Thursday, May 24, 2012

I can breathe!!!!  I've realized, I can breathe!!!  Ted emailed this morning that Rossi's paperwork is in and he'll be scheduling our AIT interview in Taiwan.  I can breathe!  Did I mention that?  Praise God!!!

A narrative from this morning..

I've had great feelings this week.  Been praying each morning for my people on my list and had a nice peace about my personal request.  Jason felt it was this week.  Then Melinda texted and said it was.  Prayers have been exploding.  This morning.  I got out of the shower and went straight to Rossi's nursery crying, hit my knees, arms up, and pretty much begged God out loud for paperwork to come through. 

Got to my teacher meeting this morning.  I had to reorder mom and dad's James Taylor tickets because internet went down for a few, and it didn't take first time.  I talked with Ticketmaster.  He said, "I'll email your tickets to your AOL account now."  I hung up the phone, drinking my coffee, and prepared for New Standards and revising units.  My email dings, I go and check for my tickets.  It wasn't Ticketmaster, it was Ted from the orphanage.  He always leads in with scripture and I'm always hoping it is Proverbs 25:25 for good news because leading "An honest answer is like a kiss on the lips." has meant "nothing new" or even "bad news" is to follow.  It was Proverbs!!!!  It is all shady at this point.  I wanted to scream, maybe I did.  I got up.  Trying to focus.  Trying to breathe.  Trying to compose myself.  I just hit my knees right there.  I lost it.  Sweet mothering teachers/friends gathered.  One set off to find my mom in the other room.  Stacie heard me next door, scared, and came right to me.  I knee-wobbled over and squeezed her. I really felt out of my body.  I got up (finally) and had to call Jason.  Mom is there.  We lose it.  Renee is coming down the hall.  Lose it, again.  Kelly and I lose it.  I just can't tell you how many precious hugs and pats I got.  Who says you can't have church at school????

I had to get outside and call Jason.  We cried and squealed.  It was just unreal.  I called Ashley.  Neither of us could talk.  She answered with squeaks, grunts and sounds and I replied with squeaks and grunts.  (Mom had already called her.  Ash and I just now talked again and laughed because I said we sounded like Ewoks communicating.  But, we communicated.  I guess only sisters can do that.)

I sat outside on a bench for a bit to text quickly.  I go to the restroom to check face.  Makeup is everywhere.  I clean myself up.  Hug mom again and again and join my meeting...in body.  My mind is racing.

Kelly had Rossi cakes brought for our lunch.  It was just awesome.  I got awesome Facebook messages, texts, and prayers.  Jason texted, "What time will you be home?  I'm ready to hug momma."  So, he just walked in.  I'm in Rossi's nursery in my rocking chair.  Our brains are tired and we both have headaches.  We are so overwhelmed and grateful.  We are ecstatic!!! I think we're going to make a pallet in the floor in Rossi Q's room and take a nap (or try to to get rid of these headaches).  I've read Ted's life-changing email over and over.  We replied that we'll see if he can get our AIT scheduled and learn some dates.  If it is going to be awhile, I'll fly on over alone and stay in orphanage.  We had talked about this to Ted/Bev in February.  Ted was smart and said to hold tight until we get 100% for sure. TODAY,  his last sentence said, "If Tara wants to come on, she can."  So Proverbs 25:25 is right.  "Like cold water to a weary soul is good news from a distant land."  Glory to God!!!  We are truly thankful.


Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Ok. Vented a little this morning.  (See below.)  I guess I'm giving Jason a break by doing it on here.;)  Speaking of Jason.  Have I told you how grateful I am for him?  I love him with my entire heart.  We've been married 13 years this summer and I still can't get close enough to him.  We both took days off yesterday.  We soooo needed it.  Got out of bed late, coffee, cooked breakfast together, gathered with friends, etc. etc.  We talked more than once about how thankful we are for all we have.  So many strive for a marriage like ours.  We have wonderful, nice paying jobs.  We have healthy families.  We have the best of friends.  I know I gripe about this Rossi process.  I get down.  I'm back up.  Back down.  Mad.  Happy.  Sad.  Scared.  Excited.  Although gripped onto this handlebar of adoption, I'm so thankful for all I have.

Perfectly Said

"Oh my, I can speak to this. First, forget whatever timeline you were given at the beginning. Forget you ever heard that. Put that in the trash can. Adoption will change, shift, slow down, hit snags, be weird, be difficult, take longer than you think, take longer that you can stand. This will happen. This is the normal thing. When someone gives you a timeline, say, "Thank you for that cute little sentence. Flush." Potential adopters, let me tell you this: Get your "YES" straight at the very beginning. Decide on it. Roll around in it. Put it on the table and shellack it. Because you cannot let every delay and snag derail your certainty about adoption. When you say YES, you are saying YES to enter the suffering of the orphan, and that suffering includes WAITING FOR YOU TO GET TO THEM. I promise you, their suffering is worse than yours. We say YES to the tears, YES to the longing, YES to the maddening process, YES to the money, YES to hope, YES to the screaming frustration of it all, YES to going the distance through every unforeseen discouragement and delay. Do not imagine that something outside of "your perfect plan" means you heard God wrong. There is NO perfect adoption. EVERY adoption has snags. We Americans invented the "show me a sign" or "this is a sign" or "this must mean God is closing a door" or "God must not be in this because it is hard," but all that is garbage. You know what's hard? Being an orphan. They need us to be champions and heroes for them, fighting like hell to get them home. So we will. We may cry and rage and scream and wail in the process, but get them home we will."

 

Woke up before 4 (as usual), checked my email first thing (as usual), and got frustrated this morning.  Sometimes, I get sad and cry.  Sometimes, I'm OK and think "tomorrow".  Sometimes, I'm numb and get on my knees.  Today, I'm frustrated. Thanks for the following Lori Cobb. 

There are women who become mothers without effort,
without thought,
without patience or loss,
and though they are good mothers and love their children,
I know that I will be better.

I will be better not because of genetics or money or because I have read more books,
but because I have struggled and toiled for this child.

I have longed and waited.
... I have cried and prayed.
I have endured and planned over and over again.

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.

I will notice everything about my child.
I will take time to watch my child sleep,
explore,
and discover.
I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold, and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream.
My dream will be crying for me.

I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child.

Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend, and sister because I have known pain.

I know disillusionment, as I have been betrayed by my own body. I have been tried by fire and hell that many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.

I have prevailed.
I have succeeded.
I have won.

So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.
I listen.
And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely.

I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth when life is beyond hard.

I have learned a compassion that only comes by walking in those shoes. I have learned to appreciate life.

Yes, I will be a wonderful mother.