a little behind

so we're a little behind.  i'm used to that.  it seems to be par for my course  - this decade anyway. this running behind should fall well within the rhythm of my normal stride.  but i had one of those mini-panic attacks earlier today when i started thinking about the months still ahead.  yesterday, we (finally, finally, finally) received news that our dossier was on its way to china.  my timeline had it there by january 1st.  february 23rd isn't that far off the mark...but far enough to make me a little crazy when adding up the days.  


i realize full well that i am only seeing part of the picture.  only seeing one section of this grand tapestry God is weaving.  i am limited. oh, so very limited.   my human-ness and my frail-ness and my small-ness have this way of taking control of my emotions.  my shortsighted view sees a family of six that will need to make adjustments to a new sister.  it sees a two year old entering the picture where there hasn't been a two year old for a long time.  the reality of emily graduating from her comfortable, well known elementary school, and preparing for a big, unknown high school  is beginning to hit me lately.  all of a sudden i see five children at five very different stages and i have to wonder where i will find the energy and creativity to pull us all together as a family of seven.  i have this constant battle with time waging inside me.  one part wants desperately to fast forward to the day rick and i will board a plane headed to china. i want to speed up the months which separate us from bella.  i would like to step over them as if they were just a crack in the sidewalk which i need barely acknowledge.  the other part is frantically searching for that elusive pause button on my family.  emily heads off to high school in a matter of months...tyler, sarah elizabeth and connor grow and change before my very eyes.  i just want to yell, "time out everyone!" or "freeze!"  i want to walk around their little figures and memorize their expressions and their height and their width and their youth.  i want to drink in who they are today, at this very moment...because tomorrow it will be different.  


if i have learned one thing in my 14 years of mothering, it is that nothing lasts very long.  we are in a constant flux of seasons and when i blink i am liable to miss years.   it was just a few nights ago when sleep would not come that i got up in the early hours before dawn and went into the rooms of my sleeping children.  i had a sudden and intense longing to see them.  to watch the peace spread over them like a light blanket.  i just wanted to see them in a state of quiet...in a state of rest.  so often i watch them running by me.  running out the door.  running off to practice.  running over to a friend's house.  if my oldest reads this she will, no doubt, be completely freaked out by the admission of my midnight wanderings.  in her book that would not be a tender mother moment, but a creepy stalker acitivity.  anyway, i guess this is so much what motherhood looks like for all of us.  i know i am no different.  i am  not special.  this is the great beauty and this is the great sadness that weave together to create the same picture.  


if i was being honest, i'd tell you there are days when i don't really want to gaze at my children at all.  i, in fact, want them out of my kitchen,  off the couch and altogether out of my hair.  but, then there are those moments when i could weep seeing their independence.  one morning, not too long ago,  i came downstairs to find connor warming up syrup for the waffles he had already toasted.  he was dressed for school. his shoes were on and tied and his snack was in his backpack.  he is six.  should six year olds be warming their own syrup?  i don't know.  part of me loves that.  on many days, i am certainly quite thankful for his resourceful fourth child spirit.  but every now and then i think, "oh no, honey, let mommy do that."  do we ever achieve the perfect balance?  at this point, i am thinking no.  i am thinking we just do what we can with what we have and we stay on our knees. on our knees...always on our knees.


anyway, this post is tending to ramble mightily.  i have somehow moved from a dossier heading to china to a six year old warming his eggo syrup, but i know you understand.  these are the things of which our lives are made. we have big occasions and grand times and we have simple trifles and trivial moments...all of it blends together in this gift we have been given: our lives.   and somehow in this little bit of time here on earth we have to figure out how to soak it in, drink it up and hold it tight.   there will be rare moments when we are out ahead and there will also be many times when we are running little behind.  and this is life.

