Today we got our court date!!!  Our first trip to Ethiopia will be in March.  God’s timing really is just so perfect.  Yesterday it hit me how much 2011 scares me.  THE UNKNOWN!!!  All these trips, going from one to two children, Elliott starts soccer and school and grows up all at once…so much.  Mostly the not knowing the TIMING of everything.  I really felt the panic welling up inside.  And then, just as I told God I CAN’T!!  HELP HELP!!!  He did.  Court date.  Now amidst all the unknown, we KNOW the dates of our first trip.  We KNOW when we’re meeting our daughter.  And yet again, we KNOW that we have a God who knows what we need and is the great Provider.  So grateful.

My dear friend Chantel suggested that we make a paper chain to count the days till we go.  This afternoon, Elliott and I made one:

I have a few random tidbits but nothing that could be a whole post, so here you go:

1. Fingerprints expire each year, so last week Alex and I got re-fingerprinted for immigration.  The FBI was unable to process my fingerprints, so I have to go back and get re-re-fingerprinted right after Christmas.  If it doesn’t work this time, I have to go through Fayette County, so please, please, please pray that it works!  Note for other adoptive parents in the process -  the NBC gave me some tips to try to get my fingerprints to scan more clearly:

• Wash your hands as little as possible for 3-4 days before the scan (Yummy…in the middle of flu season).
• Avoid hand sanitizer.
• Right before you go get fingerprinted, dip your hands in corn starch, which will help to bring out the ridge definition.

2. For my Adacar peeps, as of last week, the sale of the land for the CarePoint was supposed to be finalized yesterday.  I’ll post pics as soon as I get ‘em.  They’re scheduled to break ground for our kitchen/meeting facility in January.  Yay!

3. Deadline for the Uganda trip (July 2-13) is January 31.  Lemme know if you want to come and I’ll send you all the details.

4. Please pray for a court date for Christmas!!!!!!

What if you took child sponsorship to the next level?  What if you kicked it up a notch, jumped from letter writing to plane hopping, road bumping, child hugging?  What if you didn’t just write about the story – you entered it?  What if you embarked on a grand adventure to throw your arms around the boy in the photo on the fridge?  Here’s what it might look like.  (For the back story on Bosco, click HERE.)

Blah.  Surrender is following me around.  Apparently I’m so completely not in control of my life.  I seem to remember this fact…and yet I render surprise all over again when confronted with the need to surrender what already isn’t mine.  Ahem.  Yep.

1. I can’t control the when and how of getting ESD into our family where she belongs.

2. I can’t control the details of three trips to Africa in 4-5 months.

3. I can’t control who’s coming with me to Uganda in July (although I really wish I could, cuz there are some incredibly awesome people who I am BEGGING God to come on this trip).

4. I can’t control when Alex and I are going to Ethiopia…twice.

5. I can’t control the potential sponsors of my Adacar kids.

6. I can’t control the bonding process with my baby girl.

7. I can’t control the various fundraising efforts on my plate.

8. I can’t control the broken world around me.

Sigh.  My prayers are not artfully crafted.  This past year I’ve gone from bumbling prayers to wordy prayers to small prayers for big things.  Just God surrender.  God show up show me show Yourself show.  Lead me.  I surrender.  Help me to hear You.

The older and “wiser” I get, the more helpless I feel.  I know that’s a good thing.  I feel like Elliott as a tiny preemie, when I’d put him on his tummy and he couldn’t even lift his head.  He was completely at my mercy.  If he was facing a wall, he faced that wall until I turned his head.  He was floppy and completely incapable of doing anything but passively surrendering his life to me.  All he could do was cry.  Ah.  Yes.  That’s it.  He could cry.  That’s where I’m headed.  That’s where I’m getting, that place where I’m completely helpless and all I can do is cry to my Father to move me.  To come to my rescue.

These aren’t sad tears or bad tears or mopey tears.  These are tears of surrender.  They’re beautiful.  I hope - I pray - that over the next several months – some of the craziest months I’ve ever had, I think – I will learn the beauty of surrender.  I’m showing up.  I’m here.  Now I’m crying out to my Father to turn my head so that I’ll see what He wants me to see.