an ordinary day

dear bella ~  today is an ordinary day.  it is one of those mid-january days filled with quiet and cold.   i did have to get up early, pack a few lunches, check a few backpacks and shuffle four tired kids out the door, but that is most days.  that is my normal... my ordinary. but now it is quiet and i am home this morning with nothing pressing on my list,  nothing exciting on my calendar,  and nothing exceptional in my day.  i have been sitting here with my coffee and my dog and my morning and i have been thinking about you.  i just wanted you to know that.  i wanted you to know how somedays my first thoughts are of you.  often as i wake in the morning, i think of you preparing for bedtime in china.  i pray that you are wearing a warm, comfy sleeper.  i pray that you are cuddled up with a soft blanket and listening to the soothing sounds of nighttime.  i kind of doubt this is the case, but i pray that for you.   i want you to know i would pretty much do anything to skip over to china and be the woman who rubs your back or smooths your hair as you drift off.   when it is my turn to close my tired eyes, i often consider what you might be doing 13 hours ahead of us.  you are usually close to lunch time in your day.  there is this wee bit of comfort in knowing that.  i imagine your days in the orphanage are often rather ordinary days.  i'm fairly certain they aren't days filled with pony rides or ice cream cones or visits to the circus.  i really know so little about orphanages and exactly what happens in the course of the day. perhaps that is in some way a blessing.  a few nights ago your sisters, emily and sarah, and i sat on their beds and talked about what we thought your day was like.   we tried...but none of us really had much of an idea.  our talk quickly shifted to what it might be like when you are finally in our home. under our roof.  in our arms.  that was easier subject material.  that was something we could put colors and scents and textures to.  our heads were immediately filled with thoughts of small buckled shoes and smocked dresses and baby doll strollers.  we could hear your quiet voice and maybe even your loud cries.  we could smell the fresh, soft scent of your hair after a bath and could feel your chubby hand in our own.  the joy of your giggle and the delight in your laughter are something for which we already long.  emily - your very oldest sister - made me promise we would dress you in only the cutest of clothes. she said specifically,  "none of these hand-me-down things, mom!"...not for our precious baby sister.  i fear you will be treated like a queen.  oh my!  i know i should immediately begin combatting that mindset...but i won't.  i can't.   i have this hunch you just might have two older sisters and two older brothers at your majesty's beck and call within a short time of making your entrance.  i won't let you run-a-muck with this, mind you, but i suspect i won't be able to fully halt or mask my secret delight in watching you rule your older and obedient subjects. oh yes, we shall see...someday.
someday i will walk through the door of your orphanage. someday i will stand in the very room in which you tonight sleep.  someday i will see where you have spent almost 2 years of your life.  i will know more then. the walls might not talk, but they will show signs of the life you have lead.  on that someday i will be the strange lady who holds you in her arms and carries you out of that orphanage door.  i will be the woman who will walk you into the china sunshine.  i will take you to a park and place you in a swing.   i will sit with you and watch birds or bumble bees or butterflies. i will gladly and eagerly watch you.  i hope that even on that first day we might smile together.  i wish i could send this letter ahead - an introduction of sorts.  i wish i could announce our visit well before whisking you away from all that you know.  it will be hard.  i have dreamt a few times about what "gotcha day" will look like for us.  trying to prepare myself, i envision you crying, maybe screaming...clinging to the one who brings you to us.  i see fear in your eyes and resistance in your body.  i allow myself to see this because i know it might very well look like that.  anything less will be better.  we will take you any way you come to us that morning. when you can't hold fast to us, we will hold fast to you.  we might even at some point feel like darting out the door in our fraility and fear.  but we won't.   i want to tell you that right now.  we won't. being abandoned once is one too many times for any child.  along the paperwork road we had to submit a letter of application to china.  we received specific instruction on what needed to be written.  one phrase that we had to copy and include was, "we promise to not abandon or abuse this child."   that is all they wanted us to say on the subject.  i found that phrase sorely lacking.  completely insufficient. utterly inept. my wordy self was prepared to write a paragraph, an essay, even a treatise on the fact that we would not abandon or neglect.  i could have written song lyrics and poetry and at least two term papers on our promise. instead, today, i will write this letter.  this letter which no chinese official requires or will ever read.  this letter which you will not read anytime soon.  this letter which i wish to send ahead, but know that instead it must stay and wait for you.  perhaps someday you will have the chance to read some of my words and know how much you were loved even before you arrived.  i would like you to know that...someday.  but today, well, this is just an ordinary day.  i am planning ordinary things. but in the midst of my normal-everyday-stuff, i will think of you.  i will think about how God is working to place you in our home. how He goes before you and how He will come behind us.  a year ago i had no idea we might be anticipating a little girl from china.  a baby sister.  a toddler. a third daughter. a fifth child.  another heart to love. another hand to hold.  another gift to treasure.  and all i can think of on this very ordinary day is ...how very extraordinary.
                                                                                                                  ~  with love, your mom

