Give a Buddy to an Orphan for only $20

When we left Russia this last time, we left a few things for Daniel as gifts, one of which was we little Scentsy stuffed animal.  When we gave the stuffed animal to the caregiver, she told us how cute and soft it was and then she said that since she couldn't give one to all the children, she would put it on a shelf and let him play with it a little each day.  Daniel wouldn't be able to sleep with it, though.  We completely understood, but it got me thinking....

Why can't every single child have their very own stuffed animal?  The baby home in which Daniel lives has a little over 100 children all under the age of four.  It tugs at my heart to think not only do these precious babies have nothing in the world to call their very own, but also that there is no soft little cuddly stuffed animal to hold while they close their eyes and drift to sleep.  Brock and I have been extremely blessed to have so many of you follow our story, pray for us and help us fulfill our dream of being a parent.  We are asking you to consider blessing an orphan in a small way. 

As most of you know, I have sold Scentsy for the sole purpose of raising money to help with our adoption costs.  In addition to the warmers and wax, Scentsy also has "Baby Buddies"-cute and soft little stuffed animals with a special pouch for a scented sachet.  Our goal is to be able to take 130 Baby Buddies to the orphange when we go back next month to pick our son up and bring him to his forever home.  We are asking you to be a part of blessing these children in this special way.  For $20, you can buy a Baby Buddy for an orphan.  We leave on the 18th, so I need orders collected NO LATER THAN JULY 5TH JUST TO BE SAFE!!!

You can give a Buddy to a Baby in one of three ways:

Click on the Donate button on the blog at http://www.thegorbyproject.blogspot.com/  follow the instructions and donate $20 and include "Baby Buddy" in the note section.  If there is a particular Buddy you'd like to have given in your name, you can specify that, too!

Mail a check for $20 with a note for Baby Buddy to:
Ashley Williams
PO Box 86
Bloomfield, MO 63825


Go to https://ashleywilliams.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Buy/Collection/785 and pick your buddy and ship to
Ashley Williams
312 E Shawnee
Bloomfield, MO 63825
(This way it will cost a little more because you will have to pay for shipping and tax.  The other two ways, we are covering those costs ourselves)

Thank you so much!  I absolutely cannot wait to see the look in these children's eyes when they get to pick out their very own stuffed animal!

No More, "Not Today"

I don't even know how to begin. I have no idea how to start. How do you put into words the conclusion to a two and half year journey? It feels surreal. It feels fantastic. It feels Divine.

The last three days have been an absolute blur. We arrived in Arkhangelsk, Russia on Tuesday, June 12, 2012 around 11:30 in the morning and we were met by a new translator, Natalie. While she was new to this position, she was not new to international adoptions nor the processes involved and she proved to be, as all of our translators have been, an incredible blessing. We were hoping to see Daniel that afternoon, but we were told that since it was a Russian holiday, we would need to wait until the following morning before we could visit him in the baby home. So, we took some much needed rest and woke up on Wednesday refreshed and excited. When we arrived at the baby home, we were amazed that the four feet of snow and ice had vanished and was replaced by dandelions the size of a chid's fist. It would seem that with the 24 hours of daylight, every living creature takes advantage and grows exponentially. We were ushered into the same small room that we had met Daniel just under three months prior. Could it really be that it has only taken eleven weeks? We had assumed that March 23, 2012 marked the darkest day in our lives after that court hearing and now we see that a plan had unfolded. March 23rd changed the direction of our lives forever. And each year will mark the anniversary of that bitterest-sweetest days of our life. No sooner had we sat down than we heard the light patter of little feet. The door swung open, and in bounded Daniel. He did a jump stop by the toys before the caregiver could call his name. He turned around, reluctant to divert his attention from the toys, saw us and his face exploded with excitement. He flung his arms wide and ran head long into Brock's open arms. He remembered us!

We spent the rest of that meeting and the next rolling on the floor with him, making him laugh, kicking the ball back and forth, building "towers" and knocking them over with trucks and trains. All three of us were in paradise. The translator and social worker had discreetly stepped into the other office, but every so often we caught their faces peering around the corner, smiling or heard a happy chuckle in response to Daniel's boisterous belly-laugh. When the caregiver came to take him back to his room the first time, he backed up with his back against the wall, puffed his little chest out and vehmently shook his head from side to side. The gentle caregiver gave him a sweet smile and said, as translated by Natalie, "He is having too good of a time with you and does not wish to leave you." No sooner had she said that than he ran to the child-size couch, popped his thumb in his mouth and flopped face first into the cushion. He seemed placated when he was told we could walk with him and he grabbed my hand and we walked him back.

The next morning, we were scheduled to be picked up in front of the hotel with Natalie, the translator, Eager, the driver and Sergei from the Ministry of Education. Sergei was to observe our interactions with Daniel so that he could provide testimony in court. We had met Sergei on the previous trip and found him to be a jolly, jovial gentlemen. He very obviously has a passion for adoptions and working in the best interest of the children and once again we were recipients of unmerited favor from someone who had compassion on us. We hopped in the car and were met with the infectious grin of Sergei and the solemn eyes of Natalie. "Bad news today," in her Russian accent. "We were told, just this morning, that you will be required to complete the medicals. Sergei is trying to work his connections, but I do not know what this means. I do not understand why they cannot accept the medical referral from your American family doctor. Family doctors are just beginning to be popular here. But today, we must see eight doctors, and they must all be the head doctors. Do not worry. We are trying, but I do not yet know how they will do this. My fear is that they will reschedule court for Tuesday. I know about your flights and I know about your visas. Let us not worry, we will do our best. I am sorry we did not know this before now. You are the first family who has had this happen."

