After about two years of trying to make a baby, our sex life consisted of charts and days and times and pee sticks and so much pressure that our time as husband and wife felt like a graveyard of buried dreams.  Oh, I forgot one for my list from Part 2: “Well at least it’s fun trying!”  Oh absolutely.  We are swinging from the chandeliers with wild abandon over here!  We’re not at all cowering with fear that our stuff doesn’t work.  No, this whole thing feels like a second honeymoon.

We started seeking the Lord about whether we should keep soldiering on, you know, relaaaaaxx, or go to the doctor and start poking around.  One night around 2am, He answered us with my waking up with severe pain near my right ovary.  I went to the doctor, who sent me to the ER, and all of a sudden after years of carefully selecting female gynos to handle that region, I had male ER docs down there and I catapulted into the land of medical intervention, where there is no privacy and everything is cold and gooey.  We were thinking apendicitis when I went in, but once they ruled that out, they sent me for tests, and so began our journey through fertility testing and treatment.

I have endometriosis.  Many people with endo can get pregnant.  And many can’t.  Alex is shipshape.  And so, over time, as I lay on the couch with a heating pad on my abdomen watching sitcoms of happy homes bursting with children, my thoughts wandered to what if I wasn’t here?  What if I was out of the picture and my sweet darling husband who I love so much could remarry a fertile Myrtle who could give him the kids he deserves?  After months and months of hospital trips and chronic ovarian pain, I had a large stash of pills lined up in the medicine cabinet.  Ten steps down the hall to the bathroom and ten steps back to the couch would free Alex to be a daddy…

Lies.  Jesus inside of me would not let me fall for them.  One day, after spending too much time in my television fog thinking of slipping away, I stood up, walked quickly into the bathroom, opened up every last jar into the toilet, and flushed.  My backup plan swirled away and I breathed lighter and made a choice to be a wife, to stay, to fight.

Infertility does not define me.  Infertility does not lessen me as a woman.  I am a stronger woman than I was because of this battle.  And I will use every last drop of my weakness for the glory of Jesus.  ”His grace is sufficient for me, for His power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:8).  I am a weak vessel for His perfect power.  ”Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

Only Jesus could redeem me from my life on the couch.

Only Jesus could restore me from a life almost erased.

Only Jesus could reveal His majesty through my ashes.

I love my infertility.  I love my weakness.  Because it’s not the whole story.  ”Being confident of this: that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:5-7).

“You’re so young.”  Yes, yes, that’s true.  Shouldn’t getting pregnant be easier then?  I mean, my eggs were youthful and vivacious and ready to grow into a person, right?  When we finally had our first appointment with the reproductive endocrinologist, she said that because I was so young, I shouldn’t be having these kinds of problems.  Thank you!  Yes, exactly!  Ha, now I joke that God will have a good laugh and decide to make me pregnant when I’m 45.  Gulp.

“You just need to relax.”  How do I relax when the thing I want so badly is eluding me month in month out and I am powerless to make it happen?  We tried relaxing.  I took my mind off of it, got excited about other things, refocused.  Months later, still no baby.  I made good grades in school, got into the college where I wanted to go, never really had a major thing that I couldn’t achieve without hard work and diligence.  Until infertility.  I could not work my way out of it.  I could not make myself get pregnant.

“Trust God.”  Many people had variations on this one, like somehow my faith was crumbling and I needed a good spiritual enema to stay on the God-train.  I wasn’t struggling with my faith in God!  I was just hurting!  I didn’t understand and I wanted Him to take it away, but He was still on the throne and still good.

“Wait on God.”  Yes, we should absolutely wait on God, follow God, not get ahead of God (I just blogged on waiting a few days ago.).  But.  Would someone tell a cancer patient not to go seek treatment?  God has blessed us with medical interventions.  We slowly, prayerfully took it step by step, waiting on Him for direction, but not just sitting around for a baby to go POOF! in my belly.  More about this later.

“My cousin/friend/sister/aunt couldn’t get pregnant, then after 10 years of utter despair, she finally did!” (said with an encouraging tone and smile of assurance)  What the what?  Ten years!?!?!  This is not helpful people.  Not helpful at all.

