Quick Adoption Update

The past few weeks have found me in a place I never thought I’d be—chatting with Senator’s aides, writing letters to Congress people, planning a trip to DC to march for a cause.  But this is the fate of a waiting adoptive parent.  You find yourself doing all you can to shorten the distance between you and your kids. 

Oh, and I’ve been on some conference calls.  Major props to working folks like my husband who have to endure large conference calls everyday.  Oh my word.  And large conference calls with waiting adoptive parents means that at least one person doesn’t have their phone on mute.  Most likely this person will be in a windtunnel located inside the Playland at a McDonald’s.  I can find no other reasonable explanation for the constant chatter and babble of small children in the background. 

So what did all of these efforts produce?  Some news that was both encouraging and discouraging at the same time.  We now know that there is no way we will travel this summer.  The US Embassy in DRC does investigations of all adoptions to insure each adoption is done ethically.  This is a good thing.  No, a great thing.  But because of the sequester and the rise in adoptions in the DRC, the embassy is understaffed and under-budgeted to handle the case load in a timely manner.  So we wait.  We knew that because our kids are not originally from the capitol of DRC, that our investigations would take longer.  The DRC is one third the size of the US.  It’s not like the investigators can just hop in a Humvee and trot off to where our kids are from.  It’s 1000 miles away.  But….we do now know that the investigators have scheduled a trip to our kids' hometown to do our investigation and the investigations of other kids from that area.  (Which is a huge praise and one of the things we were lobbying for!  Hurrah!)  However, the investigators won’t be heading out to our region until the end of the summer.  (Sad trombone)  Please pray that nothing thwarts these plans.  Any changes in politics or rebel uprisings could make this trip a no go.   So while three months isn’t THAT long in the US, it seems like an eternity in the tumultuous landscape of the Congo.  

(Why long investigations?  International adoption is frought with controversy and corruption because where there are big-hearted Westerners with money, there are folks willing to take advantage of that.   And while I have entered into the conversation about ethical adoptions in other arenas, community building in 3^rd world countries and the oh so important need for family preservation initiatives, I don’t want this post to go down that rabbit trail.  So if you want to enter that conversation, I suggest you go here, to Jen Hatmaker’s most recent blog post, to discuss that.  Please hear me when I say I am thankful for the extra lengths the Embassy is going to to insure ethical adoptions.  I just wish they had more resources with which to do them.  Hence the lobbying and the march.)

This means that we will most likely travel to pick up our kids in the fall.  Perhaps October?  And we will now need to be in country for 2-3 weeks rather than just 1 week as we had first thought.  Which makes finding childcare for Henry and Grace a bit stickier during the school year and also triples the cost of the trip.  The wait also adds to our expense as we pay for our kids’ living expenses.  And I don’t want to complain about those costs.  Because the transition house where Charlie and Mollie are is great.  But it isn’t a family.  It isn’t our family.  

Sometimes at night I hear Henry talking to Charlie.  Telling him how he misses him.  “Oh Charlie, I will teach you how to make the bed.  Yours will be the bottom bunk.  It’ll be easier to make than my top bunk.”  “Charlie, I’m really too old for this train table, but I told mom to keep it in our room for you.  I will build you tracks and you can play trains.  Did you know there is a Charlie train?  And a Henry train?  There’s even a Molly train.  Poor Grace, she doesn’t have her own train.”  

I hear this and I cry.

Most days, I’m able to go through the day without breaking down.  I trust that God’s timing is perfect and that He is with them in the Congo.  But other days?  Like Mother’s day?  Sweet Moses.  I was completely blindsided by grief.  It was like it was pissed I’d been ignoring it so long and just full on attacked me.  

So that was awesome. 

I’m trying to see the bright side of the delay.  We have the summer.  I don’t have to worry about getting an email or a letter from USCIS or my case worker saying “It’s time to go.”  I can just love on Henry and Grace.  Sloan and I can go on loads of date nights.  We can finish prepping the kids rooms and maybe unpack the last few boxes.  I can relax at the pool.  I can go to the gym and drop the kids off in childcare.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll go crazy and finally paint the family room bathroom and dining room.  You know, since I’ve got a coupon for paint and all.

Please pray for us to have continued patience.  For us to trust in God to provide for all of our needs.  For the health and safety for Charlie and Mollie and all of the kids with them in Kinshasha.  For me to not obsess over other people’s adoption timelines.  For me to celebrate with my friends at their airport moments when they bring home their kids before we bring home ours, despite them starting their journeys after us.  For there to be no impediments in the rest of our process.  For us to figure out childcare.  For this Momma’s heart who longs to see and smell and hold and kiss her two youngest children. 