Again.

 I looked at the white face of my husband and felt our journey spiral out of control once again. We had been required to complete our medicals in St. Petersburg last July and it had cost us $1600. And that was with appointments to the doctors, of which we had none now. We had spent our last rubbles on our lunch and we were concerned about finding the time to go to the bank to exchange more money. Our translator- self-proclaimed-miraculously had 5,000 rubbles with her (about $165) and we would go as far as we could with that since we were extremely pressed for time. Why again? We had already decided that we could not afford mentally, physically, emotionally or financially to be told anything but "yes" in court this trip. The last thing we wanted to do was walk away from this sweet little boy, but our emotions and our psyche were hanging on by a stretched thread. We could not walk through what we had just been through again. We would not delay another child from being put back into the database for another family while a judge vacillated. So one more day. One day more.

We could run the last leg of this race with everything we had left in us. One way or the other, it all would be over the very next day. We had no idea that we would literally be running a race. I had no idea that my decision to not wear socks with my Sketchers that morning would leave my feet swollen, blistered and bloody by the end of the day. From noon until 5, the day stretched like a blur. Unmarked buildings, needles, signatures, running on trodden down paths in fields of grass and dandelions that were literally two feet tall. Pressing on only knowing the next step as it came. We had eight doctors to see. Brock looked at me in a waiting room at one point with the look of utter defeat. "All it would take is one doctor not to be available and we've lost everything."

The first three stops were comical at best. We ran into the building for infectious diseases only to be told that we must pay before they would allow the chief doctor to see us. And to pay, we were to go to an ambigious building somewhere to the south of us. We spent precious, precious time chasing shadows and trying to find the right people in the right order. Sergei was with us, boldly leading and persuading with his charm and pull. He clicked through the halls with his briefcase, with Natalie following behind, me struggling to keep up and Brock somewhat despondently falling back. So many miles in the last two and a half years. So many times we rushed at break neck speed to complete something just under the deadline. We were pulling the last of our reserves, strenghenend only by the recent outstretched arms and infectious giggle of our sweet little Daniel. We were going to give it all we had. We met some very kind and understanding doctors. Some who were gruff and insensitive. One left me near tears on the table, staring up at the ceiling wondering how much more violated and vunerable I would have to be to complete this adoption. One more day. One day more.

By 5:00 PM, we had met with every doctor except the pulmanologist and radiologist. Sergei had procurred appointment with them at 9:00 in the morning as soon as their doors were open. One hour before our court proceedings. We were so close and so far away. One hiccup and it would crash around us. I couldn't sleep when we finally made it back to the hotel. My legs ached, my feet throbbed and my mind tumbled with every possible ridiculous question that I thought the judge would ask. I dreamed that the judge from Murmansk flew down to oversee the hearing in Arkhangelsk. By morning, I was exhausted. (and grateful that it was not the cardiologist that we were slated to see!) For all the stress, our appointment was blessedly uneventful. Every single doctor had made him or herself available. Our favorite was the pyschologist who spoke with a hearty, "Vellcome...Pleese, sit dowuhn" with a delightful grin that stretched ear to ear. We complimented her English and asked if she spoke more phrases. "Veery littl-uh. I'mmmm HUNGry...Dis is bedy expensuve." Each remark was accentuated with exaggerated hand gestures and animated facial expressions. After she completed her process, she bid us farewell with a, "Guud bye-uh and guud luck." And it just so happened that she was as delighted with our attempts at Russian conversations as we were with her English. What a blessing! By the way, the cost of all the medical evaluations? Let's just say that Natalie's 5,000 rubbles (paid back in full, of course) covered every single fee we incurred. God's provision once again proved sufficient. He is so good.

Our court hearing was in a much smaller and more comfortable room. Our judge, the honorable Andrei was a serious looking man with very thoughtful questions. My heart was racing and my breathing became sporadic when he asked the social worker about Daniel's biological mother. Natalie managed to, quite smoothly I might add, interject "don't worry-it's normal" in her translation without missing a single beat. I stole a quick glance at her face, and her professinalism never wavered. While my speech was written out explicitly (as we could use notes) Brock went first and then the judge proceeded to ask questions that covered every single topic of my speech. I took a deep breath, and did what I am not gifted at doing at all, and I "winged it". We were asked questions and then the others in the room gave their testimony. Sergei had said in our meeting the night before that we seemed like a funny couple and we would make very good parents and he was jealous that Daniel was going to be our son. We offered to adopt him. Svetlana, the social worker, announced that while she had been present for the meetings, she found that we were all three very comfortable and could communicate effectively enough that she wasn't needed for much assistance. She also, very diplomatically, pointed out that while he was very comfortable with both of us, he seemed especially taken with Brock. He seemed to enjoy sitting on my lap and playing with me, but he was thrilled when he could wallow all over Brock. It was also evident as our last meeting with him before that, he had been instructed to bid a "Paca Paca" (bye bye) to us and he ran for Brock, threw his little arms around his neck and then ran right by me while turning his little shoulder down. (But not to worry, I got more than my fair share of hugs and lovin's, as Svetlana announced)

After about an hour and a half in court, it was time for closing remarks. The Prosecutor, a round face woman with smiling blue eyes, told the judge that she saw that we were financially and physically able to provide for the child and that she believed it was in the child's best interest to grant our petition to adopt. When she said our names, she stumbled briefly on my Lara Ashley Williams and I caught her eye and nodded that she had gotten it close enough. She smiled and winked at me. Judge Andrei retired to his chambers while he deliberated. Svetlana and Natalie both said that our speeches were wonderful and that Svetlana had never seen the judge crack a smile in the court proceedings until Brock. That's my hubby! He came out a short time later and, after reading four or five pages of official documents, we heard the heart-stopping, long-awaited, "the court has decided to grant the petition to adopt Averin Daniil Sergeevich by Brock Wayne Williams and Lara Ashley Williams." It was finished. Well, somewhat...We will now wait for the 30 day waiting period and come back to pick up our son, finish the necessary paperwork and bring Daniel Wayne Williams to his forever home in July. Brock and I wish to remind everyone that we are so incredibly grateful for all your prayers and support! Please remember too, that when we first come home, we are going to "batten down the hatches" for a short time and let him get used to us and us get used to being parents. We absolutely cannot wait to introduce him to the world, but we need to introduce him to a whole new world in our family first. Please be patient with us during this transistion time...