“Why don’t you just adopt?”  We looked into it.  Even from our vantage point then, it looked like there was no “just” about it.  Like people thought if you couldn’t get pregnant you could go down to the Department of Adoptions, take a number, fill out a form, and bang!  Baby.  And now as an adoptive parent, I can say that THERE IS NO “JUST” ABOUT IT!!!  Adoption is not a fallback option.  Deciding to adopt is declaring war on forces that do not want to see orphans in families.  It’s worth it and amazing and God’s heart and our PLAN A now, but having gone through both a crazy lab rat conception and high risk pregnancy AND an international adoption that hit roadblock after roadblock…the adoption grew and stretched me in ways that I didn’t know I could bend.  I love it.  I’m an adoption junkie.  But I’m SO GLAD that I didn’t pursue adoption as a fallback plan.  I’m so glad that God moved adoption to Plan A before we headed that direction.

“Are you doin’ it right?”  Um…I dunno.  Maybe we need a diagram or something.

“Have you tried adding ___to your diet/___position/___time of the month/measuring___/doing a fertility dance?”  All useful suggestions.  Thank you.

“It’ll happen for you.”  It.  Might.  Not.  Wrestling with how to survive that.

Now, I live with my foot in my mouth, and my foot’s probably stuck on this keyboard, too.  So many caring people just want to help.  I tried so very hard to smile, nod, extend grace, extend grace, extend grace.  And then sometimes I had to go home and laugh/cry hysterically.

I learned to treat myself gently.  Sometimes it was just okay to not be okay.  Some months were harder than others, and on those days when my hopes would crumble, I’d let myself be sad.  I’d let myself stay in, read a book, watch a movie.  I’d tell God the truth about how I really felt about it.  He knew anyway.  It felt good to tell Him.  ”This sucks.  Take it away.  Make it better.  And I love You and you’re always good, even if I don’t understand why it has to be this way.”

For awhile we were very involved in serving at church, and I really think that helped.  We loved spending time with other couples.  But as more and more of them had babies and we tried again and again, my depression grew deeper and more debilitating.  My faith in God didn’t waver, but my ability to get off the couch and “be normal” did.

I’ll save that for my next post.  Until then, beautiful sisters, I truly love you and ache with you. I’m drawn to Romans 8 tonight and am praying it now for you.  ”I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”  May your present sufferings fall away and His glory be revealed in you.  The whole chapter is encouraging to me.

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  Nor infertility.  Amen and amen.

So, I’m going to do a series of blog posts on my experience with infertility.  While going through that difficult season of my life, I read many many books, and I threw many many books across the room.  Please, if in reading this post or any of the ensuing ones I piss you off, feel free to throw your laptop across the room, spit on your monitor, or electronically punch my face.  Especially for those sweet sisters of mine who are hopped up on hormones and injecting yourselves daily with drugs that make you feel like you’re pregnant AND in menopause all at once…scream at me all you want.  I know.  I remember.  And just because I am where I am now, I am no expert on what you’re going through.  All I have are my own stories and my own choices.  So I guess these next blog posts are going to be my way of hugging you, agreeing with you that it sucks, and sharing my own crap while we drink another stupid cup of decaf coffee cuz we can’t drink the real stuff while trying to get the frick pregnant.  Ah yes…the frustration of yore is coming back to me now….

So I won’t get super-detailed about exactly what all I did in the fertility treatment realm, but for those of you in it, I’ll just outline my route really fast just to give you an idea: 2 years “the old fashioned way,” then 2 years the lab rat way: hysterosalpingogram, laparoscopy, 4 IUIs with superovulation, half an in vitro cycle that bombed before we even got to removing my eggs, full in vitro cycle that ended with my son Elliott, and frozen in vitro cycle that ended with 5 months of Christian counseling.  Plus a ton of other fabulous lab rat experiments and sticking equipment in places.