grand prize winners

i can't promise it is always pleasant to be the recipient of a letter from the United States government.  even if we are anticipating good news the mad dance of butterflies can be felt in our stomach while slicing into the envelope.  similar to when we were beckoned to the principal's office as  middle schoolers.  depending on the colorfulness of our prepubescent years, we may or may not have been able to come up with one offense, but boy did our minds work overtime trying to recall every possible misstep.  through my school years, i was called to mr. borchart's office many times.  only on one or two occasions (if i remember correctly) was it for trouble.  but there was never a time, however, when the mere summons didn't cause some serious nerve racking rumbling and tumbling.  it was about authority. it was about power.  mr. borchart had a firm handle on both.  he had the authority and the power to bring good or bad to my world and there was very little i could do about it...(or so i thought).
this was very much how i felt tearing into our letter from the US government this afternoon.  it was the letter we had been anticipating.  we expected it would hold good news of our immigration approval.  but, there was alway that chance...  that chance we could have messed up.  failed to submit something.  neglected to sign in the correct color ink on the correct line. we had checked our paperwork and rechecked and then rechecked again.   i am a firm believer, however, in operator error.  i like a little wiggle room when i am at task.  i knew early on i was much better suited for a career in horsehoes than one in neuro-surgery.  i could get credit for being close in horseshoes...not so much with brain surgery.  i am especially grateful, however, that we are not all created in this same way.  i really do prefer my airplane pilot and my varicose vein surgeon to have a great love of precision and accuracy. in fact, i count on it.  one of my favorite math concepts, perhaps my only favorite math concept, was rounding or approximating.  i loved that.  "678 is about 700."  that worked great for me.  it works for me even today.  when rick asks me what i spent at target...i just use that favorite math concept and round (down).  it's quite a lovely tool.  he caught on to that trick years ago, though, and now knows that if i say this new lamp cost about $60 ...it was most likely $69 dollars.   as a teacher, i seemed  never to be able to pass out the correct number of papers per row to my students.  i never worried if there were exactly 11 sheets for 11 students.  i realize that sounds quite sloppy.  it reeks of inexactitude.  it drove some of my more analytical students crazy.  but in the middle of discussing macbeth, i would smile sweetly and respond, "this is english class, not math class."  i did try to be a little more careful when averaging their grades come semester's end.  i tried.
so as you can see, i had reason to doubt the content of this letter.  i was also pretty sure that if something had to be redone or resubmitted for the US government  it wasn't going to be a timely thing.  i had no illusions that they would hurry up something for someone that had already messed up.  so, it was with some slightly shaky fingers that i slit the envelope. i carefully unfolded the document and scanned it repeatedly.  it took me about a half hour to decide if it was good or bad news.  seriously.  remember this is a government issued notice.  we receive publisher's clearance house notifications all the time announcing us to be the grand prize winner....the next millionaire!  the bold, glittery, enormous words jump out at us as soon as the paper is extracted from it fold.  those exuberant announcements come printed on slick textured and multi-colored paper...with stickers and holograms and our own names emblazoned upon them: Jody McNatt - you're a winner!  you've won! we've won and we didn't even know we had entered anything to win. crazy. 
so there i sat with my 100% bona-fide-government-official and serious-looking document.  small print. evenly spaced and seriously sedate.  all black and white no nonsense. lots and lots of words and numbers and codes.  i scanned and rescanned the notice attempting to find one phrase that announced us to be winners.  and there it finally was:

You have been approved to adopt one child from the following Convention country: China.

one line in the middle of the paper. one line in a sea of unintelligible government-ese.  i caught my breath.  standing in my kitchen i said out loud,  "this is good. i think this is good." and it was. it was only one more step in a long process.  we are certainly not done.  there is more to do and more approval to anticipate. but at least for today, we won! we have been approved.  we aren't going to be millionaires...but we certainly do feel like grand prize winners.

neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow...

i climbed into my yukon xl with all of its four-wheel- drive-power-and-performance and i braved the roads. treachorous.  hazardous.  perilous.  it was time for sheer courage, will and determination to link arms with a stylish pair of boots and head out. nothing would separate me from getting this next batch of adoption papers to the fed ex office this morning. not even a snow day in atlanta, georgia. not even the guy who literally crept at a snail's pace out of our subdivision.  not even the policeman who had closed the road due to ice and told me to, "go around."  i would happily go around, but i would get there.  nothing would keep me from growing a day closer to adopting bella.  i had no choice but to zip up my coat and dodge southern drivers on my way to the fed ex office. i was crossing my fingers that they would be open and in business.  it was time to trust that old postman's adage, "neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow...."  this morning we woke up to a winter wonderland.  okay, well, maybe that is a bit over the top.  we woke up to a light dusting of snow.  it looks as if some gigantic sky fairy flew above us last night with  fistfuls of powdered sugar.  it sort of looks like my kitchen countertops after the girls have been busy baking.  you get the picture.  we are not talking knee deep.  we are not talking shoveling or snowplows.  we are barely talking boots, and yet, everything in atlanta will close down today.  schools cancelled last night, due to "wintry conditions."   i am certain the lines at our local market were long with fretful southerners clutching bags of bread and cartons of milk.  i have never seen a town hunker down quicker with the waltzing of a few white flakes in the sky.  as a northern girl who lived smack dab in the middle of the chagrin valley snowbelt (by the way, smack dab is an authentic southern term) i am always amused at this hyper-type-reaction to even the chance of a few flurries.  the screeching halt in atlanta is really kind of funny to a girl who (at age 16) drove herself 40 mintues to school with sandbags in her trunk, metal chains on her tires and a younger sister in her passenger seat.  speaking of screeching halt, last night while we were stopped at a major intersection  there was this terrible screeching sound.  it was a mixture of metal grinding and the road squealing...i am sure it had a few curse words mixed in from those closeby.   we heard it well before seeing the tiny white toyota come sliding toward the intersection.  apparently the driver saw the light change and decided to slam on his brakes.  not such a good idea when there are "wintry conditions."  he somehow managed to miss the 400 cars (atlanta traffic)stopped in the intersection.  but i have to say my father's defensive driving lectures replayed in my mind, yet again.

 i began this piece telling you about yet another trip to the fed ex office.  today's purpose was to send most of our adoption dossier to our agency in nashville.   we are still waiting for our immigration clearance, but, in the meantime, all of the dossier papers have to go through a "verification" process.  clearly there are adoption officials with the sole purpose being to find new and creative ways to shuffle papers.  all of the official documents which we have busily collected and have had carefully notartized, now have to travel through another parade of notaries, i.e., verification.  i guess this is a "just to be sure" kind of thing.  it does make me wonder though;  is this process to make sure they are sure or are they testing us to make sure we are sure.  this next step will include checking the county, state, and country levels on all documents.   i really cannot even wrap my mind around what that all entails.  i am just thankful my part in this is only sending the entire bundle off to our agent.  he will take care of the rest.  today it seems to be about trusting that the fed ex system follows the same adage as the post office, "neither rain, nor sleet, nor a (light dusting of) snow".... will keep these papers from nashville.    i drove home thinking about the things which could have kept us from bella grace xue.  there have been so many hurdles.  so many hoops to jump through.  so many planets which have had to align.  i am quite glad we didn't know all of this up front.   God has clearly given us just what we could handle for the moment.  most of all, He has given us the unbelievable, unwavering sense that He is in control of the hurdles, the hoops and the planets.  He is even in control of the wintry conditions. He continues to show us that He is coordinating our union with this little girl in china, just as He perfectly coordinated our coming to Him.  there is nothing, no nothing, that can keep Him from us.  nothing that can keep Him hunkered down. there is nothing which brings Him to a screeching halt.  there is nothing that can separate us from His great love.