Remind me that Jesus sees my hurt and hurts alongside me.  Remind me that God understands a parent's ache for a child in harm's way.  Don't give me churchy platitudes.  Just give me Jesus. 

Perspective: Get a New One

One of the benefits of orphan care is the new perspective it gives you on so many things.  The tentacles of caring for the orphaned reach into many arenas—oppression, poverty, social justice, greed, and just all around selfishness.  It taps into the brokenness of this world at its core: relationships.   As God has changed the physical make-up of my family, He has changed my heart as well.  He is tearing down the barriers between us and them.  He is opening up our eyes to the truth.  “Those” people are beloved by God.  So am I.  Which means “those” people are mine and I am theirs.  There is, in fact, no them.                

                      

Despite having lost our referral of J, a boy with Cerebral Palsy, my heart changed.  I am appalled at the flippant way I used jokingly use the R word or crack jokes about men being like handicapped parking spots.  Sure, I wasn’t mean to people out right, but in the dark, I felt better than THEM.  But when I loved a THEM, THEM became MINE.  So I suspect that when Jesus told us to love and serve the least of them, he wasn’t just issuing a mandate of missional living, but showing us our hearts.  We are them.  

We live in a disposable culture.  We have disposable silverware, plates, clothes, food.  I’m not sure if half of my kids will get more than one meal today.  So I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste the food in my refrigerator.  It’s offensive, really.  Those starving kids in Africa that your mom told you to clear your plate for?  Those are my kids.  Meanwhile, I throw out a half eaten banana left in the playroom or an unopened bag of salad that has liquefied in my crisper drawer. 

 The other night I saw an ad for something called the Wraptastic.  For just shy of $11, you can buy a plastic box to help you cut your foil and saran wrap.  You know, just in case you don’t like the way the box that they come in does it for you.  People, get some perspective.  Donate that $11 to a clean water initiative.  Use it to buy food to put in your local food bank.  Because to pay money to neatly wrap your leftovers that you’ll most likely toss in two days is just freaking ridiculous.  I mean, there are kids who die from diseases because they have no shoes and you pay money to decorate your saran wrap that is stored in a drawer?  Puh-lease.  

I don’t mean to sound all bitter and angry.  

 I’m just as bad.  We get segregated.  We hang out with people who look and act and work and shop and vote and educate only like us.  We have no perspective of the them.   We don’t love them because we don’t even know them.  But Jesus was intentional.  He walked different routes than the usual just to connect and intersect and relate to and love them.  (And this isn’t even counting the whole, you know, leaving heaven to come to earth trek.)

It took maybe three weeks of living in our new neighborhood until I said to Sloan, “How did we ever survive in a house with such a small yard?”  And if you’d heard my tone of voice you would’ve understood was that I was really saying “We used to live in a dump, can you even imagine?”  Three weeks in an older golf course neighborhood and I equated our former subdivision with a hovel.  So while I don’t live in poverty, my heart is distended from the way I’ve fed only my selfishness and not my self-denial.  Father, forgive me.

This is why we serve.  This is why segregation of race, class, political leaning, ethnicity, educational level is so harmful.  We navel gaze and get stuck on only our vantage point.   We get stuck in some #firstworldproblem loop.  We lose our grasp on the difference between wants and needs.  In the past week I’ve convinced myself I need the following—a new Ipad mini {because my first gen Ipad is sooooo big and soooo slow}, a remote control for my bedroom light {because I have to actually get out of bed at night and walk three feet to turn it off, I mean I might as well live in a prison!},  a fancy cheese cutting board {because I have to use an actual knife and cutting board like some sort of backwoods hobo}, and of course, I’m always convinced I need a new minivan because the Suburban is eleven years old, a gas guzzler, and (gasp!) you have to actually open the doors with your hands!  Father, forgive me.

Here is what I actually need:  Jesus.  

That is all.  

I don’t need Him to give me better eyesight but to actually give me new eyes.  I don’t need him just to adjust the way I love, but to completely replace my old shriveled heart with his resurrected one.  I don’t need him to just tend and prune my wants, but to outright burn and til under my old wants and then plant new ones.  C.S Lewis describes this complete overhaul of self and perspective this way: 

“Christ says . . . I want You. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it.  No half measures are any good. I don't want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down . . .the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as

the ones you think wicked—the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: My own will shall become yours.”

So you see, there is no us and them.  There is only Us and Him. 

Put a Ring on it--Stella & Dot Adoption Fundraiser

Mother's Day is coming up.  Do you want to know what I got my husband for Father's Day?  I bought my own mother's day present. 