During the four years of babylessness, I struggled.  I did not navigate those years perfectly.  Not even close.  So I’m not coming from a place of perfection with a simple 10-step plan to wade through infertility as the perfect Christian.  Oh my word.  Anyone who knew me then would laugh me off this blog.  I was messy and crabby…and I still kinda am.

I remember feeling so very alone.  Even surrounded by my lovely wonderful friends and a loving husband, so alone.  I feel like in the Christian community, fertility is just kind of expected.  Our parents had babies, so therefore we’ll have babies, and so often pastors talk about getting married and having kids and I felt like a big big freak for not being able to follow that model.  My parents got married at 22, so did I.  My parents had me at 25…and that’s where my life started to veer off course.  At 22, I really didn’t want kids…ever.  But by 24, I did really really did, and month after month, nothing.

There’s a kind of baby epidemic that happens when you’re doing life in church small groups with other newlyweds.  One by one, couples show up to group with big grins and that “we’ve got a secret” glimmer in their eyes.  During prayer request time, they look at each other, raise eyebrows, “Are you going to say something/do you want me to tell/is this the week we’re going to tell,” and it comes out in this “Ta-da! We have an announcement!” kind of way.  It’s beautiful and special and I celebrated as each couple in my life had their big moment.

One of the first lessons that God taught me as I struggled was to keep my heart soft to the mommas in my life.  I did that by serving my friends, throwing baby showers, cooking meals, asking about their pregnancies.  Certainly there were plenty of times when I just had to go home and sob huge sobs, but I tried to keep my heart soft and not grow bitter.  Now, again, so not perfect, and there have been many random pregos around me complaining about their pregnancies who I would love to, oh I dunno, run over, pull their hair, and run away maniacally laughing.  God surrounded me with adorable pregnant friends who love being pregnant and recognize the gift that it is.  I love each and every one of them for it.

As a mom now, I love celebrating motherhood, but as a pre-mom, it was tough.  Mother’s Day was a horrendous day, as mothers got to stand in church and received flowers and I stayed seated, wracked with abdominal pain from endometriosis and hormone treatments and surgery and still no baby.  The last Mother’s Day that I had before getting pregnant, I drove to Krispy Kreme and ate two donuts.

One Sunday, we were sitting in the balcony at church and I watched as three of my friends from small group walked in together, all pregnant, and sat down in a row, their cute bellies bouncing over their laps.  I ended up in the prayer room crying, boogers streaming, and we didn’t come back to church for three months.

I’ll leave you there, at dangling boogers, and pick up the next post with all the things people said to me.  It’ll be awesome.  No seriously, I am not writing any of this from a place of bitterness.  The most amazing thing happened to me in August 2009: God healed me from the pain of infertility.  I’m still infertile.  In vitro is no longer even an option.  But my heartache is GONE.  One hundred percent gone.  Now I would’ve wanted to punch anyone who told me that a few years ago, so again, I understand if that’s your reaction.  But I do hope that in writing these posts, I can come alongside and just be a friend, and also offer hope and healing for your heart.  I hope you find that before sinking down as deep as I did.

I have Psalm 139 tattooed on my back.  I need a daily reminder that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, that God searches me and knows me and knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I need to know that this broken body, this reproductive disaster, is a work of God.  We live in a broken world, so there is pain and brokenness, but God made me and He loves me in my pain and brokenness.  He didn’t choose to restore my body, but He chose to restore my soul.  And by His will, He made me a mother, even in my brokenness.

I have joy, I have freedom, and I share my former pain and boogers now out of the abundance of His healing.  Bless you.  Big hug.  God has an adventure for you.  I don’t know what it is, but He wastes nothing.  This time of waiting.  This time of human lab rat.  This time of unanswered prayers.  This time of anguish.  He wastes none of it.

When Rachel asked me to write about waiting, I said sure no problem waiting yes absolutely.  And I’ve been paralyzed…WAITING…not having a clue what to say!  The theme of my life is waiting.  Waiting is what I do best…and worst.  How do I fit it all in to one blog post?