 "who shall separate us from the love of Christ?

shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?....no, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. 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..."  ~ romans 8:35-39

now, off to buy myself some milk, bread and a snowplow.

A Long Way

I still claim this whole adoption journey to be the fault of my friend Beverly. She was the one. 

She was the one that brought us the file of a little girl in China named Xue Zhu Zhang.  Beverly, in her most matter of fact, and funny, funny way, dropped her file into the lap of my computer and said, "Well...here she is!"  

Bev is the one that continued to echo the already whisper in my heart, "why not?"   She and her daughter, Neilly, even threatened, "if you don't, we will."  Her friendship and encouragement is as much a God-Thing as is this child we pursue. Beverly is unwavering in her pursuit of life and in her support of us.  She has this spark of humor which truly lightens the heaviness of all the scary stuff that straps itself to adoption. In the past months we have had to process a long list of "what ifs." 

We've had a lot to consider in our pursuit of baby Zuzu. Her serious heart condition, her abandonment, the lack of access to her medical records, her prognosis, the psychological effects of institutionalization, her developmental delays,  her possible limitations.  We had to sit, individually, and watch 8 hours of online Hague Convention training which basically detailed every worse case scenario imaginable. Included in this online training were pages - no volumes - of medical and psychological reading which served to broadcast the message:  This Won't Be Easy. Rick and I have had to fill out pages and pages and pages of paperwork and answer countless questions about these doubts.  We have consulted with many medical professionals.  Some of whom have been encouraging and some who have shared grave concerns.  

We knew from the very beginning Zuzu was not a sure thing. We were even told she "was a risk." We were instructed to, "think of your other children."  We have been reminded that a child with these kinds of medical needs "will change your lifestyle."  We have even been asked, "do you know what you are doing?"  We knew other families were encouraged to decline her file. I write "decline her file" because somehow it seems gentler.  Somehow less harsh to decline a file, than it does a child. What a tremendous responsibility and burden that comes with having to choose.  I know full well that grief, as we slept scant hours over that weekend in July when we had to decide. I know, without a doubt, that these other families did the right thing. They prayerfully followed God's direction.  They had good reason. There is not an ounce of judgment. In fact,  i am so very thankful for their courage.

Okay, so back to Beverly. She's for sure going to give me a good southern tongue lashing when she finds that I have written about her.  But, oh well, I will cross that bridge with her later. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know how special is this lady and share the kind of thing she passes along to me every now and then.  She seems to know. She just seems to know when I need a nugget of extra encouragement. I wish I could share with you all of her little anecdotes and messages ---there is a particularly good entry back on July 21st if you want to go in search of it. That Beverly entry has something to do with her singing about birds in the shower! 

Beverly and David adopted their third child, Lilia, from the Ukraine just a couple of years ago. My funny and brave friend left for the Ukraine with money taped to her body and they went in search of this little girl.  She could have used about 10 Beverlys herself to cheer her on. They were there for weeks. It was dismal and dark and beyond depressing. They visited orphanages and had to make quick decisions. Decisions that mattered. Do you ever feel overwhelmed standing in the grocery store deciding what  to bring home for dinner? Imagine standing in a foreign country, in a desolate orphanage, deciding  which child to bring home? I think that is why she does what she does. I know this is why she is a holder of our sometimes trembling hands. This is why she cheers us on through our doubts and hard questions and weariness in the adoption process. She is not only a gift to us, but she is a gift to the daughter we will someday bring home. 

Beverly is an advocate with an ability to connect deeply and beautifully. Earlier today I received this quick note of encouragement from her:

Today Lilia told me that she loved me SO much and paused, and said," YOU came a LONG way to Ukraine just to get me." 

"Yes, I did, and I would do it all again." 

She then put her toy down and ran to hug me.

As I was putting ornaments in a box several hours later, I was enjoying looking at all of the picture ornaments as usual, and it just hit me that little baby Z's face was looking up at me from our family's Christmas box. It just gave me a thrill all over again ... she belongs in someone's boxes of history. 

I just get excited for you guys all of the time. It's such a delight to have one of God's most precious placed into your home.

Can you see why I love this friend so much? Baby Zuzu is a long way from us right now--the other side of the world, in fact.  And yet, my sweet friend helps me to bridge this distance with her delightful anecdotes and her unwavering hope for our little girl. When so many others continue to focus on the what ifs. God has given me a friend who continues to ask why not?  

We have said over and over again this is not the story of the McNatt family.  It is not even the story of a little girl in China named Zuzu. This is the greater story of the 147 million orphans in our world today.  This is the story that is underlining and bold-facing and italicizing the phrase Why Not. Why Not. Why Not.  

Ultimately, this is the story of our God who had to have an awful long list of what ifs about us ... and yet He (without the help of Beverly) said, Why Not.  

And just like Beverly's little daughter, Lilia, said, "YOU came a LONG way ... just to get me." 

He came and He rescued me, us, all of us. 

