It was May 6^th, just over two weeks after we had found out that our dreams of adoption had been nothing but a delusion.  We had been deceived. Defrauded. We had spent thousands of dollars to bring two sweet babies home.

Only those babies had never existed.

The “birth mother” was never even pregnant.

It was all a part of a deceptive scheme to rob of us not only our money, but of our pride.

We were humiliated that we had been taken advantage of, even as we were trying to help others in need. We had fallen hook, line, and sinker.

Along with the humiliation and loss of money came an incredible sense of guilt. So many people – hundreds of people – had supported us, prayed for us, and given us some of the most fabulous baby gifts known to mankind. Our church, where the “birth mother” had found us, had prayed for her in the main Sunday service for weeks on end, as they do for all expectant mothers. We had arranged for time off, asked other people to assume our responsibilities during maternity leave, and had been the recipients of one of our church’s biggest baby showers in its history.

And all of it was based on a lie.

It was a lie that we certainly believed wholeheartedly ourselves, but I was pierced with guilt for garnering the support of so many people who loved us, and the twins— the babies who never even existed.

The guilt weighed on my heart nearly as much as the grief of the loss. How could I ever go back to church and face the people who had been a victim of a scheme that we brought them into? How would they ever forgive us for our role in the deception that robbed so many?

On the evening of May 6^th, my husband Ken and I snuck into the back of our church’s sanctuary for a homeschooler’s production of Peter Pan just after it had begun. Many of our church’s middle schoolers played several different roles with fun and flair. For a while, I escaped our painful reality and laughed at the antics of some of my favorite kids. They did a fabulous job of not only acting and singing, but of ushering me out of the darkness that had surrounded my heart. Escaping the reality of our grief and guilt was refreshing – even if it was only for an hour.

I managed to return to church that Sunday, thanks to some very gracious friends who walked me through the church halls to make sure that I wouldn’t have to talk about my grief with passersby. The emotions were still too raw to engage in any discussion about the events of the previous two weeks.

Finally, after the last service was over, and Ken and I stood at the front of the sanctuary talking with others, two homeschoolers, Lydia and Kailey, approached us.

“We took up a love offering for adoption at our Peter Pan play,” Lydia said, “and this is for you – for your adoption.” She handed me a ziplock bag of dollar bills and change.

I was stunned.

And then I burst into tears. I hugged both of their necks, as I’m sure they stood there confused by why I was crying, but I had no words to explain.

Rather than asking for our shower gifts back, or pretending the defrauding of all of our hearts didn’t happen, the children and their leaders had taken up an offering for us.

The money was so greatly appreciated, but the sentiment behind it was so much more: it was a gift reminding us that we have a future in adoption, that we were loved, and that we were forgiven for what we unknowingly took part in.
 
Later on as we were driving home, Ken remarked, “It was like Lydia handed us a bag of Grace.” We don’t deserve such love, such forgiveness, such sacrifice. Really, none of us do.

That’s what grace is all about.
 
I’m so thankful for the “bag of Grace” that we were given that day. It was unmerited kindness from those who owed us nothing, had already been generous, and yet chose to give more. I knew that day that our adoption story was not over, but that God was continuing, and still is continuing, to write a new chapter in our lives.

A chapter that started with a Bag of Grace.

A guest post by Ken

Growing up I took seven years of French classes. SEVEN Years! And I’m pretty sure EVERY DAY I said to myself, “This is so stupid! When will I ever need to know French?!”

Now I know: “When I adopt two children, in Africa, who speak French.”

Stupid. Stupid! STUPID! Why didn’t I pay better attention to Madame Tweedie?! (Yes, that really was her name. You can imagine the Looney Tune cartoons running through my mind during class. It’s no wonder I never learned the language.)

Now I am trying to revive a (dead-to-me) languauge. Never have I prayed harder for the gift of tongues.

It’s not as easy as it once was.

No more French classes.

No French channel. Although now I have Telemundo – Nashville.

No bilingual cereal boxes announcing their prizes. “On peut gagner!” [You can win!]

Even the stop signs in Tennessee are monolingual.

However, this time I have motivation! There’s a reason for butchering a language. Stumbling over verb tenses. Fumbling for correct prepositions.