My life has been a series of lessons on waiting.  Deep, painful lessons that leave me staggering into God’s lap like a toddler after a boo-boo in need of a hug.  I tried for four years to get pregnant.  49 monthly cycles, to be exact.  Ask me how much I love it when people give me a perk-up smile and say, “It’ll happen in God’s timing.”  Yes, yes, thank you.  Now please go away.  I think my favorite comment was when a guy with whom I worked asked me if we were “doin’ it right.”  Seriously?

For the rest of the post, please check out Rachel’s site!

One by one we told our stories.  How did such a diverse group come to this place of “just go?”  I already feel the fingers of God in our trip.  I’ve been praying for another key person for the trip and I ran into him in church this morning at a time and place where I am usually not.  I then was telling a friend about him on the way to the meeting and I passed him on the street.  Hmmm…I don’t believe in coincidences.

God is a God of answered prayer.  Today I was blown away yet again.  I prayed for a nurse.  God provided a nurse who is also a midwife.  I prayed for a photographer.  God provided a photographer who is also a momma of 6, 2 adopted through the agency that we’re using for India.  And since last summer when I was there, I’ve been praying for someone who knows handcrafts.  The kids are starting to learn handcrafts in Adacar, and I really felt a need for someone from our team who could understand what they were learning and encourage them in their pursuit.

We went around the circle, introducing ourselves, what led us to the trip, what we hoped to learn/be a part of on the trip, and we got to the last person.  Right now, our sole man on the trip.  Former air traffic controller, experience in construction, and wait.  What?  Pottery.  The arts.

No.  Freaking.  Way.

I almost starting laughing like an idiot.  Sometimes God makes me giddy!  Of COURSE God didn’t forget.  Of COURSE He answered that prayer.  Cuz let’s be honest.  I’m not creative enough to think of that prayer request on my own.  He was the one who planted that prayer in my heart to begin with.  I think He delights in blowing my mind.

So we have a nurse, a photographer, and someone who knows handcrafts.  My prayer checklist, check check check.  And then there’s the rest of the team, and I am beyond excited to watch as God uses each person for His glory.

I’m praying what Andy Stanley asked us to pray: “Stretch out Your hand to heal and perform signs and wonders through the Name of Your holy servant Jesus” (Acts 4:30).

So often little crumbs left trailside look like just that, crumbs, until God za-za-zas them all together to make a big honkin’ muffin.  And then I say OHHHHHH.  That’s what all those crumbs were.  AhHAHH.

In these months after bringing Evie home, we’ve felt a strong need to seek out our other kids and bring them home, too!  First we pursued domestic adoption, which is a fabulous thing, but God hit me with the realization that I was only pursuing it because I was scared to tackle a foreign dossier again.  Melanie, are you going to let a little thing like a foreign dossier get in the way of the work I have for you?  Umm…no, no, never, God, never.

Then, we found a little 3-year-old boy from an African country on a waiting list and began the paperwork to bring him home.  Something didn’t feel right.  We heard some troubling reports.  I felt like while I was waiting in the carpool line to pick up Elliott from school, God slammed Ephesians 5 in my head, “But among you there should not be even a hint of…greed…let no one deceive you with empty words…do not be partners with them.”  We couldn’t get answers.  We kept asking questions.  Andy Stanley says that during decisions one question to ask is, “Is there a tension that needs my attention?”  There was a lot of tension…and the more attention we gave to it, the more tension we felt.  We laid it down.  We left our money and walked away.  We have to be able to look our children in the eyes and have truth for them.  Integrity is the most important thing.  It was hard.  But also right.  And right feels good.  Right feels peaceful.  Right makes my tummy all better.

(Now WakingSleepingAlex and Spike the Yorkie are having a snoring contest.  It’s a bit like Dueling Banjoes in here.)

So, as I’m praying praying praying for Alex to have wisdom, for Alex to hear from God (I was ready to run the other direction right away, but he took time to think and mull and so I prayed for his decision, and so many other decisions were birthed from those prayers!), I’m also flying through Jen Hatmaker’s book, 7.  I know, I know, I can’t blog without mentioning it.  Near the end of it, she mentions her adoption agency, America World.  Crumbs.  I kept hearing amazing things about this agency.  (Now we love, love, love Gladney, our agency with Evie, and we’re so blessed to have worked with them, but their Ethiopia program is currently closed, and we haven’t felt called to any of their other programs.  But love them.  LOOVVE THEM.)