Note to Beverly:  Before you give me any grief over this. writing ... consider, first, that I could have added photos!:)

all things new

out with the old... and in with the new.  really? is that truly what we seek come december 31st?  why is it that on new year's eve we are so drawn to the words old and new. endings and beginnings.  not just drawn to them, but mesmerized by the sound of them. no matter how practical our nature, we find ourselves cast under the spell of their newsprint promise.  we spend our final days of the year chewing up these words as if they were verbal cud. turning them over in our mouths and minds and eagerly spitting them out at each other in agreement.  it seems the older i get, the more this holds true. perhaps i am just closer to old and the desire for new grows more and more desperate - a theory which we can debate another time.  in a generation which can barely stand still long enough to ponder anything, we, in a mass collaborative effort, rebel for just one reflective moment at the stroke of midnight.  


as if this midnight has something to do with it.  as if this midnight holds the power to change a lavish stagecoach back into a pumpkin and return a princess to her peasant girl status. as if there is a fairy godmother holding the great treasured clock of all time in her fantastical hands.  as if she is listening intently to our reflections and regrets and resolutions. as if this grandmotherly fairy and her sage, accomplice, father time, plot secretly together for our good.  this stroke of midnight is nothing if not a stroke of genius.  if we could shake the wishes from our heads and the cliches from our writing, we would know deeply the power of this moment is a mere fairytale. but then again, perhaps we are all, on occasion, in need of a little fairytale. we have, afterall, created an entire holiday explicitly for this purpose.  we make much of it. we have teams of people designing cocktail napkins and matching party hats.  noisemakers are tested in quiet rooms and champagne is bottled and labled with the celebratory year.  cheese dip and  sparklers, and even sparkly clothing combine together for this one enchanted evening. 


i know this desire quite well. i am a girl with an extraordinary embrace for fairytales.  i, too, can fall  effortlessly into the hypnotic lull of a good story. i have, on more than one occasion, wept simply because the final chapter in a captivating novel, has come to a close.   friends and family, alike, have dubbed me as a girl wearing rose-colored glasses...a girl who views things with bright eyes.  i am certain i've crossed paths with a critic or two wishing to dunk my ponytailed head in a good dose of reality.  but i also wish that with a quick scribble on a list, i might change old habits, create healthy ones and thus improve the line of my horizon.  i would like to believe that with some exceptional resolve, a resolute spirit and a large glass of champagne i will begin afresh.  anew.  aright.   oh, friends, that sounds not only delightful,  it sounds downright necessary.  don't we all deserve this chance regardless of our past year, our past mistakes, our past failures. our past... in general.


funny that most of us spend our days fighting with this elusive friend, this thing called time.  there's either never enough or perhaps, for some of us, too much.  regardless, most of us tend to contentiously argue our way through it.  and yet, it is the thing in which we are quite willing to place great trust come the year's end.  do we seriously believe that a date on a calendar is worthy of our fear and trembling? the truth is, we are desperately in need of the new.  we all, each one of us, are created to shed the old.  it is how we are made.  it is a beautiful thing.  a necessary thing.  it is a need woven so deeply within us, we cannot ignore it for very long.  it will resurface, if only every new year's eve.  it will.  no one can escape this need to peel off the layers of our onion-skinned selves.  


but, undoubtedly, we look to the wrong things.  we look to the fairytale and all the actors and devices she employs.  we look to these things and find as believable as they seem when the curtain is up and the lights are on, they fade away by the show's final call.  they present themselves in glitter and glory and keep us distracted from our very need. they keep us searching on the glossy surface.  keep us rummaging through the glitter...and missing the truth.  our glitter-ful hands will, ultimately, be left clutching only dust.  our distractions will drown us in the weight of their shimmer.
this new year's eve, enjoy the glitter.  enjoy the sparkle and the sparklers.  flirt with father time and befriend your fairy godmother.  but know that these things will pass.  their wisdom and their glory and their glitter will crumble.  the champagne bubbles will flatten, the sequins will loosen, and the noisemakers will (hopefully) quiet. know this.

know also, it is the simple, quiet Jesus who comes wearing nothing sparkly, who comes with no fireworks to announce His presence, who comes to bring the new.   He needs no oversized disco ball or gigantic peach to drop when He declares His do-overs. He chants no clever bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, but, He has promised, "I make all things new."  His dusty, rough carpenter's hands do not wield a fairy wand, but they do hold the answer to our new beginnings...our fresh start. He came as a newborn babe and was laid in a most un-glitzy manger.  there was no glitter or gold to be found anywhere in that lowly stable.  the sheep most certainly did not shimmer and no one danced in the streets of bethlehem.  the only ball that dropped was joseph's failure to call ahead for a room.  and yet, this simple babe, held in His hand the very power to send out the old and bring in the new. though often inconceivable and unbelievably miraculous, i assure you, it is not a fairytale.

      "therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation;

 the old has gone and the new has come."  ~ 2 corinthians 5:17.

fingerprints

we spent this morning tangling ourselves in yet another piece of sticky red tape.  there is nothing quite like the central immigration office in downtown atlanta at 9am.   if you've ever been to the DMV, then you know of what i write.


at the door, we were greeted by a security officer and told to leave all phones, purses, bags and any items of a personal nature in the car.  thus began the de-personalization of my person.  i stood in a line with roping to each side and nothing but arrows to direct my feet.  it was a clear assurance that everyone move in the same direction and  a warning that no one dare step out of line.  this experience was very much about moving forward. mechanically.  methodically.  uneventfully.  rick joked with me about cavity searches.  after 5 minutes of standing in line, i wasn't thinking he was all that funny.  standing there, i concluded there must be a special paint strip for wall color choices in governmental agencies. in my entire 5000 sample sherwin williams color wheel, there is nothing that comes close to this dismal selection. i am quite sure that if i explored the back workroom i would most certainly uncover a paint can entitled "sterile." but remember, i have arrows on the floor and roping to my side - there were to be no backroom expeditions for me this day. 


after filling out the correct paperwork and signing on the appropriate lines, we were shuffled - via more arrows - into a waiting area, i.e, a holding pen.  every sign was large and white with bold, black lettering.  clear. precise. direct.  my aesthetic wiring is motivated by clean lines and simple spaces, but this was ridiculous.  i've seen operating rooms with more personality.   so there we sat: all colors, ethnicities, languages and purposes blended blandly together.  people waited in these dreary, plastic seats for reasons from international adoption to green card status.  all of us lumped, impersonally and unexceptionally, together.  the morning's goal seemed almost to strip away all distinctive features from its visitors. to pare us down to nothing but a number.  i was number 24.  