Our final visit with Daniel this trip had an entirely different flavor. For the first time in this entire process, I looked our son in the eyes, pointed to his chest and said "Daniel." Then I pointed to my chest and said, "Mamma" Brock, gently picked him up in his arms, and with a choked voice, pointed to Daniel's chest and said, "Daniel." Then, with his hand over his heart and with the most tender look on his face, "Daddy. I am your Daddy." I believe that Daniel knew. When we left him, we took turns carrying him down the hall and when he reached his room, he whimpered. "Paca, Paca Daniel" Natalie looked at us with her huge, soulful blue eyes and said, "He is sad because he knows he won't see you for a while. But he nods when they ask if he understands that you will come back." We are coming back, Daniel. The minute they let us, we are coming to take you to your forever home. We will tell you of the miracle of your story. We will tell you about Irina, Margie, Andrei, Natasha, Sasha, Roman the driver, Tatiana Red and Tatina White, Denis, Sergei the driver, Sergei the apartment owner, Irina the social worker, Nina, Nasta, Natalie, Eager, Sergei at the Ministry of Education, Svetlana, your caregivers and of course, your brother Roman. He led us to you. I am so glad you are our son.

I want to interject here briefly and say that every single person we have dealt with in Buckner has done an exceptional job. They have cried with us, they have aided us in ways that we never would imagined. Brock had asked Natalie, in a choked voice if she knew our story and knew why another potential delay was so hard for us. She teared up and said she was aware and she couldn't imagine. These people have cried tears for us. They have cried tears for the children who deserve so much more. I must also say that almost everything about our Arkhangelsk experience has been relatively easy. If it weren't for the fact that our scars are only two months old and still healing, we would have had as close to the ideal experience as we coud have had. We know that we are richly blessed in friends, family, supporters, helpers. As I was sitting in the court room this morning, I started mentally listing all of the people who would rejoice with us. All these people put our family together. Finanically, prayerfully and with just good old-fashioned hard-and I know it's stressfully difficult sometimes!-work! Who are we that we should be the recipients of such favor? Daniel, God indeed "blessed the broken road that led [us] straight to you." And you will hear every single day for the rest of your life that you being our son is our miracle.