I put the book down, ran upstairs, got online, and went to the America World website.  Kept hearing such good things.  Should probably just stinkin’ go to their website.  Click on country programmmmssss…no way.  There, nestled halfway down their list of countries, was a piece of our heart.  What was it doing there?  It’s never been an option before!

For the last year and a half, Alex, who I’ve been praying for, mind you, has been saying, “I really want to go to ___.”   At one point he asked about adoption from ___ and I didn’t think it was open for adoption in the age range or whatever I didn’t even consider it.  And when Children’s HopeChest began a partnership within this country, I asked Alex about getting involved financially.  I can always tell where Alex’s heart is based on his financial response.  He blew me away.  He doesn’t cry or write wordy blog posts or get all huggy and sentimental.  He gives.  That’s how I know what he loves.  He’s a big beautiful giver.  He jokes that he’s “dead inside,” but his checkbook tells the real story.  My big, snoring, neutral-faced, unemotional lug loves.  He big loves.

My insides went trembly and I had that moment.  The moment everything snaps into focus, God schooshes up the breadcrumbs, and I SEE the muffin.  I told Alex.  He may or may not have had the muffin moment.  His face is permanently neutral, so who could tell?  We pre-applied online.

A couple of hours later, I get a call.  He says, “If you had contacted us a few days ago, we would’ve told you that the ___ program is closed.  It just reopened today.”  Muffin, people, MUFFIN.  Breadcrumbs flyin’ all over the place.  And they accept post-adoption people after the child has been placed for 6 months.  We JUST completed our 6-month post-adoption report.

So today, (Seriously, Alex’s snores just escalated, like he’s playing up the grand finale.) we were officially accepted into America World’s pilot program for INDIA!!!  We are beyond excited.  We’re setting out on this journey with the three things that kept us going during Evie’s adoption: deep faith that the Lord has brought us to this place and will sustain us, love for the country and excitement to bring the culture into our home, and peace about the integrity and excellence of the adoption agency with which we’re working.

(Alex’s snores just quieted, so I guess this is the denouement.)

There is a new category on my blog.  India.  I’m so excited to see what God has in store for us, and how our lives will be forever changed.  It’s a pilot program, so we are venturing into the unknown.  We set out with baby steps into our Ethiopian adventure back in August 2009, and God stretched and grew us, and our faith is stronger, our trust deeper.  We’re excited to stretch more, grow more, and go deeper and deeper with Him.  Jesus Christ is our everything.  May our family be for His glory and by His grace.

And then there are moments, sometimes days, of pain.  Literal and emotional pain.  Some of it’s toddler and some of it is brokenness.  Yesterday in Kroger, kicking, biting, lashing out with razor nails trying to get a piece of Mommy, trying to be the boss and take control with sweaty fists and clenched jaw and hitting hitting hitting any piece of me that she could find.  I finally had to push the cart from the other side.  Smiling people making “Awwww cute” noises and me nodding as I’m dying inside just a little bit at a time.  Feeling rejected, feeling the unfairness of her anger bullets.

Love is not a feeling.  Love is action.  I have to strap on my mom balls, pull up my big girl pants and love her.  Love her with consistent boundaries.  Love her with my eyes and gentle hands when I don’t feel gentle inside.  But sometimes I just plain feel rejected.  And 10 minutes later, her mystery rage is over and she’s smiles and giggles again.  And the scars from her nails still on my hands…and the scars still in my heart.

And how many times have I scarred my Father’s hands?  Scars from my nails, scars from THE nails piercing flesh of my Savior?  How many times do I reject Him and still He loves loves loves me?  With gentle eyes and gentle words He loves.  And I reject Him by trying to control my life.  I reject Him with my mistrust.  I run to other gods for comfort.  I scorn him and choose my own way again and again.  I am hitting biting toddler trying to find purchase on skin and cause pain.

And when I return to Him, He welcomes me.  He meets me where I am.  Again and again, He extends grace.