places like this make me nervous.  not really nervous about what might happen to me.  but nervous about what i might do.  i suppose it has something to do with my struggle in rule following.  there was this gigantic sign stating no smoking or cell phone usage.  considering we weren't able to bring in our phones or our cigarettes, i was curious about the sign's necessity.  extra emphasis, i suppose.  just in case.  anyway, there is just enough rebelliousness in my character, that when i am treated as number 24 and told to sit quietly and nondescriptly, i have this strange sensation and thinly veiled intrigue in the "what if."  what if i chose to walk up to the counter when they called number 21...using my forbidden phone ...boldly flaunting a cigarette.  thankfully, i don't smoke, and thankfully, i had my husband there to keep me in line with the number and phone thing.

finally, a screen flashed number 24.  it was my turn to head back into the cubicle with the shuffling, mumbling woman in charge. she didn't smile.  she barely responded to my "good morning."  she never once looked into my eyes.  but i followed her obediently to the correct desk.  after confirming my information on the monitor, she, in perfect monotone, directed me to the scanning machine.  within seconds my fingerprints flashed in front of me.  my fingerprints.  mine.  no one else in this entire dull place could claim these prints.  no one in the city of atlanta.  no one in the world.  they are mine.  the irony struck me:  here we were in this most non-personal, most anti-individual experience, capturing the very thing that defines us and separates us from each other. someone else owns my same jeans, my same jacket...someone else has a dirty blond ponytail and wears silver hoop earrings just like mine.  someone else brushed their teeth this morning with colgate and washed their hair with pantene.  there are lots of jody's out there...and probably even another jody mcnatt or two.  but no one, not one other human, has my fingerprint.  i can stand here in this greyest of grey rooms and know that i was created uniquely.

"i praise you because i am fearfully and wonderfully made; 

your works are wonderful, i know that full well.    

my frame was not hidden from you when i was made in the secret place. 

 when i was woven together in the depth of the earth,

 your eyes saw my unformed body."  ~ psalm 139: 14-16.

           "for you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb."  ~psalm 139:13

before zuzu was knit together in her mother's womb her ten tiny fingerprints were delicately drawn....her story was thoughtfully written.  God carried close to His heart the blueprint of this child.  she was designed fearfully and wonderfully.  perfectly.  even with her imperfect heart, even with her transposed arteries and narrow valves, she was known by her Creator. He knit her. He knit even her inmost being. her fingerprint.  


if our God can give us the unique stamp of our fingerprint, the unique compostion of our DNA, the unique chemistry of our personality, can we deny that He, indeed, has a specific plan and design for our lives.  can we atempt to question or ignore that He has a unique purpose already etched into our future? this tiny toddler is as far from me as the east is from the west, and yet she is known completely by the same God that completely knows me.  


bella's adoption has been a continual reminder of the planner, designer, creator, knitter God. recently i heard the statistic that out of all adoptions which begin, only 2% ever reach completion.  is this not staggering?  after journeying this far, we understand that number. obstacles and anxieties seem to travel this same road.  i can see why defeat and surrender are commonplace.  there are items on the list which prove daunting and the list is long.  and yet, we belong to a God who knows not only the length of our list, but who knows the very curves of our fingerprint.  He has it perfectly imprinted in His memory.  and what's best,  He doesn't require a scanner or a photo or sterile colored room to identify us.

a princess on the other side of the world

this morning i woke with sweet thoughts.  tonight we will attend a party for a daughter we have not yet met.  several friends were hosting an event this evening in honor of our soon to be child.   this little girl's face was not only on the invitation, but is also on the party favors.  a great, big, wonderful party is being thrown tonight for an orphan.  a party is being thrown tonight for a little girl on the other side of the world.  a party is being thrown this evening for a child who most likely has never had anything given or done or thrown in her honor. 


she doesn't even know.  she can't know.  our friends will gather and her story will be told.  her name will be mentioned countless times and people will leave this gathering and they will take with them a small part of her.  her picture may end up on the busy doors of their refrigerators or stuck between the precious pages of their bibles.  this little girl on the other side of the world will be talked about, gazed upon, prayed over.  this little girl who doesn't have slightest idea about any of this.


i emailed these thoughts to my friend, kelly, party planner extraodinaire and hostess with the most-ess.  and i asked her, "is this not something like the heavenly party Jesus is planning for us?"  we are told He is preparing a feast, He is readying the mansion with many rooms, He is even paving the celestial streets with gold.  He is waiting to welcome us home.  and yet, there are some who do not even know.   some who could never imagine that they have been invited to a banquet in their honor.  some who have never heard that they are heirs to a king. some who can't imagine themselves worthy of a feast, let alone streets of gold.  some who couldn't believe it possible.  


and yet, our God has royal invitations on which those very names have been carefully written. and it has nothing to do with what we have done or can do. He has issued invitations simply because He loves us.  we are like those children sitting in orphanages around the world with nothing to bring to the banquet. for nothing is required.  but it will, indeed, be a grand event.

"In my Father's house are many rooms... I am going there to 
prepare a place for you.  And if I go
 and prepare a place for you,I will come back 
and take you to be with me..." ~ John 14:2

"He has taken me to the banquet hall,

and His banner over me is love."  ~ Song of Solomon 2:4

in the six months we have been pursuing bella grace xue, we probably have spoken the word adoption as often as the common words milk, paper, goodnight, apple...it is just a part of our daily vocabulary. we talk and think about it a lot.  as a follower of Christ, i can't help but draw the connection to my own adoption in and through Him.  in romans it says, "we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies." 


Christ rescued me out of despair, brokenness and hopelessness.  He chose me. He chose me and He made me His daughter.  the daughter of a  King.  like any little girl, i always wanted to be a princess.  not just one of those delicate-natured, pedestal-sitting, pretty princesses, but a strong, regal and purposeful princess.  a princess kind of like mia thermopolis  in the princess diaries. i have thoroughly admired and even adored mia since first seeing the movie.  she is a meat and potatoes kind of princess - my kind of girl.  heiress, yes, but so much more going on behind all those cute princessy clothes.  psalm 45 says,

"Listen, O daughter, consider and give ear:...the King 

is enthralled with your beauty...All glorious is the princess within her chamber."   

it doesn't get any more fairytalish than that, does it?  my King, my heavenly Father is enthralled with my beauty?  wow. tell me more.  i love how this passage even addresses the all important issue of clothes.  are we women not completely thankful that our Father, the King, get's that?  He understands full well, we girls want to know what in the world we will be wearing come banquet time.  "her gown is interwoven with gold. in embroidered garments she is led to the king."  though i am most comfortable in my jeans and cowboy boots, i think i could get excited about a dress like that. afterall, i am a daughter of the King.