This is my mother's day present.  The necklace. Not the woman.  Of course, if she does laundry and potty trains, she will be what I request for Christmas.

 

And you can too.  AND you can do all of his while helping to bring an orphan home.


WHAT?!?

I'm a little obsessed with these earrings. 

The little sister of my kids' fairy Godmother is a Stella and Dot stylist and graciously offered to throw me a Charity trunk show.   The monsoon rains meant for a poor showing at my house last Sunday, but you can still have the opportunity to buy some bling with a good conscience knowing that roughly 20% of all sales will go straight to our adoption fund. 

So maybe you should not only put a ring on it, but a necklace and bracelet too. 

Here is the link to my trunk show:http://www.stelladot.com/style/trunkshow/dbff9f9b-7c26-11e1-ad30-005056b55330

How rockin' will these bracelets go with my necklace?  (No.  I did not get all of them.  But I wanted to.) 

If you order by May 6th, all in stock items are guaranteed to make it to you by Mother's Day.
The party closes on May 14th.  
 
Also, I think if you order your mom one of those fabulous charm necklaces and tell her how you helped bring an orphan home by giving this to her...you will affirm to her that she really IS the best mother around for teaching you the importance of motherhood. 

Again, click HERE to shop my Charity Trunk Show! 

Repost from Plum Panda because it's so freakin' great...

Dinner party for 8*

Bid on a fabulous dinner party for 8!  Enjoy a delicious, homemade meal and great wine at a dinner party in your own home!   

This is a GREAT deal.  What a fun couples night this would be!  And how many times can you honestly say that getting dressed up and drinking some vino will help bring an orphan home?

It should also be noted that Sloan and I make WONDERFUL dinner companions.  Not a requirement, just sayin'... 

*If you want to bid on this item, you must do so on The Plum Panda's page on Facebook.  I'm willing to accept bids via email, but I cannot assume responsibility for you "losing" the auction because I will not be able to keep you in the loop for the auction.  If, however, you aren't a fan of The Plum Panda on Facebook and you desperately want this, a large donation to our adoption fund COULD possibly work.  (You can "like" The Plum Panda on facebook in the little box on your righthand sidebar ------>)

THIS AUCTION WILL CLOSE NEXT SUNDAY AT 8PM.   

Starting with a bid of $80, choose between a pork or chicken entrée, to be served with an appetizer, 2 or 3 side dishes and dessert.  The meal will be delivered to your home in disposable containers.  One bottle of red wine is included. The first wine to be included is a 2000 Stags Leap Cabernet Sauvignon , which retails for about $60 (though in a restaurant it would cost between $100-120). [Cost: $10 / per person]

Starting with a bid of $140, add the additional options of lamb or beef for your entrée and an additional bottle of red wine.  The second wine to be included is the Livingston, which retails for about $95 (though in a restaurant it would cost between $150-$190).  [Cost: about $17 / per person]

Starting with a bid of  $200, your meal will arrive on serving platters.  You will also receive service during the meal and a light clean-up of the meal.

[cost: about $25 / per person]

The highest bid wins!!

Other notes:

·         Menu adjustments can be made at the buyer’s request

·         Date to be mutually agreed upon between buyer and chef

·         Wine options are fixed

·         Contact me with any questions!

 Sample Menus

  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Smoked Salmon Dip

Roast Loin of Pork with Fennel, Carrots, & Potatoes

Haricot Verts with Shallots

Homemade Foldover Rolls

Chocolate Ganache Cake

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  

Olive Tapendade with Crostini

Roast Lambs with White Beans

ProvenVal Tomatoes

Mesclun Salad with Mustard Vinagrette

Lemon Meringue Tart

The One Where I Ask for Your Money (Or not)

Sooooo…in case you haven’t been around in awhile, we are adopting from China.  And in case you’re headless, that is not an inexpensive endeavor.  That said, Sloan and I, along with Bono, believe that the God we serve is not short on cash.  And so while we’re not 100% sure where all the adoption funds are going to come from, we do have some inklings and we are making adjustments.

Some of you may have heard me proclaiming from the rooftops a couple of months ago that we were going to finally put my Suburban to rest and get a minivan. We saved and saved and saved and saved and were ready to put down a wad of cash on a Sienna when my husband heard the call to adopt again and I began dreaming of a little Asian boy in glasses running through my house.  So, despite my longing for a car whose doors open at the press of a remote and 17 cup holders and rows that fold quickly and doesn't constantly have a flashing Check Engine light, we’ve squashed that dream.  Or, at least, we are delaying it.  Because despite the Burbans troubles and dents, she is paid for.  