Sigh.  To be that kind of mother.  He is my model.  Every new gift of a day, I will choose His way.  I will choose patience.  I will choose sacrifice.  I will love in action.  And I am not Him, so I will fail.  But I must get back up and love love love again and again.

Today I felt myself losing the battle and words beginning to fly and I sucked everything back in, found Meredith Andrews on my iPod, and reaching hands to the ceiling, I began to twirl, face lifted, soaking in grace from the source of all grace, the Creator of grace.  Healing, opening, releasing.  I remembered how to smile.  I kissed defiant forehead and beamed at my daughter gift.

And a song came on that zoomed me back to the intersection where I waited at the light, sobbing while choking out the words, “Take everything I have only to be Yours Lord, Yours Lord.  Take it from my hands, until I’m holding onto only You.”  The day we feared we might lose her forever.  The day we hit the worst and final obstacle in her adoption story.  And I drove to get dinner because I needed to get out and I needed to not cook and on the way home, this song.  And tears choked and sprang out and I sang take it.  Take everything.  Trust.

And now she’s here.  I laid her down at His feet.  And through His goodness He allowed me to pick her back up again and bring her home.  And today hearing that song again, gratitude rushed back into my heart.  My frustrated eyes melted into love eyes and I saw her again for the gift that she is.  A living testimony to God’s sweet grace in our home.

Love is action, and tomorrow is another opportunity to spring into it.

Yesterday, Alex called the cable company and told them to turn it off.  They informed him that because we were bundling internet/phone/TV, we’d only save $17/month by dropping it.  The DVR, all the channels, the special movie-watching stuff…only $17 extra dollars a month.  Blerg, but it’s not about the money, so he told them to cut it off and BAM!  Right then, the TV went black.  Oooooohhhh.  Weird.  So quiet.  Me no likey.

Let’s review.  So far for 2012, I’ve cut out gluten, dairy, television, and a van-full of items I do not need that are headed to be sold to benefit sweet girls who have been trafficked.  Gluten and dairy as a grand experiment with some allergies and behaviors happening in our household, television because I was plugging into IT instead of into God, and van items because, well, even though I thought we’d pared down over the last few years, we still have whole closets worth of crap that we just don’t need.  Everything from goodbye 20 extra teeshirts that I’m sick of washing to goodbye fancy silver bowl that I never use.  Goodbye cute little crocheted top thingy that I bought at Lizard Thicket and only wear twice a year to goodbye extra duvet and sham covers.  When you start to think you need a bigger house to hold all your junk, you have too much junk.  I want less junk and more kids to fit in this house.

The gluten-dairy thing started as a medical experiment and has become a spiritual one.  I feel like I’m fasting EVERY DAY.  I pretty much only ate cheese on bread or bread on cheese.  I served my kids mac n cheese four times a week.  And any bready crackery snack that went BOGO at Publix?  Sign me uppp.  So, without gluten and dairy to work with…I immediately lost 2 pounds.

Don’t worry.  I’ve gained them back!  I’m food shopping and cooking differently, we’re eating at home so much more, and we’re learning to tame the impulsive beast within that screams EAT MEEEE!!! at places like Panera and TCBY.  We’re eating more veggies, discovering new grains, and appreciating each bite.  I actually find myself hoping that this little experiment works and becomes permanent, because it’s made me realize that I eat to live.  I don’t live to eat.  And I’m grateful, so so so grateful.  I love eating at home more.  I’m baking more, making breakfast more.  I don’t want my kids to miss out, so I’m shoveling new recipes and new I-just-made-this-ups in their little faces.  Elliott’s started asking, “Does this have allergies in it?” every time I hand him something.  When I am out somewhere and have to deny myself something I love, it reminds me of the countless faces who eat posho and beans every day and are so very grateful for it.  I am grateful for the options I have – for gluten/dairy free cookies and the delectable discovery of the soy chai latte.  I am learning to savor.