someday, there will come a morning when i will wake with another sweet thought. someday, i will attend a party for my daughter.  a little girl who i will have met.  a little girl who will be on this side of the world and who will be in attendance at the party thrown in her honor. i will plan her party with great joy. i will prepare her a feast and i will clean the many rooms of my (not-so-mansion-like) home.  i might even attempt to pave my driveway in gold... for it will surely be the party of a princess. someday.

grey things

it hung there, dangling by mere thread.  well, not exactly a thread, maybe a root.  i don't know for  sure, i am not a dentist, i am a mother.  i am the mother of a six year old who has a tooth so loose it literally flaps in the breeze of his voice.  it is so loose it is now (officially) grey. it is so loose that the picker/fiddler/tweeker in me feels somewhat shaky in its presence.  
for weeks now, i have been determined to extract this unsightly item from his mouth.  i have staged a pillow fight (seriously, that worked with our oldest years ago).  i have attempted to bribe him with outlandish and extravagant gifts.  i have even snuck into his room late at night with furtive plans to remove it while he innocently slept unaware.  nothing has worked.  all efforts have been in vain.  all attempts completely thrawted.  so, we head into this week of christmas festivities with an unsightly, grey, flapping tooth.
thankfully, the christmas card photo was taken prior to the loosening and greying of this front bicuspid.   
my son and his tooth hold on for dear life.  this tooth is not only disturbing to look at -especially for his sisters at the dinner table- but is causing other issues as well.  eating has taken on a whole new level of complexity.  there have been several meals where connor has requested to eat off the special item menu -mind you, we don't have a special item menu in my kitchen.  it is a distraction to all of us. countless times this week i have found connor perched on the sink in front of the mirror intently studying it from every angle.  in his little boy way, he finds it downright fascinating. clearly a badge of honor. he proudly shares daily updates on the gymnastic abilities of this prized possession. recently, while in conversation with connor, i caught my own self feeling slightly mesmerized by its pendulum-like swing.

makes me wonder what kind of grey, flapping teeth are attached to my own life.  what is that thing that hangs on by one tenacious root?  what is that thing which distracts me, detours me, even hypnotizes me?  what is that thing desperately in need of extraction, but which i won't release?  you know what i am talking about.  we all have them.  they are the unattractive and unecessary items to which we continue to cling, believing them to have some kind of value.  we study them.  we work around them.  we baby them. we hold tightly to them, because we are simply afraid that it could hurt too much to let go.  i have grey teeth in my life that i didn't even realize were present.   
walking through this adoption has uncovered more grey teeth than i care to admit. i know that God is patiently waiting for me, ready to remove them.  i know that if i let go, it might hurt for a minute, but there would surely come great relief. i know this, but i continue to hold  a protective hand over my mouth and say, "not yet."  when i asked connor why he wouldn't let me just yank that tooth out of his mouth, his answer was simply, "i don't trust you."  (something to do with an unfortunate nail trimming incident a few weeks earlier).  this boy is nothing if not honest.  perhaps it would help if i chose a verb other than "yank", but the bottom line, he knows there will be a moment of hurt.  a moment of pain.  he is willing to give up fresh, crunchy apples and sweet, corn on the cobb, in order to prevent that moment.  he is willing to suffer inconvenience while eating and endure ridicule from siblings, with the hope of postponing that moment.  what good things am i giving up while holding on to the grey things? it makes me wonder.

in psalm 30, david writes that God, " removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy."  He removed. He didn't just cover up or gloss over or sweep under.  He removed. the old had to come off (or out) for the new to come on (in).  it is that simple, but it isn't always easy.  sackcloth. ashes. grey teeth.  somedays we just need to be reminded that God has joyful and strong and healthy gifts waiting to replace the grey items in our lives. 

now, off to find that pair of pliers...

...note:  i wrote this piece yesterday.  guess what connor proudly placed in my hand this afternoon?

connections

after reading the blog post below, my friend, priscilla, directed me to this song.  i had never before heard it. such an uncanny thing considering connor's suggestion last week about our "hanging a stocking for zuzu."  oh, how we love God orchestration of these little surprises...these little gifts which are given, unexpectedly, and yet, encourage so deeply. we can't help but connect to this song, minus "the wonderland of white" and the "angels in the snow."  it reminds us that there are plenty of others out there waiting to bring home children. there is nothing exceptional about our waiting.  we are certainly not alone in our adoption.  i can't figure out exactly how to include the link to the song...but, it is on itunes if you are interested in locating it.

Merry Christmas ~ Third Day

There's a little girl trembling on a cold December morn

Crying for her momma's arms

At an orphanage just outside a little China town

There the forgotten are

But half a world away I hang the stockings by the fire

And dream about the day when I can finally call you mine

It's Christmas time again but you're not home

Your family is here and yet you're somewhere else alone

And so tonight I pray that God will come and hold you in his arms

And tell you from my heart I wish you Merry Christmas

As I hang the tinsel on the tree and watch the twinkling lights

I'm warmed by the fire's glow

Outside the children tumble in a wonderland of white,

Make angels in the snow

But half a world away you try your best to fight the tears

And hope that heaven's angels come to carry you here

It's Christmas time again but you're not home

Your family is here and yet you're somewhere else alone

And so tonight I pray that God will come and hold you in his arms

And tell you from my heart I wish you Merry Christmas

Christmas is a time to celebrate the holy child

And we celebrate his perfect gift of love

He came to earth to give his life

And prepare a place for us

So we could have a home with him above

It's Christmas time again and now you're home

Your family is here so you will never be alone

So tonight before you go to sleep, I'll hold you in my arms

And I'll tell you from my heart, and I'll you from my heart

I wish you Merry Christmas.

a stocking hung with great care...