Ramblings of a Future Father

How do you start to put together the excitement and uncertainty of a new phase of your life?  One thing that is interesting with the human spirit is that you have the choice to give up but if you really feel that something you want great enough you will fight to the end for it.  I truly feel with all of my being that we are nearing the end of our adoption journey and in a very short amount of time Daniel is going to be sleeping in his room with all the stuffed animals and new clothes and everything that he probably never could imagine at his disposal.  We met with Daniel yesterday and to say that we are getting tired of being ushered into a room to spend a brief amount of time with a child that we would lay our lives down for, would be an understatement.  Even though we are still reserved in fully embracing being Daniel's mommy and daddy we are not reserved with Daniel.  He is a wonderful little boy and with that he has a child's excitement that is intoxicating.  When he goes to get a toy he more often than not will jump when we gets to his destination.  To see the jumpstop of this child melts my heart and it is part of the reason that we once again flew many thousands of miles to see it once again.  Daniel has not been feeling well the last couple of days we were told and you could tell that he was a little weary by the look on his face.  When he saw us and heard the caregiver say momma and poppa he ran and lunged for me and gave me a big hug.  Then he lunged for Ashley and gave her a big hug.  Then he headed straight for the toys.  I truly feel that Daniel remembered us by the way he reacted to us.  Maybe in his mind momma and poppa are people that play with him and yes we are going to do that a lot but there is so much more to the equation.  Not only are we going to play with him but we will care for him, love on him, support him, and try to do our very best at giving him a life that is perfect.  Or at least as perfect as a life can be.  Ashley and I have spoke about not spoiling Daniel.  Sure we are going to want to give him everything that we have the power to afford and shower it on him but that isn't what he needs, all Daniel truly needs is our love.  Our love for this child that has not even begun to grasp the meaning of the play time that he has had with us.  It is going to be tough not to be the parent that says "I want him to have all of everything" but we don't want to be that way.  We don't want Daniel to grow up expecting everything to be handed to him because he "deserves" anything he wants.  Don't get me wrong he is going to have everything that he needs and many of the things that he wants, but I just pray that we will be good parents to give him the loving home that every child so much deserves.  It pains me to think about all the children that are living in homes that they are an afterthought to their parents.  The "thing" on the parents minds are so much more important that these precious little children.  Whether that "thing" is alcohol or drugs or chasing a partner or work or whatever.  I just wish that people would realize what is truly needed in homes today.  One thing that I think is missing in society are homes.  I am being a little abstract here but a home is not four walls and a roof, a home is a loving safe place for all living there to be.  Whether it is a husband and wife and children or whatever the combination.  I hate that the failure rate with marriages has broken down that vital part of what a home should be.  I know that no one is perfect and I also know that there are times in a marriage that can be very challenging.  I just wish that people would not throw in the towel so easy.  I love my wife in every way you can imagine and surprise surprise sometimes she gets on my last nerve!!!  There is nothing wrong with that as long as you learn to deal with it and move on.  Oh and a secret for everyone, yes I get on her last nerve also.  I know, hard to believe.   As I get off my soapbox I am brought back to where I am sitting as I type this, Arkhangelsk, Russia.  I never in my wildest dreams would have ever thought I would go to Russia in my life much less 5 times in less than a year with hopefully one trip left.  All of these miles traveled so I get the chance to be a dad.  This is not the plan that I had for my life.  But I am so proud and happy for the plan that God set in motion for me.  It is truly a blessing to be able to have the opportunity to be a daddy to Daniel.  He is a sweet little boy that I cherish even with the brief amount of time I have spent with him.  Am I going to mess up at times being a dad?  Sure I will, but I have to learn and move on.  As long as I keep Daniel's best interest in the decisions that I make concerning him the rest will work out.  Does that mean that there are not going to be hard times?  Nope, sorry to say there are going to be a lot of them.  I am sure that I am going to get to hear the dreaded phrase "I hate you" some time during my life from my precious son.  I regretfully remember saying that to my father and more than likely those of you reading this have said the same at one time or another to your parents.  I just pray that some day Daniel will get on the other side of that and be like me and regret that I ever said something like that to my dad.  He has been a great man for an example of what a real dad and what a real man can be.  Is he a perfect man?  No he is not.  Is he a good man?  There are no men that are any finer.  I want to say thank you to my dad, Rudy Williams, for being the man that he has been and the man that he continues to be.  I can't wait to see him as a grandpa.  This Sunday is Father's Day.  For me I pray that it gets to be my first, I will be able to answer that after court on Friday.  But this sunday is also going to be Grandfather's Day in my book.  And if you want to top that off with one more thing June 16th is my dad's birthday.  I hope that I get to give him a best present of being a grandfather.   Please continue to keep us in your prayers.  We have tried to have a strong face throughout this whole journey but this has truly been the hardest thing I have ever tried to do.  The amazing thing is that through all of it things in our life continues to get better.  We are in a better place in our marriage than we have ever been.  We are stronger as a couple and also stronger is our friendship than we have ever been.  Now does that mean that we never argue???  Nope, we still argue, that is part of being with someone.  But I love Ashley more today than any other day in the history of time.  She is my best friend and she is the mother of my children.  I pray that anyone that is reading this has a best friend like I have.  If you don't and you are married work on making that person your best friend.  This journey would not have been the same without my Ashley.  So we push forward!!!  We get to go see Daniel again today to play again and then tomorrow we go to court.  I think we are oddly at peace with going to court tomorrow but at the same time we are nervous about it.  I don't know how to describe that set of emotions but they are all jumbled together.  May God Bless everyone of you reading these words.  If you have a quick moment please say a prayer for all of us, Ashley and I and of course Daniel.  Please also say a prayer for Roman, if it weren't for Roman we would not be sitting in this hotel room right now.  

June 15th is coming!

We have another court date!  I will fully admit that I'm more than a little nervous as 10 AM June 15th will be here before we know it.  I am hopeful that our trip to court this time will not be a repeat of the same nightmare we had in the first three months of this year.  How much has changed in a year!  And yet, how much is still very much the same.

I just returned last week from a two week vacation to see my family in Texas.  It was nice to be distracted for a little while.  Wonderful to play with neice and newphews.  Lovely to catch up with a few old friends.  It brought much needed relief from daily looking at clothes that have never been worn...a baby bed in which no little head has rested.  And just when I was beginning to wonder how many more distractions I would need to get through the rest of this journey, I had a slow awakening.

I was sitting at the breakfast table with my grandpa.  Sunlight was streaming in and he was, as he always does, listening very intently as though he had something to learn from me.  Grandpa has always embodied Emerson's "Every man I meet is my superior in some way.  In that, I learn of him." Naturally, we were talking about Roman and Daniel and the dichotomy of all the inherent emotions.  Then he mentioned Samuel.  My stomach recoiled.  You must understand that Brock and I have not been pillars of strength and faith that so many are so quick to attribute to us.  I've been downright angry.  I have felt ambushed.  I feel as though my faith has made me look a fool.  I won't go into our private rantings, but suffice it to say that there have been many moments in these last fews months that have been dark with anger and resentment.  When Grandpa mentioned Samuel, I recoiled because it was yet another fresh slash at my already broken heart.  If you aren't familiar with the story of Samuel, it's found in the I and II books of Samuel in the Bible.  I Samuel opens with a godly man named Elkanah with two wives-yea, I know, I don't get it either.  One of them had sons and daughters and the other, Hannah had none because the LORD had closed her womb.  Elkanah loved Hannah more than the other wife and Hannah's "sister wife" provoked her to iritate her since she was barren.  I imgaine that poor woman was jealous of her husband's love for Hannah.  And I can all too easily empathize with Hannah's despair.  An empty womb...the inability to provide a giggling, healthy baby for her husband.  I know the emptiness and longing.  I know the confusion of not having an answer when you ask, "Why not me?"  I know the tears she cried when she went to the temple to pray for a child.  I have cried those very tears.  And then the LORD had mercy on her, opened her womb and she experienced the miracle of having little feet kick in her belly, little tumblings that felt like flutterings.  She got to experience the wonder of feeling her son, the manifestation of her husband's adoring love, grow inside her.  I never felt those feelings for Roman in my womb, but I felt them all in my heart.  And my heart echoed Hannah's prayer centuries after she prayed it.  "I prayed for this child and the LORD has granted me what I have asked of him" (I Sam. 1.27)  That's why I recoiled.  Yes, I did pray and I was certain that Roman was the answer to my many months of prayer.  I was convinced and I felt utterly betrayed.  But that Tuesday morning at my grandparent's table, with the sunlight streaming in, I felt another softer voice asking me to abandon for just a moment the distractions and walk a little further down that path.  It whispered to my heart.