Focusing on home, focusing on less (Seriously, read Jen Hatmaker’s “7.”  Seriously.  And also hilariously.), focusing on creating space, both in my drawers and in my mind, in my time.  No TV, ugh, I miss the mindless filling of the void.  But.  I’m excited to see what God places in this void, voiding the void and creating purpose where there wasn’t any.

So that’s January.  And Alex planning his winter trip to Uganda and me planning my summer trip to Uganda.  And a little thing we’ll call Operation Next Step that hopefully I’ll get to blog about next week.  2012 is off to a…start.  It’s starting off with a….  It’s….  2012 is happening.  Not sure where it’s going to land.  And the adventure is half the fun.

As a stay-at-home mother, what does it look like to pour out my life for Jesus?  How do I make Him my all, the most important thing in my life, the reason for my life, my everything?  How do I exalt Him in my job, in my workplace?  I’ve been thinking about it lately.  Would He want me to focus all of my energy on raising two as-perfect-as-possible kids and giving them all my time and attention?  Making sure that all their needs are met at every moment and they are perfectly prepared for every situation?  Would He want me to do that at the expense of the millions of children who don’t have mothers?  Would He want me to leave all the other kids in orphanages until they age out and fall prey to trafficking in order to raise my two perfect kids and give them a safe, well-balanced, happy life?  Is that part of what’s creating our extreme sense of entitlement as Americans?  Maybe my kids NEED a large handful of other children sanding down their rough edges and teaching them that the world in fact does not turn around them.  It turns around Christ.  He is our everything.  Do I truly embrace that and model that with my choices as a mom?

This Christmas season I felt out of sync with everything.  The overabundance of our nation, my choices as a parent…and we’ve pared down in the last two years…a lot.  I mean, we’ve been on a simplicity path big-time the last two years…but I don’t think it’s enough.  I’m restless.  I’m teetering on the edge of still fitting in to my surroundings and wondering if I need to take that final plunge over the edge and stop fitting in altogether…and I don’t mean stop shaving my armpits.

We overcomplicate things.  Jesus simplifies everything.  Feed the hungry.  Clothe the naked.  Go and make disciples.  I feel constant stress from losing things, misplacing things, running around searching for STUFF.  Evie’s coats.  Evie’s dolls.  Elliott’s shoes.  Maybe if we had one coat instead of five, I’d do a better job of keeping up with it.

I have no idea what’s coming, but I know Who’s coming, whenever.  And I need to start living like He’s real.  I love watching TV.  I mean, LOVE it.  Like, on the couch at night, too lazy to get up and get a snack, LOVE it.  I get excited on the nights there are three shows that I like back to back to back.  I never ever ever want to give that up.  We gave up TV for several years, and then we just slid into watching movies all the time.  No different.  But if Jesus is real and this world is not my home, is that what I should be doing every night?

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I wrote all that a few weeks ago but didn’t hit “publish.”  Been pondering, doing some heavy mulling.  I actually wrote all of that before I read Jen Hatmaker’s new book, “7,” and now having just finished it, it’s like she was in my head, only wittier and smarter.

Per my last post, I’ve been praying for God to give wisdom and discernment to Alex.  He HAS!  Dude, prayer WORKS!  I mean, Alex has been on a roll, a new insight every few days, experiencing spiritual awakening, and I am enjoying the fruit of his leadership.  And I think we’re going to let Project HulaHoop clatter to the floor and head in a totally different direction.  And we’re excited and experiencing same-page-y-ness, which is always lovely in a marriage.

A few weeks ago he told me that he felt led to give up video games for three months (Thank You, GOD!!!).  Tonight he raved about how he’s getting more sleep and enjoying more time with me.  And then he said he felt like we should cancel TV.  Whoa.  Giving up gaming is great for you, babe, but now you’re digging around in MY addiction!  And I immediately felt peace.  I’ve been teetering on that ledge for awhile, too excited about blobbing out on the couch to take the leap.  Tonight, my husband pushed me over, and as I’m careening over the canyon, I feel relieved.  Relieved that my husband, my partner, wants bigger things for our family than media addiction.  Relieved that I don’t have to do it alone.  Relieved that my kids don’t have to get sucked into watching one more show one more one more more more.  Because their father has the guts to unplug his family.