my little guy is quickly earning the title, "mr. christmas" in our home. he is All About It. i, however, was attempting this year to pace myself. last Christmas our house was on the neighborhood holiday home tour (not nearly as glamorous as that sounds, mind you). by this point last december, i had pretty much anything standing still covered with greenery and bedecked with a bow. this year i had plans to take it easy. plans to keep it simple. i had plans to embrace the meaning and not the must-do list. i had plans. "yeah, right, jody," 


some of you laugh. i admit to having a slight issue with that whole taking it easy thing. apparently, last year's decorating deluge had quite the effect on my youngest. now, i am not going so far as to say i see him making a career choice here.  but, from the moment we arrived home from thanksgiving-at-grandma's-house he has been leading The Great Christmas Cause. connor has continued to bring boxes from the basement storage room commanding me to "use this, mom." he has pulled out an assortment of holiday hoop-a-la and is happily attempting to arrange garland and gold ribbon. (he did play in a basketball game this morning for those of you that might be concerned about his new hobby). right off the bat, he dubbed himself Chief Checker of the Light Strings. he does it extremely well, i must add: the perfect job for a 6 year old. 


one day after school last week while upstairs folding laundry, the walls began to vibrate with sounds from "the polar express." he had figured out how to put the cd in the sound system and had it blaring at a level loud enough to be appreciated even in the north pole. he walked into my room and announced that he was hoping the music would help me "get into the spirit of things." hmmm....i thought, so much for simple. he is also the same child who, while walking through home depot this week, begged me to invest in a sizable, blow up snowman for our front yard. it is not that i am inherently opposed to snowmen. but i do cringe slightly at the idea of a manufactured snowman in my georgia-green-grass-front yard. there is just something about this that feels slightly invalid - just not quite bona fide Christmas. for that matter, the fact that there IS green grass in our front yard come Christmas morning is not quite bona fide for this northern born and raised girl. i apologize, friend, if you have a plastic snowman adorning your own yard. i intend no snobbish criticism whatsoever. it is simply a matter of preference. i am sure there will come a day with my children at the height of their apathetic teenage years, when i will regret not having given in to this heart's desire of my young boy. i might even blame their apathy on my own refusal to succumb to the gigantic plastic snowman. i might even put one in our yard by the time the last kid heads off to college. but for now, i am determined to remain unwavering in my resistance of this persistent and most passionate request.

"mom, we really need to get baby zuzu a stocking this Christmas, so that she'll have it for next year." yep, that was the phrase. that was the suggestion that did me in. he had no idea in that moment how close i came to rushing right out the door to get that Christmas stocking for baby zuzu AND that plastic snowman for connor. he had no idea. oh, the words of a child. the eyes of a child. the heart of a child, who with such a simple consideration for a sibling he hasn't yet met could encourage his mom. there is such blessing to hear my family speak of bella grace xue as if she is already a part of us. 


as beautiful and wonder-filled as Christmas is, it is also a season that can bring great sadness when things aren't in place. i don't know about you, but i happen to believe that for most of us there is usually something slightly out of place. most of us have come to understand that our tables will often have someone missing at the holiday meal. most of us have family members who will receive their Christmas gifts, not from our own hands, but from those of the mailman. most of us have lost someone or live somewhere which prevents the large gathering of those most dear. as our own family stays scattered across 6 states, i understand this well. this Christmas we add to the distance equation another country, another continent. we are growing closer to her, but won't, in fact, have her with us this Christmas. after raising four toddlers i know the joy we miss this year. i know what it looks like to see the wonder of Christmas through the eyes of a an almost two year old. i long to see the twinkle of our tree lights in her dark eyes and i can just imagine the sweet stickiness of her hand clutching a peppermint stick. i know this. i know, also, that because i believe in a God of Perfect Timing, it is somehow alright. if this child is to be ours, we will someday hear the pitter patter of her feet running to wake us on Christmas morning.


and so we think of next year: the anticipation makes my heart beat a rump-a-tump-tum. there is just nothing like expecting a child. i can remember with each pregnancy my great excitement for the baby i carried. those are the precious thoughts so sacred to mothers. those are our dreams...hopes... wishes. those are the things which begin to weave the child into our arms. adoption is so similar. though we've seen the curve of her nose and know the color of her eyes, we still carry dreams and hopes and wishes for her already. even when, especially when, there is an empty place at our table.


today, there are seven stockings hung by our chimney with great care. baby zuzu's stocking hangs in the middle with three on each side. her stocking has a place in the midst of us. she has a place already in our home. she is already in our hearts.


as for that snowman...well, he remains securely in the display case at our neighborhood home depot...at least for now.

roadtrip to texas

i sat in the car hiccupping. my hands clutched the steering wheel. translucent knuckles evidence of my anxiety. i had just left the fed ex office. i had just left another pile of important papers with a young man who looked no older than my 8th grader and no more responsible than my 1st grader. sorry, that reads very judgmental. i think it was the fact that he wouldn't make eye contact and was more serious about the gum he was snapping than my questions about delivery method. okay. that really has nothing to do with this posting. i wasn't sitting in the car hiccupping because of the juvenile fed ex employee, but because i had just smacked into, yet again, my own control issues.


half-crazed woman at counter clutching immigration paperwork.  me. skeptical and determined. it needed to be sent to texas and the plan was to fed ex it - no matter the amount. he quoted me prices and all i could think was what would rick say if i called him from the car and told him i was already half way across alabama and planning to hand deliver it myself. just wanting to be sure and all. i figured it would be okay. he could easily handle the kids for the weekend. sure we had multiple soccer games, events to attend and projects to complete. but perhaps i could enlist the help of a neighbor or something. i mean, i saw lots of positives to my hand delivering these precious documents. maybe i could show up with a starbucks for this man sitting in the immigration offices of lewisville texas. i could bring some pictures of zuzu. i could tell him her story. i could read him a few blog entries. i would even promise to take his picture and add it to her blog....use his name...send him a christmas card. whatever.


whatever it would take to ensure these papers...this story... would be handled quickly, efficiently, and with the utmost of care. i was drowning in my great need to control and manage this situation. silly woman. where was my trust? why don't my actions match my words. i say all the time we are trusting God with this story, with this child, with her life, with her health, with the finances, with the decisions, with the details....i say that and yet i stand in an atlanta fed ex office and consider a road trip to texas.

