I am weary and just want this child to stop touching my face every few seconds. But then I see those brown eyes full of uncertainty and I realize that this is what God has called me to do. Just love him…Let him see Jesus through my responses. Adi has no frame of reference to Jesus other than what we show him. It is mine and Brian’s responsibility to teach him grace. This is not something he has experienced in the past. This little guy is wrapping his fingers around my heart and teaching me how to love fully.

“Because the God who said, Out of darkness light shall shine, is the One who shined in our hearts to illuminate the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in earthen vessels that the excellency of the power may be of God and not out of us.”—2 Corinthians 4:6-7

Ashes and Joy

Three weeks from today, papers will be signed and we will be given the hand of a beautiful little boy. We are excited to see this prayer being answered but let me explain the prayer that we have prayed for the last 4 years...

Adoption is a result of a broken world. Adoption is not a child tied up in a pretty bow, delivered to your doorstep just because you asked God for a child. Our prayer has always been, "God if you can use us through adoption, we are willing to walk that path." That little boy that God is trusting us with, comes with a broken heart and story. He does not love us and understand that we are a safe place. That we will love him through the hurt, that we have been and will continue to pray for God to heal his heart.

We celebrate but we also grieve. There will be hard days ahead...days of tears, honesty and asking God to give us hope for the future. God is asking us, as a family, to show unconditional love to a little boy that will not understand that concept. We will teach him to pray to a God that he will not trust. There will be days that will feel as though we are sifting through ashes but God WILL BE THERE. He has written this family's story before we were formed. He has a purpose and we will find joy in those moments of clarity. We will find joy when we see peace in our son's eyes. He is a precious soul and we are excited to be a part of his story. We are excited to be trusted with his past and be a part of his future. We are also excited about those of you that God will use to influence his heart towards the Savior.

Many of you have prayed with us over the years that God would answer our prayers for this adoption...now we ask you to pray for the aftermath...the beauty in the ashes of adoption. Pray that we represent Jesus well in the face of the brokenness that is soon to come. There are 6 hearts deeply affected by the signatures on those papers 3 weeks from today. We will grieve the loss for our son, his birth parents and ourselves. We look forward to introducing him to you and to celebrating the answered prayers with you.

Love-

The Wood Family

My Heart Is Full...

March 7th, 2016....I was sitting at my desk, about to go to lunch and an email popped up on my phone. It was from the birth parents of the little boy we were trying to adopt. For 5 months we have been talking via, phone, Skpe and emails. Each of us sharing our hearts and desires for one little boy. In that moment, opening THAT email, my heart stopped. It was THE EMAIL. The one that told us they had chosen for us to raise their son...now our son. Seconds later my phone starting ringing...it was Brian, "Did you see it?" he asked. I could barely speak. In that moment, 4 years or waiting, hopes, dreams and grief unleashed and I began to sob at my desk. So much so that my boss came out of her office to check on me. We sat on the phone together, in tears as we tried to process what all this meant for us...for Anna Beth...for one special little boy.

Many of you have walked this long, long road with us and a few of you we have chosen to share our son's story. Every adoption story is different but it is also private. Someday it will be his story to share and we will support that but until then, we will keep it safe for him. We will be open and share as much of OUR story as we can while protecting his privacy.

This weekend is the first time that we have met face to face. We were on a tight timeline and drove 13 hours straight with only 3 short stops, averaging about 15 minutes each. We arrived with enough time to stop at the apartment we rented for the few days we are here and freshen up. We rushed to the agency's office and arrived right one time.

Our little family of 3 arrived first and we were guided back to the agency's parent room. A safe, comfy room full of soft chairs and couches. It was there that we first laid eyes on his sweet face. Anna Beth engaged him first and those 2 took to each other like they had kindred spirits. I slowly slid off the couch and to the floor, just wanting to be closer. Brian soon joined us on the floor where we played hungry hungry hippos and counted our marbles. It was hard to stop watching the miracle taking place in front of me and also engage with the other adults in the room.

Time stood still as Anna Beth and he moved to reading books. He walked over to me and sat right in my lap. I watched in awe at my two beautiful babies reading books together and tears poured down my face. I could not stop the ugly cry and everyone in the room understood my tears. Tissues were provided as I looked in my husbands eyes. He understood them, he had held me often in the past 4 years and had heard my desires. He shared them too. We had prayed for this moment together so many times. We had dreamed of what it would be and even still could not believe how beautiful and perfect it was.

14 This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. 15 And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him. -1 John 5:14-15


Our time here with our boy will be quick and we will soon leave him and head back to Nashville. We have many decisions that will need to be made quickly in the next couple of weeks and timelines for his transition to our home will be solidified but for now we are cherishing the random hugs, kisses and staring into his beautiful brown eyes. We will share his sweet face with you when he becomes fully ours but for now we ask that you pray. There are many emotions to be managed, many plans to be made, transitions to take place and hearts that will need healing. We believe in a VERY big God that is doing VERY big things in our family. We thank you for your patience with us as we figure this out and how to function as a family of four.