when will we travel?

That's the question on everyone's tongues. Frankly, we don't know.

We do know that our attorney in Uganda will be sending us an affidavit to sign soon, and once we return that, our court date will be issued.

A lot of the timing hinges on our definition of "soon." The affidavit will come soon, but our definition of soon in the US isn't the same as the definition of soon in Uganda. As was the case when I lived on the Mexican border, "soon" means different things in different cultures.

So that affidavit that's coming soon?

It could be next week. Or it could be next month. Or it could be longer.

The irony hasn't escaped me: we're struggling to be patient as we wait for Patience and her siblings.

picture thanks to The Archibald Project

I remember those moments of anticipation as we boarded the plane to meet Zoe like it was just last year. {Oh, wait. It was.} In the next week or so, I'm going to blog in more detail about that trip. I just couldn't unpack our journey to Zoe into words until now.

Heck, I couldn't even unpack my bags from the trip until we had been home for two months. True story.

Today, I'm packing bags for our next trip, preparing items we don't need for a while and clothes for our newest children.

And I'm being refined as I wait impatiently for Patience and her brother and sister.

what I just want to scream sometimes: WE'RE NOT HEROES!

We aren't.

I'm just a mom and a wife, roles that I cherish. And I can't possibly live up to the high bar of "hero." Nor do I want to.

When Robbie had his seizure and we were in crisis mode, friends saw our needs and stepped forward: with food, with pajamas for me, with toys for Robbie, and with childcare. Not to mention the encouraging texts and comments and emails.

Simply put, y'all saw our great need and did what you could to help.

That's what Zoe's adoption was for us, and what the adoption of Patience, Philip, and Patricia is. When presented with a great need, we're doing what we can to help.

And?

In helping, we are blessed beyond measure.

Our spunky Asian brings light and love into our home in ways that it didn't exist before her. Her adoption made the gospel more real to our first two children and, if I'm honest, to me. We're not all that selfless, you know. I have gained far more in every way from adoption than I have given.

I have also learned more than I could have expected. Lee and I went on a date last night, thanks to the generosity of a dear friend who kept the young'uns, and ended up at a coffee shop. It started as a sweet time as husband and wife, and then turned into a double date for a bit as precious friends joined us, and finally ended in deep conversation with Chris Marlow and Jeff Goins about orphan care and justice and ways to prevent adoption from being needed in the first place for many children around the world.

That's sort of how my life is. Haphazard, but passionate. Ordinary, but with hints of extraordinary things God is doing all around us. A mix of dirty diapers, physical therapy appointments, and playdates juxtaposed with consultations with denominational leaders about adoption ethics, speaking engagements to train church leaders to include people with special needs in Christian community, and conversations in coffee shops with faithful folks who are also saying yes to God where He leads them in helping with great needs.

A hero? No. I think some people call me and Lee heroes because it's easier to label us heroes than to consider what help they can offer toward bringing God's justice to the great needs all around us.

If you're in Christ, you're following the same Hero God we are. Lee and I? We're not heroes. We're just obeying the Hero as we refuse to just pass on the other side of the road and expect someone else to meet the needs that are before us.

Anyone can do that.

my big helper {also, why I'm not looking forward to school starting in 1.5 weeks}

the long-awaited t-shirt sales!!!

Friends, it's humbling to ask you to join with us in bringing three siblings out of their orphanage and into our family. As much as I'd love to be able to fund our adoption without asking for help, we merely have the love and creativity to double our number of children... but not the funds to get it done.

God created us for community, though. As we move forward to do one of the most challenging things we've ever done and probably ever will do, we are encouraged and emboldened by those of you who are linking arms with us in prayer, in hugs, in smiles, and - yes - in donations.

Thank you.

In our final leg of fundraising, we're selling these shirts, designed by our dear friend Angie. (She's also the one who will be traveling with us to help with the kiddos!) This is a PRE-ORDER; after about a week or two of pre-orders, we'll submit the order to our printer, who will take another week and a half to complete the shirts, and then we'll get them out ASAP... which, if you do all the math of that, means your shirt won't arrive until the beginning of September.

(Hopefully, we'll be in Uganda then! We'll have a friend prepped to ship the shirts out in case we're not here to do it ourselves.)

How much? It'll be $15 per shirt. In our shop, you have the option of local pick-up with no shipping charge or shipping for $5 per shirt for the first one and $1 per shirt after that.We're offering one design in a children's tee, and the rest are adult.

Enough of the details, though. Here's where you can SHOP!

{Also, our auction is live: CLICK HERE for that.}

how are you doing?

Hundreds of people have given to our adoption.

No, not our adoption. Their adoption.

THANK YOU!

This isn't about us. If it were fully about me, I'd be buying the cute goods in our last auction and the one starting Wednesday instead of getting them donated to sell to others. I'd be playing Barbie and reptiles and peek-a-boo more with Jocelyn and Robbie and Zoe and filling out paperwork less for the newest ones. I'd spend more time exploring the neighborhood with the three I have and less time limping around as I wait out the week I have left before restarting my RA meds following the live vaccines we received last week.

It's worth the price we're paying, though, just as God considered my adoption into His family worth the price paid by Christ on the cross.

While I know God's adoption of us was far more costly than any of our earthly adoptions, today the expense of this current adoption is on my mind.

The financial aspect is in my thoughts, but that's not weighing as heavily as it used to. So many precious friends and family members and strangers have sacrificed financially for us, and I think the odds are good that we'll raise the final funds we need through this final auction - starting tomorrow - and t-shirt sales - starting once I have the energy to stop by the last couple of printers to decide who can provide the best product for the best price - and a Shop2Adopt event - in which friends selling Mary Kay and 31 and Tupperware and Pampered Chef and a few others are donating their profits to us - and a few grants we haven't heard from - though one will notify us in the next couple of days. Many of you will receive thank you notes, many of you already have, and some of you sadly won't because currently Project Hopeful isn't able to provide a list of donors for us at this time. Know this, though: we are thankful beyond what words can express. 

The cost of adding three more children to our brood will be high. Feeding and loving six, including three who have experienced devastating loss, while keeping clean clothes on them and clean plates in the cabinets and clean enough for us (though maybe not for the health department) conditions throughout the house? I really can't imagine what that will be like.

But, as crazy as this sounds, I can't wait to find out.

I can't wait to gather all six together, holding and kissing and cuddling and cleaning and playing with and praying with and loving them all. I long for the massive Pluto to be filled with precious cargo in a half dozen car seats and boosters. I am strangely looking forward to the jet lag and the hours of travel with little ones and the lack of air conditioning and the mosquito nets and the constant reminders to our current ones not to open their mouths when we're bathing them, because they can't drink the water.

I know it will be costly to all of us, but honestly? I'm not scared.

I'm just thankful and jittery with excitement.

Ready to get through this adopting thing and on to the parenting thing.

And, most of all, full of longing for the babes in my heart to join the ones in my home.