"Is not God in the heights of heaven? and see how lofty are the highest stars! 

Yet you say, 'What does God know?'... 

Yet it was He who filled their houses with good things."

 ~ Job 22: 12, 13 and 18

God in heaven. me in atlanta. yep, that about sums up the utter ridiculousness of my worry, my control, my meddling.  shameful, i know.  it seems i can't help myself.  the thing about adoption is there is always something else to do, but in between these doings, there is a lot we can't do.  a lot we have to just let alone. let be. the translucent knuckles of the hiccuping woman in the car have a hard time unwrapping themselves from the process and paperwork and plan.

further on in this same chapter it reads:

"Submit to God and be at peace with Him; in this way prosperity will come to you.

Accept instruction from His mouth and lay up His words in your heart....

the Almighty will be your gold, the choicest silver for you." ~ Job 22: 21 and 25

so, for today, i will trade in my translucent knuckles, my anxious thoughts, my controlling ways. i will trade in my hiccups and my desperate plans. i will trade in my insecurities and my weakness, and i will replace it, at least for today, with His good things. with His gold and with the very choicest of silver. and i will pay the $26 to the fed ex boy and i will not drive to texas...i will drive home.

twenty answers

a tiny glimpse...
below are the questions we submitted to "a source" inside the orphanage. it took almost a month, but we have 20 answers to our questions. not quite elaborate answers, mind you, but at least it is something. we really do not know who provided the information or exactly how accurate it is. however, considering we have heard nothing since early august, we are very thankful for even this tiny glimpse.

1. medically, how is she doing?
Since her surgery, her recovery has been well. But still can hear the murmur of 2/62. has she had any complications since the surgery?
No3. any illness or irregularities?
No
4. is xue zhu active?
她的性格活泼吗
Yes, she is very active now5. is she still with the same nanny?
Yes6. did she and the nanny ever receive our care package?
Yes7. is there anything else we can send? will she get it?
We don’t need anything so far and we will let you know if she needs anything we can’t get from here.8. is there any way we could visit her this fall/winter?
If you can get approval from both local civil affair and CCAA, you can.
9. how often is she evaluated (medically/developmentally)?
The doctor advised us only to take her to do the check if she has anything wrong. Otherwise, we don’t need to do it.10. what are her favorite activities? favorite things?
She likes rattle the most. Any toy with sound.
11. does she show an interest in something specific?
She likes to be held all the time.
12. we were told she would need another surgery before her 2nd birthday (in february), is there any plan for that?
So far we don’t think so.
13. is she crawling or walking?
She can crawl and stand by holding
14. how is her language development?
She can say one character words15. does she seem peaceful or stressed?
She looks very peaceful16. does she seem to be developing on track, physically and cognitively? has anyone observed this? evaluated? noticed anything?
She does. We just evaluate everything by her daily behavior17. is there anything we can do or provide from our end?
So far, no18. is "half the sky" involved with her? i heard they are known to be in this orphanage in particular.
Yes, she is in the program19. can we please receive more pictures or video?
We only can provide pics20. is there a way to get a current prognosis of her medical state? we were told they would give us this after she could be observed for a while after her surgery...is this possible?
Sorry, we can’t give this to you now.

finally ~ "an update & two pictures" from china

her eyes. i look at this most recent picture and i see only her eyes - large and luminous. ebony windows. soul-filled eyes.  21 months of life reflected in this sweet countenance. i am not sure these dark pools provide even a trace of smile. oh, how i long to see laughter there.  is wish for the sparkle of delight.  i want, even, to see the twinkle of mischief.


okay, so i lied. i see more than her eyes. i see much chubbier cheeks than i did in the post-surgery pictures from august. today she is absolutely round. oh, how i love that. she is almost unrecognizable from the pictures this summer. oh, how i love that too. perhaps it is the naive american side of me that believes with chubby cheeks comes gerber-baby-good-health. i don't know...but it pleases the mother in me. she is fed. she is eating. those very basic things bring comfort. i also see an unbelievable buzz cut. her head has been shaved. why? we don't know...perhaps lice? well, if that is the case, it is only another reason why she will fit right into the mcnatt family - 2008: the year of the louse. our family was struck that year with at 5 episodes.


in the second picture sent i could see more. she is inside, but incredibly bundled up in a too-big sweater and vest. there is a cold, cement floor beneath her with a few puddles of water behind her. why? after receiving the picture i immediately shot back an email to our agent: "please tell me why there is water on the floor of her room? i need to know." he didn't know. "is it cold there?" he didn't know. i checked the weather report in guangzhou city for today...50 degrees this morning.


it is her mouth that is most familiar: those rosebud lips resting just above what looks like an impressive double chin. oh, that the time would pass quickly until we receive a kiss from those very lips...until her mouth moves to form the treasured word, "mama."


please, Lord, make these months swift. 


there is so much still awaiting a stamp of approval. we want only to bring her home before this baby face alters any further.  but for today, we are just so very thankful to finally see her again. since august, we've had absolutely no update, no pictures, no news....nothing. when i opened the email from our agent yesterday it was like striking gold. the attachment read, "update and two pictures." the download bar has never crept more slowly across the screen. but there she finally was; large eyes, chubby cheeks and a terrible haircut. it was all so wonderful....well, maybe not the haircut. those eyes seemed to penetrate right through my computer screen from china to georgia.


remember that list of questions we were supposed to come up with last month? well, after our initial 500, we had finally narrowed it down to a scant twenty. we whisked those questions off via our nashville agent, somewhat skeptical, but hoping desperately for a response. weeks passed. we heard nothing. but yesterday the original document we sent came back with neatly typed answers to each of those questions. we still don't know who provided the information. we don't know their name, their credentials or their qualifications. but we are deeply thankful for even this glimpse into bella grace xue's world. it is nothing monumental or dramatic. it is only a whisp of information...barely a start. but it is something. and in this elusive world of international adoption, it is gold. pure gold.


so, friends, add it up: large eyes, chubby cheeks, a terrible, wonderful haircut and twenty answers. this is what we have in our hands today. this is our treasure for the moment. this is what allows us to feel wealthy in our hope and wild in our love for this little girl living in a land across oceans.