"What's the rest of that story, Ashley?"

After Hannah had weaned Samuel, she brought him to the priest Eli and consecrated him to the LORD.  She offered Samuel back to the LORD and saw him once a year when she went for the annual old testament sacrifice. 

"Ashley, Hannah didn't get to parent Samuel either.  Can you trust God to provide an Eli for Roman?  You can still love him like your son.  Just trust God to provide for him."

And then there was this peace that passes understanding-or as I like to say-a peace that make absolutely no sense.  The good news for Hannah is that God gave her three more sons and two more daughters.  I know that none of them took the place of Samuel, but I also believe that each of them brought a complete sense of pleasure at each of their arrivals into this world.  I look at the story of Job and all that he lost and that God gave him more in the second half of his life than he did in the first, but the losses that he had were still incredible.  I'm certain he still mourned the loss of his first round of children.  And I'm sure that he deeply loved and cherished the second set.  We don't deserve to be excused from immense pain any more than we deserve any of the precious gifts we get.  And even though my faith has been shaken to the core, I still have to cling to the promise that my God still has a good plan.  I am hope-filled that the plan includes little Daniel-the little boy who hugged our neck so sweetly that his little arms hugged our hearts, too.  Precious and tender Daniel. 

I want to close with one more story, more than anything so I don't forget it someday.  One of my old roommates was having a Scentsy party and had invited some women from her small group.  She had shared our story with people in the small group and as a result, we had people we've never met before praying for us.  I had the privilege of meeting one of these prayer warriors at the party.  She told me that she was crying and praying on our behalf asking the same "Why?!" questions that I have asked repeatedly-oh the precious feeling of actually knowing that people felt our burden that intensely!  She said that she felt like Jesus spoke very clearly to her and said, "I know.  I've cried those tears, too."  I've known as long I can remember that God is a God of compassion and that He stores up our tears.  I know He knows so much more than I do and that, even when it doesn't look like it, He still "...causes all things to work together for good for those who love Him and who are called according to His purpose" (Roman 8.28)  I also know that my mind cannot comprehend why all of this happened and I know that I might not know this side of heaven.  And I know that my God knows that I don't understand it all either.  If He didn't step in to do something nine months ago, there is a reason.  There is a purpose.  But to know that my all-knowing, all-loving Jesus has cried the same tears I have...the tears of exhaustion from the fight....the tears of anguish about Roman's future...  But I don't believe He could have cried the tears of confusion, of helplessness, and despair. He's not confused.  He's not cruel.  He's not helpless.  He's not causing havoc for havoc's sake.  And I don't believe He's cried tears of despair because even in these, there is a redemptive story that hasn't been finished.  He's still got a plan.  I don't have to understand.  I just trust Him for the strength to get through whatever we will face next.  I will trust Him to still have a perfect plan for Roman's life, for Daniel's life and for our life.

Beauty from Ashes

Life shouldn't have to look like it does sometimes.  We should be able to grow up in happy homes, find true love, make babies and all live happily ever after with days filled with purpose and work that is more joy than job.  We aren't designed to struggle with lonliness and heartache.  This world is broken.  And yet, hope can still spring new.  Beauty can still rise up from the ashes.

Our emotions in the last month have been a jumbled, tangled mess.  In a single hour, feelings of tentative hopefulness can be deflated by overwhelming uncertainity and then salved with reminders that, in spite of everything we have been through, our good God still has a good plan.  I've been heartbroken, I've been scared, I've been hope-filled, I've been resolute and I've been shaky.  I've been angry, I've been peace-filled and I've been despondent.  It seems like there isn't a single emotion in the spectrum that we have not lighted upon for even a brief snippet.  Looking backward, I miss Roman with every fiber of my being and, while I know logically that we could not have done anything more, I feel responsible that this little guy is still in an orphanage without a mommy and a daddy there.  Looking forward, I am more and more excited about Daniel and the progress that we are making to bring him to a forever home.  Where every step in the last six months of Roman's story brought us a new obstacle, it almost feels like we are being carried by a gentle current through this part of Daniel's story.  Things have fallen into place with remarkable ease.  We've reconnected with the people who helped us with paperwork in Roman's story who were eager and ready to help with Daniel's.  The court in Murmansk would not release the paperwork they had and when we were first told about this, it felt like a horse had kicked us in the stomach.  We would have to redo our FBI background checks, our psychological evaluations, our financial statements and, since so many months had passed, we would need an updated copy of our homestudy.  It seemed like every scrap of paper that had been so incredibly challenging to get the first time had to be redone.  We pulled up our cell phone records for the contact we had made through the Secretary of State's office for help with the fingerprints and, while he did not remember us, he was willing to help us again.  The psychologist who helped us with the evaluation still had our records on file and  was able to fit us in quickly.  Our case worker came to our house the next week for an updated homestudy, and, since writing letters of employment had become routine at this point for home office, we were able to get that in order quickly also.  Everything came in or had come in by April 24th, just in time for us to take it with us to St. Louis on the 25th on our way to the airport for the Bahamas.  Finally, a trip that didn't require snowboots and a visa!  Brock had earned the trip through work and I don't think either of us realized how desperately we needed to be away for just a little while.  Brock had made a connection through a friend of a friend in Washington DC who was able to get our fingerprints apostilled and overnighted back to us, thus saving us the eight week waiting period.  It no longer feels like we are dancing the one step forward, two steps back.  We are moving forward.  Without too much drama and without too much delay. 