It’s just a little media.  There’s still Hulu and my love/hate relationship with my laptop.  It’s not like we’re selling everything and moving to Uganda.  In some ways, that would be easier, more straightforward, than the life that we feel called to here, the daily choice to walk towards Jesus and self-denial and serving instead of toward comfort and luxury and the thrall of the shiny life here in the ‘burbs.

So, unplugging a bit, laying down Project HulaHoop, and taking up a new project.  But that’s for another post.

I will say this, I am so very thankful that God has not allowed us to feel comfortable.  Since bringing Evie home, I have not felt done.  I have not settled into our new life and breathed a sigh of relief.  I felt relief at having her with us.  But I was quickly seized with the conviction that there are still several holes in our family!  God is not done.  We are not a complete unit.  We are missing people.  And it’s not okay to sit back and get comfy.  Yes, we experience great joy as a foursome.  And I won’t miss the joy of the family of now.  I won’t wish it away.  I will savor moments (not every single one, cuz let’s face it, no one enjoys a 2-year-old melting down in Target!).  But I actually miss the joy in the pain.  I miss the feeling of desperately clinging to Jesus as the God of ALL hope.  I miss feeling so out on a limb with Him that I had to hold on so tight so tight.  I miss the closeness of total dependence.  Through my tears begging for my daughter, it was joyful.  And now through my laughter with my crazy kids together, it is joyful.  So no matter what’s ahead, there will be joy.  I will have joy simply from walking with my Savior.

The Christian walk is a great adventure.  I’m so freakin’ excited for the next chapter.  But that’s another post.

Over and over, I hear from women who want to adopt but their husbands’ hearts aren’t in the same place.  I’ve been blessed with a husband who DOES want to adopt, but our hearts still operate a little differently within the big ol’ realm of adoption.  Pretty much every week, I go to him saying, “There’s a 15-year-old boy who’s only adoptable for one more week!  We have to adopt him!”  ”There’s a family of 7 kids in foster care.  We have to adopt them!”  ”There’s a baby here in town who needs a family!  We have to adopt her!”  Kids needing fostering, kids needing forever homes, old kids, new kids, red kids, blue kids.  And my husband receives it all…and smiles…and lets me down gently.

Currently we’re working on Project HulaHoop.  Both our hearts collided about it at the same time.  But we have a lot of questions about Project HulaHoop.  And we’re not sure if the hoop is going to keep spinning or clatter to the ground.  We’re not sure whether to keep gyrating our hula-hooping hips or let the hula hoop circle to our ankles.  I’ve been praying Lord Lord Lord Lord gimme gimme gimme gimme wisdom gimme discernment gimme gimme soak a fleece speak to me gimme gimme help help help.

I felt like God smacked me in the face with Ephesians 5 for something related to Project HulaHoop, and as I read the second chunk of that chapter, I felt lead to stop praying for wisdom for myself and start praying for my husband!  Oh, I mean, I pray for me-wisdom all the time and that’s awesome and fabulous and I’ll continue to do that for ever and ever, but for this particular thingy that I’ve been noodling, I need to pray for God to give Alex some serious wisdom.

I’ve been studying Lineage of Grace, by Francine Rivers, with my high school girls, and I happened upon this really interesting point last week.  God spoke to Mary once, but He spoke to Joseph four times.  And I get that, I think.  For my particular situation, my heart goes out to every child in need.  I want to do something about every need that hits my Facebook wall.  Alex has a huge heart, too, but he responds differently.  Instead of getting frustrated with his differing opinion or seeming lack of action, I need to pray for God to speak to him!  And I need to pray that I’ll hear God through Alex.  Because, well, I already know which way I think we should go, most of the time.  It’s when Alex feels the same way that I really know we’re heading in the right direction.  I need some confirmation right now about Project HulaHoop, so I’m praying for some serious discernment for Alex.  I ran up to his office and told him to look alert so he doesn’t miss it when God leads him.  I told him that I’m praying for him to hear from God and I trust him completely.  Yeah, no pressure there, big guy.