There are two angels in the Democratic Republic of Congo who need to hear me say:

My name is Ken. What is your name? [Je m’appelle Ken. Quel est votre nom?]

Can I be your father? [Puis-je être votre père?]

I love you. [Je t’aime.]

Would you like to come live with us in America? [Aimeriez-vous de venir vivre avec nous en Amérique?]

I promise to protect you, feed you, and read to you every night… in French. [Je promets de vous protéger, vous nourrir et de vous lire tous les soirs… en français.]

In the end, I know that love covers over a multitude of translation errors. I know that the message will get through even if I sound like a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

And most of all, I am sure that Robin and I are adopting two children who just want to hear the words “We love you and we want to take you home.”

In any language.

And I can’t wait to say those words.

 

We met with a social worker this week who will be writing our home study. You can imagine how difficult it was to try to sum up the events of the last nine months, and not sound completely crazy. Fortunately, she shares our love for God and knows of His love for adoption. She also validated many of the emotions and concerns we had as we begin a new chapter in adoption. In short, she is fabulous.

We will not have to start from scratch — we’ll just have to do an update of our  home study. Unfortunately for us, that really means starting over. All of the autobiographies, essays on adoption, income statements, budgets, marriage surveys questions, physical exams and blood work, letters from employers, criminal background checks, tax information, birth certificates, marriage license, and on and on and on have to be put together again.

Sigh.

Didn’t we just do this 8 months ago?

But when I think of those sweet little faces on the other side of the world, what would I not do for them? So I’m stretching my writing muscles, and dusting off the filing cabinet.

We’re going to power through and complete all of it before our next meeting with our social worker, if possible. We meet with her next Wednesday at noon.

Wish us luck!

The shortened timeline for Democratic Republic of Congo is in many ways a blessing. Our kids get to come home sooner. They’ll spend less time in an orphange. We’ll fulfill our dreams sooner — perhaps even years sooner than if we would have chosen another country.

The ONLY downside of a faster timeline is the fundraising. Raising $28,000 over the course of three years is no huge challenge. Raising $28,000 over the course of 6 months is a bit more daunting. We would hate for any step, but especially the final step, to be held up because we couldn’t afford to move forward. In fact, $20,000 of the $28,000 is due near or at the end of the process — not that the process is very lengthy to begin with. 

We’ve considered many different options, from refinancing our house (not an option since the housing market downturn) to me going back into clinical practice (except that I feel called to my current job). We’ve stopped buying groceries, except for perishables like dairy and produce, and have been eating out of our grocery stockpile. We’ve tried to pick up some extra work projects here and there as well.

We’ve come to the realization that we can’t raise all of the money on our own.

But God can.

And we wholeheartedly believe that God is in charge of financing our adoption — we just need to be obedient to what He asks us to do. We are prayerfully considering what steps to take, and have sensed God’s leading in a couple of different areas, which we’ll be talking about over time.

The first fundraiser is a bit of a puzzle: literally! We want our kids to know that bringing them home was like fitting together lots of pieces of a puzzle — lots of wonderful people have invested in our family to bring us together.

We have two 300-piece puzzles, one of each of the children’s faces, and a frame with a mat to surround the puzzle. We would ask that you would consider sponsoring a puzzle piece for any amount ($10-$20 suggested). When a piece is sponsored, we’ll place it in the puzzle, and add your name to the mat surrounding the puzzle. When the puzzle is finished, we will frame the original pictures, and hang them in the children’s rooms. That way, every day we all will have the opportunity to see the hundreds of individuals, families, and groups who loved our family and helped to bring them home.

You can sponsor a piece by donating through our ChipIn account (see Interested in Donating link to the right), or by buying coffee at our Just Love Coffee store. There is even a fundrazr application on Facebook you can donate through. Or hand us a check or cash. We’re not picky. There will be more upcoming opportunities as well.

Most of all, we would ask for your prayers, and ask you to consider how you might help us piece together all the details of finding and bringing our children home.

There are an estimated 163 million orphans in the world. Will you help make that number a little smaller?

__________________________________________________________

Update: Since losing our referral at the end of July, you may be wondering what is becoming of the puzzle project. The puzzles we purchased can actually have their images changed. So the puzzle pieces already chosen will still be a part of the new puzzle, but may be placed in a slightly different area of the puzzle.