Both Brock and I have had  broken hearts before.  The feeling that we'd never be able to feel a certain way again is one that is familiar to us.  In those days, we never would have dreamed that by God saying "no" to one story meant that He was saying "yes" to another one.  In a strange way, the familiarity of those feelings is comforting to me now.  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Daniel is a precious little boy.  I have seen a sweet nature in him and have been mesmerized by his joy in his play and the reflective way he seems to take in his enviroment.  I have finally started having dreams about his tender smile and his delicate little body in my arms.  But to be completely open and honest, there is still a part of me that is scared to give my heart completely to this little boy.  We have reason to hope and we have experience to make us cautious.  I know though, that if I had allowed fear to dictate my emotions when Brock and I were dating that I wouldn't have gotten to experience the incredible gift God had given me in a best friend and husband.  In the same way that we both celebrate the families that God has given to the people with whom our lives were once entwined, we pray feverently that God would provide a family for the little boy with whom we have been entwined.  So maybe Roman's legacy to us taught us preseverance because we would not have been in the right country at the time that Daniel's referral became available.  Roman will forever be our son in prayer and we will keep trusting God for whatever comes next in Daniel's story. 

So yes, failed adoptions are just another one of the many things that aren't fair in this life.  But I do know this:  there have been far more blessings in my life that I have not deserved than there have been burdens that I've had to bear.  We were never promised a life free from pain and conflict.  I've just been promised that I have a God who still causes ALL things to work together for His glory.  Our story isn't over yet.

Our Open Window

It has been ten days.  We have been sifting through waves of emotions and trying to deal as honestly as we could with each one as it came.  Anger, heartbreak, frustration, despair, an overwhelming sense of loss and disbelief.  And somewhere in those waves, the faintest flicker of pure, undefiled  hope.

We have been silent for the last week with intention.  We needed time to prepare for what was going to happen next in our life and time to say good-bye to our Roman.  He will always be our Roman.  Our first son.  Nothing will ever take his place in our heart.  And yet, at the same time, our hearts aren't dead and we believe firmly that God can create new pockets in our hearts for other children.  We are on the brink of such a miracle.

After court we stood in the freezing cold listening with half deaf ears as our ladies spoke in rapid Russian.   We didn't understand their words, but their tones spoke volumes of their disbelief and heartache.  No one knew what to say to us, so we just stood by the side.  Lost and alone.  The cold was creeping into our bones adding discomfort to misery.  Was this really all there was to be to this story?  Did we really waste two years of our lives?  We had already decided that there was no way that we would have the strength to adopt again unless God literally dropped a child into our laps.  That left fertility treatments as our only other option and I was two years older than we had started this.  We fought as hard as we could for our son and the fight was over.  We were exhausted and completely spent.  Wasn't there supposed to be a reward for perseverance?  But I think we were exactly where we were supposed to be for the next chapter of our life.

When we were dropped off at our hotel room, we posted the judge's decision on FaceBook and we were immediately met with waves of condolences, encouragement and empathy.  Halfway around the world, we were completley alone, but so many people wrapped us in virtual love.  We took turns crying and holding each other as we cried.  We felt abandoned and forgotten and at the same time, we very much felt the prayers of our loved ones.  And then our phone rang.

Irina had just heard the news.  It was 7 AM in Texas and she relayed the grief that everyone in the agency was feeling for us.  Then she presented us with an opportunity that we almost missed out on because of our grief.

"I know this is not the most oportune time, and if you aren't ready we completely understand.  But you are in Russia now and there is another little boy in another region who just became available in the international database.  This region is much more adoption friendly and we have a good working relationship with them.  The boy's name is Daniel."

With a promise to think about it over the next couple of hours and permission to forward limited information to us, we hung up and agreed to at least consider it.  How could we be thinking of another child when we haven't even finished saying good-bye to Roman?  There was nothing else we could do in our quest to bring Roman home, but it didn't feel right.  Give us wisdom, LORD!  A FaceBook notification popped up on my iPad and someone, at just the right moment had offered the platitude, "Just remember when God closes a door, He opens a window."  Ten minutes earlier that would have been salt in an open wound.  We desperately wanted the little boy trapped behind the door.  We didn't want to move on to another window.  But at that moment, such an amazing sense of clarity and peace came over us.  We were presented with a little boy who needed a mommy and a daddy and through no fault of his, we were still available for the position.  We had five days left in Russia.  The very least we could do for this precious little boy was meet him.  All children are precious and all children deserve a mommy and a daddy and this little one had neither. 

Forty-eight hours later with only about five hours of scattered sleep, we were sitting in an airport in Murmansk on our way to St. Petersburg where we would have a nine hour layover before flying to Arkhangelsk.  Saying our final good-byes to Tatiana and Denis was heartwrenching.  They walked with us as far as they could go through airport security before we got caught up in the flurry of removing shoes and coats and scanning bags and bodies.  We turned around and got one last glimpse over a sea of Russian heads, waved and once again felt tears well up in our eyes.  These two had become our friends and there was a good chance we may never see them again.  The Russians have seemed to us to be a stoic people and here we were babbling and crying like a couple of crazy Americans, willing each other to stay strong. 