I gotta tell you, giving up a minivan seems like a much bigger thing to give up than Christmas cards.  I'll try not to exagerrate when I tell you that it was not a decision that came without tears.

So, perhaps in an effort to keep the Sienna dream alive, I came up with the idea to do fundraisers for the adoption: a yard sale, joining the BlogHer Ad network, figuring out some craft I can sell on Etsy, a friend hosting a 31 party for me and donating some of her commission to us, applying for grants, and even just letting folks donate money to a fund for us.  It was this last item that was a bit of a sticky wicket for us.

Here’s the thing: on some level, I do feel that adoption has a missional component.  It is a re-enacting of the Gospel.  We are leaving our comfort zone to go and bear with an orphan and bring back a son.  So in that respect, it feels right to invite others on this journey by soliciting prayer and funds.  However, the gospel also shows us that Jesus’ cost wasn’t only his heavenly throne but his very life.  (Therefore a delayed getting of a minivan seems pretty trite by comparison.)  And it is our cost to bear.  If you want to bear the cost of bringing an orphan home yourself, you should probably adopt as well.  (But if, say, you’re like 70 years old and you have those burlap sacks of cash with the money symbols on the sides just sitting around, we’ll take a couple.)  (I’m totally kidding.) (No, I’m not.)

However, if we invite others to donate money, we invite others to judge how we spend our money.  (Not that some people really need an invitation.)  An acquaintance of mine suggested that if we really wanted to adopt again, we should get rid of cable and internet, cell phones, pull Henry from preschool, never eat out again, never do date nights or birthday parties or presents again.   

Ummm…no.   

I need date nights and the occasional Steak Queso burrito from Qdoba.  And my husband, who works from home when he's not traveling, needs the internet.  And I could do without cable but we just signed a 2 year contract and there are fees if we break it.  And now I feel like I have to rationalize all of the ways I spend money to you.

If I let people donate to us are they going to be ticked when they see me post pics on Facebook of the kids Christmas presents? Or my pins on Pinterest about planning Henry’s Angry Birds themed birthday party?  Really, that judgment is the other person’s sin to carry and not ours, but we still feel its condemnation.  

At the same time, trust me when I say we are being very intentional with how we spend our money as of late.  And you should be intentional with your finances as well.  Maybe you should donate to our adoption fund.  Maybe it would be a way for God to work in your life.  But maybe, if you see my Facebook movie theater check-in when we go to see the Muppets over Sloan’s Christmas vacation and all you can think is, “Gosh, movies are expensive, if I’d known they were going to be so decadent, I wouldn’t have sent them $25” we really would rather you not help us out.  Donate straight to an organization like Bethany Christian Services or World Vision.  It’ll be tax deductible anyways, whereas the Phillips family, as awesome as we are, are not a 501©3 non-profit.  

All that being said, I’ll straight up take a donation of a new Toyota Sienna.  Smoky Topaz.  Leather Interior with the entertainment package.  I am, after all, going to be hauling around three kids soon.  Or a new Honda Odyssey.  I’m not picky.

Lessons from the Island of Sodor

My mom gave Henry this Yearbook of all the new Thomas trains that have come out in 2011.  She brought two—one for him and one for her—so that he could circle all the items he didn’t have and then she’d have something to work with at Christmas.  He carries his little Yearbook around everywhere. All. the. time.  

Inevitably, the wait in car pool line is a running dialogue of all the trains and outbuildings he doesn’t have.  Never mind that he literally has over a hundred trains.  Wooden ones.  Metal ones.  Lego ones.  

Every time he rambles off all of the trains he doesn’t have I tell him, “Henry, you are blessed. Instead of listing all the trains you don’t have, why don’t you list and circle the ones you do have?”  

His angry whine echoes my own heart, “But I don’t want to.  I want these.  I don’t have Murdoch or Flynn or Daisy or Diesel or Battery powered James or Jet Engine Thomas.”

“List your blessings.”

“NO!  I already have those trains.  I want to think about the trains I don’t have.”

“Well, there are kids with no toys.  And no moms and dads.  So think about that.”

“Did you know there is a Misty Island Rescue Center?  I don’t have the Misty Island Rescue Center.”

Clearly, we both are missing the mark.

And I really oughtta listen to my own advice.  While I need to advocate for the children without Moms and Dads, I’d be a fool to miss out on being a Mommy to the two kids who are here.  Now.

So while I can’t be with the one I love, honey, I’m gonna love the ones I’m with.