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Tonight I was amazed once again by how much I love our church, and how much our church loves us.

The Cater family in our church organized a fundraising potluck for our adoption tonight. Diane Cater has been an amazing blessing to us in so many ways, but especially in encouraging us in adoption. Being an adoptive parent herself, she understands the struggles and joys that we’ve had, and has believed in adoption for us when we’ve doubted adooption ourselves.

Dozens and dozens of people gathered for a great time this evening in the Cater home. There was plenty of food, fun, and fireworks. And then some more fireworks. We may not regain our hearing for a few days, but it was well worth it!

I’m so thankful for a church family who believes in us, sometimes even more than we believe in ourselves. Thanks to everyone who made this Independence Day one we’ll always remember!

Of course we indicated our interest in two of the children whose pictures we were sent. There was one couple who was ahead of us in consideration for them, but soon we were at the top of the list. Does that mean that they are guaranteed to be ours? No, but we’re hopeful. We’re trying to complete our paperwork as quickly as possible to make sure no one else is paper-ready before we are.

So what does the future hold from here?

So far, we have completed our application, paid our initial program fees, and have been accepted into the Democratic Republic of Congo Program.

• Next, we have to redo our homestudy. Because our original homestudy was done for domestic adoption through the foster care system, there are a few adjustments that need to be made. That requires meeting with Catholic Charities three separate times. Our first meeting is this week.
• Once our homestudy is complete, we apply to the Department of Homeland Security for Advance Processing. We will await an appointment letter for fingerprinting and await pre-approval for immigration.
• Then we send our home study, criminal background checks, physician clearances, and a half dozen other things to the Congolese authorities as a Dossier.
• Then we wait for our official referral for children. There should be no wait time once the paperwork is processed, if all goes as expected, because we have identified waiting children that we are ready to accept. We’ll likely receive more detailed information on them at that time. For now, we don’t know much.
• Following that, we will be scheduled for local court, which can take 2-4 months. If we receive approval, there is a 30 day appeal period before our case is referred to the Ministry.
• At that point, we file to have the children classified as immediate relatives with the Department of Homeland Security. Approval takes 1-3 months.
• We then file paperwork for the embassy in the Congo to process visas for the children. This process takes approximately 2 months.
• We then obtain a letter from Congolese Emigration for the children to leave the country.
• Finally, we travel to the Democratic Republic of Congo to get the children. The trip will last approximately 7-14 days.

What does all of that add up to? Probably a 6-12 month process.

Because the program in the Democratic Republic of Congo is new, and is becoming more popular, timelines may increase. The very nature of adopting in a country that is not Hague accredited is unpredictable. So far, all adoptions through our agency have been processed in less than a year — and that includes families who have had to wait to receive a referral. We hopeful that ours might be a bit shorter because we’re ahead of the game with our home study being near completion already, and the fact that we are going to accept older children.  The faster we can complete our paperwork, the faster we will be able to bring them home.

But there is one other not-so-small issue: cost. $28,000 that we don’t have.

 

A Guest Post by Ken

When Robin asked me if I wanted to see the picture of the two children from the orphanage in the Congo, I thought, “Sure. Why not? What’s the big deal?” It was just a couple of photos. I was interested. Curious even. Who wouldn’t be?

But when I opened the photos, the experience was unexpected. I looked at the two of them and the only way to describe the feeling was one of recognition. Obviously I had never seen them before, but the overwhelming sense was, “Well that’s what my children look like.”

It was like déjà vu.

The children I had been praying for and dreaming about finally had faces.

Beautiful faces.

No smiles. Not yet. But beautiful faces none the less.

To say that they were precious or beautiful to behold is a ridiculous understatement. With the first photo they have stolen my heart. I don’t know how many days it will be until I meet them and hold them in my arms, but now I know who has captured my heart. I wonder who is tucking them in to bed tonight. I pray that they know that there is a couple who are desperate to be with them. To hold them and to promise them they will never be alone again.

It was one thing when Robin and I were discussing sometime in the future adopting some random child or children from among the masses of hurting and helpless orphans in a far off land.

But now, as Robin put it, “OUR CHILDREN are in an orphanage in Africa WAITING for us.”

They are no longer annonymous.

They have faces.

And now they have parents who love them.

Miss them.

And can’t wait to bring them home.