"show me, o Lord, my life's end and the number of my days;

let me know how fleeting is my life.

 you have made my days a mere

handbreadth;

the span of my years is as nothing before you. 

each man's life is but a breath."

psalm 39:4-5

be mine

i held in my hand a tiny sugared heart. "be mine," it read. it is february and every imaginable surface is littered with hearts. pink ones. red ones. tiny ones. frosted ones. as i clutched this candy in my fist i could think only of one broken heart. the broken heart of baby zuzu in china. we grow closer to her each day.  we have been told our dossier is just about ready to head to china.  we thought it might be there by early january...but we seem to be regularly at least a month behind all of our plans.  i guess it is time to just agree we are moving a month or two faster than the system. at times we feel like greedy and impatient children. we want to rush over to guangzhou city china and rescue this little girl and her sick heart. we want her to, "be mine." we want to stamp our feet and clench our fists and demand she, "be ours!" right now. but there is paperwork to finish and approvals to receive and unruly ducks to get in a line. at times we feel out of control and ridiculously unqualified. our four biological children and our four billion commitments pull  us every which way. we are ill equipped and clearly understaffed. somedays we seem to be wrapped only in our fraility and fear, looking to make a mad dash for the door. but we don't. we don't because this is about something more than us. it is even about something more than our love. it is about God's love. and we are reminded at these moments when we want to demand and insist and panic....we are reminded that she's His. before she will ever be ours, she belongs first to Him. this makes all the difference. it is what makes us bold and determined. it is what brings us peace, and on good days, patience. we know baby zuzu belongs to God and He is the one whispering gently in her ear, be mine. He has kindly invited us along on the journey. for that we are grateful and thankful, if not a little frightened. this morning i sit here with this tiny confection heart in my helpless hand. i am comforted knowing God has promised to hold our little girl in the palm of His big and mighty hand. and this february, whether the hearts are candy or chocolate, tiny or large, healthy or broken, i hear the soft and reassuring whisper of His voice, she's mine.

a mother

this week i have thought often of zuzu's biological mother. i am sure february 5th did not pass by without her remembering the daughter she left alone in a hallway. i am sure there is still much grief and pain involved. i cannot imagine the depth of her brokenness. we may never know why she chose to abandon her 5 month old daughter. it could have been as selfish as the inconvenience of a child or it could have been as selfless as hope for medical care and a brighter future. we don't know for sure, but i would like to believe the latter. she was left wrapped in a blanket with a small note attached. she was left in a hospital corridor, not an alleyway. and though i cannot fathom abandoning a child, i also cannot fathom being penniless in china with a sick child. with little hope for medical care. with little hope in general.  i cannot fathom having no one to help. no place to turn. my heart breaks for this grieving woman. she may no longer hold her daughter, but she holds the scars and the wounds and the guilt. i would imagine she clutches much of that loss tightly to her chest, even today, two years later.
      oh, how i wish i could tell her about this crazy family of six living in alpharetta georgia -on the other side of the world -waiting for her little girl.  i wish i could tell her how we already love her... we already long for her. how we so desperately want her. i wish i could invite her into the rooms we are readying...the place we are preparing.  should she be a guest at our dinner table, she would hear talk of a little girl for whom we wait.  should she observe bedtime in our home, she would surely hear the prayers of four children asking God's protection and healing for a child we call bella.  oh, how i wish to tell her how on that day of abandonment, her little girl was not abandoned.  how she was not alone.  i would share with her my confidence in a Heavenly Father watching over her even in that hallway...especially in that hallway.  His eye was on the sparrow. His eye is on the sparrow...and i know He watches over bella grace.

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,

Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home,

When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is He:

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I'm happy,

I sing because I'm free,

For His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me.