When we landed in St. Petersburg, we were met by Natasha and the "man behind the curtain", Andrei.  There was heaviness in their eyes and we knew that they were hurting with us, and even more for the little boy who wasn't going to be going to his forever home next month.  We sat in the corner of a airport cafe and processed through everything we had been through and what we were about to go through in this new region.  I don't remember many of the words they said, but I will never forget the depth of their pain.  These people have devoted their lives to helping children and we got caught in the dreadful and unfortunate political web that they fight on a regular basis.  And they keep fighting because of the little hearts who need a home and little skinned knees that need a mommy to kiss and make better and little heads that need to lay on a pillow at night and know that they will wake up loved and fed and safe.  These are the people in the trenches for these young lives.  We were told things that gave us hope that this region could be different if we were ready to proceed and we were given grace that understood if we weren't ready to be that vunerable again.  Open minds and open hearts.  That was the least we could do for Daniel.

Monday morning we got up early to bright sunshine and new hope.  Our newest translator, Anatasia, met us in the hotel lobby and we were off to meet with Sergei at the Ministry of Education (our third Sergei!) and immediately felt at ease with his bright smile. He gave us a brief medical summary and then gave us permission to go meet this unexpected blessing.

When we arrived at the baby home, we followed our sweet translator through the labyrinth of the much larger baby home into a small room.  We met with a doctor with a round face and dancing eyes.  Among the medical diagnosis she gave us, she told us that Daniel was usually very shy around strangers and no sooner did she tell us this, than the door opened and a little knobby kneed boy tentatively came in the room.  His little presence filled the entire room as all eyes were on him.  We were cautious and wanted him to be comfortable so, without moving too much, we sat on the floor and rolled a ball to him.  He rolled it back gleefully and with each roll he seemed to gain more and more enthsiasm.  His laughter was contagious and the most soothing sound we had heard in a very long time.  After a few minutes, I crept a little closer, all the while gauging his reaction, and after a few more minutes, I held out my hands and whispered, "Daniil".  He charged across the room and flung himself with abandon in my outstretched arms.  He laid his head on my shoulder, wrapped his tiny arms around my shoulders and melted against me. 

"This little boy is going to heal my heart."

He stayed there for what felt like a lifetime before pulling back to study my face.  Brock had eased on the floor beside us and he held out his arms to Daniel.  "Daniil"  And the little miracle leaped from my lap into Brock's and laid his head on Brock's shoulder and wrapped his little arms around Brock's broad shoulders and my heart tumbled as I watched my wonderful husband's shoulders shake with gentle tears.  He didn't take Roman's place, but he had in such a short amount of time taken root in his very own space.  He was our open window.

The next two days passed in a blur.  We spent a total of about five hours with Daniel.  He is quiet and affectionate, intropective and intelligent.  He worked puzzle after puzzle and we were told that during his free time, he was okay to play with other children, but he really seemed to favor working with educational toys.  He stacked his blocks and matched his colors and seemed to take everything in in his own time and in his own way.  We had the opportunity to take him outside during his play time and he just wanted to walk.  We followed him as he went around the baby home three times until he told us he was ready to go back inside.  We were told most mornings during his outside time he loves to walk around and study the area.  If we let him walk ahead of us a few steps, he'd stop, turn around and make sure that we were still following.  He studied the parked cars we passed, the other children who were out and all the while had a peaceful and utterly contented look on his little face.  They had given him a shovel which he clung to, kicking it with every step as though he was on guard for the home.  He was careful where he would step and would alter his course a few times when he saw ice instead of snow on the ground.  As I said before, he was very affectionate, but also seemed very comfortable to just take things in.    We fell in love all over again.

The name Daniel means "God is my judge".   We know going forward that our hearts may potentially get broken all over again.   But Brock and I still feel very much called to adopt a child from Russia and the events that played out this week, we were told "never happens this way."  Finally!  Something that "never happens" with postive implications.  Also, I had said in a previous blog regarding the anonymous $500 gift left that it was going to be used to change the flights thanks to a delay in the arrival of our visas.  With the snafu at the airport and our flights getting accidentally cancelled, the airline waived those fees.  The cost to fly from Murmansk to Arkhangelsk was 15,000 rubbles which was approximately $496.  Maybe Daniel was part of the grand plan all along.  If we hadn't persevered through every delay in Murmansk, we would not have been in Russia on March 23rd when Daniel had just become available.  It would have been easier to fold into ourselves and protect ourselves from a hurt like this again, but when we shut out pain, we also shut out joy.  Roman will forever be our lesson in perseverance and Daniel is quickly becoming our living reality of courage.  Did you know that every miracle in the Bible is preceeded by the smallest act of obedience?  Moses had to raise his staff over the sea before the Red Sea parted.  The blind man had to wash in the pool before his eyesight was restored.  Maybe, just maybe our miracle was putting our feet on another airplane.  For now, we are praying for wisdom and courage to do what we never thought we could do again.