“Let not your heart be troubled,' His tender word I hear,

And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;

Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,

When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,

I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

february fifth...

we have this special birthday plate in our house. i made it many years ago for the kids.  the birthday child eats breakfast, lunch and dinner from this handpainted plate. it is quite unremarkable, but the children were all very excited about it when they were younger.  my oldest, emily, turns 14 tomorrow.  i am not sure it holds for her quite the same allure as it once did.  in fact, i am not sure she will eat even one of the three meals at our table tomorrow.  breakfast will most likely be a protein bar on the way out the door. the ritzy school cafeteria will host her birthday lunch.  and i am certain she will opt to eat dinner with the basketball team after her big playoff game.  the birthday plate will sit in its cupboard unattended this year.
there is hope for this ceramic tradition though.  tomorrow is also baby zuzu's birthday.  she turns two.  i am pretty sure she will be excited to eat from the mcnatt family birthday plate someday, but not this year. we thought we'd have her by now....but not yet.  we had dreams of pink party balloons and buttercream frosting.  we had visions of slipping her into a ruffled party dress and tiny buckled shoes.  what joy it will be introducing her to cheerfully wrapped gifts and a cake with her name in pale pink icing. but not this year.  there is much to do about birthdays in our home.  like most things in life, it is probably more about the anticipation than it is about the actual event.  this year for bella i imagine there was no one to build up her expectations or stir up her excitement.  no one to convince her, "this is your day!"   in an orphanage of hundreds of children, can she have her own day? i would think not.  she will wake tomorrow in a room with 35 or so children.  is anyone even aware that tomorrow she turns two?  i almost cannot bear writing that question just now.

last night i fell asleep thinking about the children who have turned two in our home.  emily.  tyler.  sarah elizabeth. connor.  i can remember (for the most part) their second birthdays. if i was honest, i'd have to tell you  things get a little fuzzy with the 3rd and 4th children.  but you get the idea.  they had 2nd birthdays.  they had parties. they had family to sing happy birthday and smother them with birthday kisses and wishes.  they ran in circles of wild delight.  probably not realizing much except that they belonged.  they were special.  they were loved.  it had little to do with the number of presents or party guests. it had much to do with the warmth and joy. they knew innately this was their day.  someday zuzu will dance in our arms and squeal in delight as she celebrates the day she was born. as she celebrates the day she was fearfully and wonderfully made. someday we will celebrate wildly with her.  someday we will sing happy birthday and we will serve her as much cake as any toddler can hold...on the birthday plate of course.

i think it is delightful having two daughters share the same birthday.  what an incredible thing.  i've heard a couple people remark about how that might be "tricky" or "hard"....i have to tell you there is nothing hard about it.  hard is having zuzu still in china on her birthday.  if my 14 year old has to share her day with a new sister at some point, that will only be good for her.  for us.  i gave up worrying about tricky long ago.  most things with a family our size are tricky.  i think it is beautiful that they share this date.  emily and zuzu are 12 years apart.  that is quite a gap.  when zuzu begins 1st grade, emily will begin college.  (i haven't told rick that quite yet).  perhaps this is one tiny added connection for these sisters. emily was zuzu's biggest advocate right from the start....before she new that they shared a birthday, in fact.  when we talked about the doctor's warning that she might not have a full, long or healthy life, emily was the first one to speak up and insist, "then that is all the more reason she needs to have a mom and a dad right now....even if it is only for a while....everyone deserves a mom and dad."  she put it in such simple terms.  rick and i could not begin to argue.  she was right.  it was all the more reason we needed to begin this journey.  emily has heard me tell that story several times this year, but i am not sure she is completely aware of the conviction behind her words.  children rarely know the depths they are capable of touching in their parents.  i suppose in some ways this is a good thing.

so tomorrow we will celebrate emily.  we will celebrate 14 years with a daughter who brings us incredible joy. we will celebrate a daughter we grow to love more each day.   but this celebration will be laced with some sense of the bittersweet.  though we cannot include bella in our birthday celebration today, we will celebrate because of her.  we will celebrate that God has placed our family on a journey toward her. there will come a day when she will be placed into our arms, just as our four other children were on the day of their births. that day is coming.  we imagine it.  we dream of it.  we sometimes even fear it.  that day we may not have any balloons or buttercream frosting on hand,  but we will have bella in our arms...and it will be a grand celebration....a true birthday party.

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?