We aren't Dead so God's not Done

It is 1:26 in the morning. It's been almost 36 hours since we've have the breath knocked out out of our lungs and we know it is going to be a while before deep breaths come naturally again. And that's ok. There is a season and a time for everything. And as much as I want to arch my back and dig in my heels, we are undeniably entering into a season of mourning. Of course our hearts are broken and I also know that we are not the first, nor will we be the last to have our hearts broken. I'm reminded of an illustration I heard years ago though about a breaking heart being similar to broken ice over a waterway. It's dangerous to travel through it and there is risk of damage to a vessel, but if the ice isn't broken, the boat is stuck. My inclination is to cry out to God and ask Him to quickly mend these cracks, but maybe just maybe, instead of them coming back together, grace will fill the holes and our hearts will be bigger on the other side. We can't begin to express our appreciation to each and every single one of you who prayed for us and didn't hide from us. It would have been so easy to do because our situation has to make people uncomfortable. We were supposed to have a happily ever after ending. Every single one of you wanted to believe that perseverance and determination would pay off in the long run. But our story isn't over yet. I don't understand, but I do trust Him still. The way of the cross may still seem foolish to those who do not believe, but it's the only thing that is real in our life right now. We are struggling. Undoubtedly, we feel abandoned by God and feel like we were caught in a cosmic booby trap. But those are just feelings. Fickle feelings. To some extent, I even feel shame. There is a nagging in the back of my brain that we've let everyone down who has followed our story and who has emotionally and financially invested in it. I feel shame that we couldn't do for Roman what every child deserves. And yet, I really do know that God loves that blue eyed cherub far more than we ever could and his story, as well as ours is not over yet. As long as there is breath in our lungs and a heartbeat in our chest, there are still plans for us. He knows the plans He has for us and they are plans to prosper and not to harm us. They are plans to give us a hope and a future. Jeremiah 29.11 We aren't dead, so God's not done. Over and over in my brain. We aren't dead so God is not done. Many of you have asked us to let you know if there is anything at all you can do for us. I know you mean it and I know you probably feel a little lost on what to say and what it is that we could need. The only thing we ask of you all is simple and exceedingly difficult: Do not be angry on our behalf. Anger is a toxic poison that will ruin you from the inside out and our main goal in even inviting you in to share our story has been that God would be glorified. Please don't be angry. ALL things work together for good for those who love the LORD and who are called according to His purpose. Romans 8.28 Tatiana, Nina, Irina, Denis, Oskana, Tatina the court translator, Larissa the second translator, Tatiana the speech therapist, Andre, Irina's husband, Sergei the apartment owner, Sergei the driver, Andrei, Natasha, Roman the driver and Sasha the driver have all been exceedingly kind to us while we have been in country. Irina the social worker cried for us when we were too shocked to shed tears. These people love children and they showed love to us. The agency back home, Irina has walked through this with us step by step, has prayed for us and encouraged us. I sincerely believe they all did everything they knew how to do so that we would not get dropped in the details. I'm not even angry at the judge and the prosecutors. Theirs is an extremely difficlut job that needs to be done. And while cases of child abuse to Russian children by American families has increased, there is more need than ever to be careful. I believe from the core of my being that our judge, Anna, was upset when she gave the verdict. Throughout the entire proceedings, she kept taking her glasses off, rubbing her eyes and honestly looked distraught. We said before and we still stand by our feelings that she really did like us. She even told us after the verdict was read that this was not our fault. She believed we would make good parents. It is customary for families to stand while the verdict is being read, and after she read it, she looked up with sadness in her eyes and asked us to please, please sit down. We've prayed for months now that God would do what was best for Roman. Whatever that looked like. I'm struggling with this now because I cannot believe that the best for Roman is to be in a baby home, but his story isn't over yet either. Our faith would mean nothing if we could not "Praise Him in the storms". Even when it does not make sense to us, our stories are not over yet. There will be a time to change our mourning into joy again, and even this confusing, tangled and heart wrenching chapter in our story will be used for good. It's in our very nature to defend those we care about when we see a seeming misjustice has been done. But please do not allow the toxicity of anger seep in your bones. When it starts, pray. Pray for Roman. Oh, how many tears have been shed over that little boy! An orphan is not supposed to have anyone in this world who will cry over him, and even though you may never meet our son, someday-on the other side-he will get to see the tears of those who loved him through us. Pray for us. We still want to be parents desperately but God is going to have to work in an incredible way. He is in the miracle business. One last thing to share. When we got back to the hotel yesterday afternoon, we were in shock. We did not leave our room for almost thirty hours. Brock sent a message to Tatiana asking her to join us for dinner and she responded that she would be here at 6:30. She brought the Murmansk "team". Denis, with his rich base voice and contagious smile welcomed us with his standard, "Helloooo!" and Tatiana's son who she had told us so much about. He is 10 and he is delightful. We drove to the top of a mountain to see the giant 70 foot statue of a solider over looking the city and Denis showed us in the bay below where his boat was. We took pictures and I had to take deep breaths to overcome the anxiety again. I wanted so desperately for Russia to part of our family's heritage. This is a country rich in heritage and a country of strong and beautiful people. We then went to dinner and this next part I will tell you not for the purpose of puffing ourselves up, but because it was the first time in two days we felt happy. When the bills came for the table, Brock took them both as we had decided to do before we even left our hotel. Tatiana in her Russian accent held out her hand and said, "Please, please we share." No, Tatiana, you all have done so much for our family and this is something we very much want to do for you. We left our rubbles and went to get our coats. Our waitress came rushing over to us with the change, earnestly telling us not to leave. Brock pulled out a few rubbles and gave the rest back to her. Her eyes welled up with tears and she said, "No, no". Brock waved his hand at her, smiled and turned away. The last look I saw on her face was that of a quivering chin. He had tipped her-as he always does-very generously and it had an tremendous impact. I say this not so you can see how incredible Brock is (which it just so happens that he is!) but because in that moment, we felt better than we had felt in a long time. We had the opportunity to bless someone else. My mother used to say, the best way for you to feel good yourself is to do something for someone else. Brock may have felt like he couldn't do what he needed to do to take care of his family after the outcome of the trial, but in that moment, I was so proud that the man God gave me was still one who was reaching out to bless others and in that, taking the beginning steps to lead us down the path to healing. You have been a godly daddy in every sense of the word, Brock, and now more than ever I am grateful for you and trust you as we walk down the uncertain path of our "what next."