Church, where have we been?

Church, Where Have We Been? (part 1)

I am not about to let this post go without putting it on my blog. The words this fellow adoptive mother put on her blog are straight out of every adoptive parents' heart. It is how we all feel. I am so ignorant about a lot of things but I know enough to realize we as Christians are not doing nearly enough. I wanted to post this to help others realize the dire need of orphans and that we are commanded to look after them. Please read with an open mind and heart. I got this off of thisgracefilledlife.blogspot.com

November is National Adoption/Orphan Awareness Month.  Most people don't know that about November;  At one time we didn't know...but we do now!  When I tell others that it is National Adoption/Orphan Awareness Month, the response that I normally get is, "Oh, that's nice."  I'm not satisfied with that response.  Here's why...There are millions - MILLIONS - of children with no mother or father.  They have no one to kiss them goodnight and tuck them into bed.  They have no one making sure that they have enough to eat.  Millions of children have nothing to call their own, not even the shirt on their back (if they have one) is their own.  Orphans are caring for orphans.  They're not allowed to just be a child.  When they are sick, there is no one to take care of them.  There is no medicine to make them feel better.  One million children are trafficked every year - CHILDREN being raped 30-40 times a day by men.  I could go on and on...  So an answer like "Oh, that's nice" is not enough for me. 
Their cries haunt my dreams, even when I'm awake.  I can't live like I don't hear them.  And yet, I feel powerless to help silence their cries.  So I speak...I tell people that it is National Adoption/Orphan Care Month.  I tell them that children need them.  I tell them that the Church is God's plan for the orphan.  And as much as I think I say it, it just isn't enough. 
I am going to say something that may offend some.  It may sound judgemental (I truly don't want to be, and have, with all sincerity, prayed that God would convict me when I am judging another).  So, with all love for the Body of Christ I want to know....CHURCH,  WHERE HAVE WE BEEN?!?  Why are there millions of orphans?  Why aren't we fighting for these children?  How can we go about our lives, and completely ignore what is going on - the absolute terror that children live under?  The orphan crisis is OUR crisis!  These kids are OUR kids...no matter what country they live in!  I know that this sounds strong.  I just don't know any other way to write it.  My dear friends, the Church IS (WE are) God's plan for the orphan.

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this:  To look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."  James 1:27

"Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute."  Psalm 82:3

Well, there is much more to say about this...much more that would bring hope.  And I would like to take the time to write about the hope this week.  Because there is hope!  God is at work....

I Don't Know!

I am blogging because I don't want to do anything on my to-do list today. It involves paying bills and menial housework. I am blogging because I am sick of writing thank you notes and cleaning up puppy pee. Every time I cross a name off my thank you list I remember someone else I need to add to the list. So I thought I would take a small break and blog. I'm feeling inspired. Funny how that happens when I should be doing something else. In nursing school when I had a test coming up to study for, my closets would always get organized, my underwear drawer: color-coded, the cans in my lazy-susan would be disinfected, my dog's teeth: flossed, you get the picture. I am a master at procrastination.

So this morning, I am pondering the whys and wherefores of life. Certainly this is a task I am up for after 6 cups of extra strong coffee and Dayquil. Who knows? I may re grout the bathroom later. Today I am entitling this "I don't know".  A lot of my quandaries come after a recent healthy dose of reality TV.

• I don't know what the age limit for skinny jeans is, but as far as I'm concerned, 29 ain't it.
• I don't know how a woman doesn't know she is pregnant.
• I don't know why some people think facebook is the appropriate venue to air theirs and their family's dirty laundry.
• I don't know why the man on "Man vs. Food" doesn't weigh 7000 lbs.
• I don't know why my son thinks it's OK to fart like it's his job. Seriously, why must this be passed off as "boys being boys"? Can't they hold it in at all?
• I don't know why potatoes can't come out of the skin mashed. How great would this be, GRITS?
• I don't know how my hair knows the moment I apply lip gloss. In a hot second it's all adhered to my mouth. Lip gloss, you and I have what is called a love-hate relationship.
• I don't know why half the customers in Wal-Mart look like a genetic experiment gone terribly awry. Unless you are Kid Rock, mullets and leather jackets with fringe went out in '94. And no, I don't think your butt is "Juicy". It looks like you were beaten in the rear with a sack of nickels. They sell perfectly appropriate apparel there. Buy some in your size.
• I don't know why the kids on Nanny 911 aren't in a zoo and the parents in jail. What a freak show.
• I don't know why males can't put the seat down AND flush. What is so hard about that concept?
• I don't know why my phone only gets lost when I have it on vibrate.
• I don't know why leg hair regenerates in 3 seconds after exposure to cold but it takes 2 years to grow out a bad haircut.
• I don't know why patients mistake RN for waitress. I did not go to school for 4 years so I could fetch snacks and water at precise temperatures of your choosing. What is it about being sick that makes all self-sufficiency go out the window?
• I don't know why people living in the US refuse to learn to speak English. Why must I learn your language to be able to communicate with you?
• I don't know why you think I want to hear your phone conversation when I sit next to your table in a restaurant.
• I don't know why you can't talk to me for 5 minutes without texting 7 other people. Really? Can it not wait? Or am I just that uninteresting?
• I don't know why people feel the need to ask me in hushed tones, "Will she be... black?", upon finding out we are adopting from Ethiopia. Of course!!!  If she's not black I'm gonna be worried! And black is not a bad word.
• I don't know why people feel the need to ask me "Why not adopt here?" I don't have to give you my list of 278 reasons why not here.

I feel better. I'm getting off my soapbox now. Feel free to send me some of your quandaries in the comment section. I'd love to hear them! I'm sure there will be more to add in a later installment. For now, I guess I should get on with my tasks and go find some dog's teeth to floss.  ;)

Blogging and Bellyaching

The thing I am discovering about blogging is that when you feel inspired, you are capable of hammering out tons of blog-worthy material. But, when you aren't feelin' it, you would rather have your eyeballs sand-papered than to blog about anything. This has been one of those weeks.


I have made a personal vow to myself and a select few, (Jesus) to stop belly-aching about all this darn fundraising conundrum. I may be living and breathing it, but you probably don't want to hear it. So, for the time being I am putting my "Show me the money" routine on the back burner. Upward and Onward!

Which I guess is why I am having such a time trying to think of anything to say. Hmm...

On the paper pregnancy homefront, I was able to cross off another item on our dossier-to-do-list today. Local police background checks are officially complete and notarized. Cheers and applause are appreciated and expected. There is nothing like getting one step closer to saying "My paperwork is all done and ready for Addis Ababa." That could be the last phrase I utter before I die. At this point, it seems likely that it will be. I am not really cut out for all this paperwork. Assembling the neccessary documents for an Ethiopian adoption is about as fun as herding cats. Let that mental picture sink in.

In that regard, it could also be said of housebreaking a puppy. Anybody want a full blooded brindle Boxer? He's cute and cuddly and loves to chew. 7 weeks old and VERY ready to be a part of someone's family. Our 3 year old, Brett Favre, sired him and he was our breeders fee. Lucky us. He looks just like his daddy, who, admittedly , is not the most intelligent of dogs. My carpet and Uggs are pleading for relief. All proceeds from the purchase of said puppy go to Stanley Steemer. He would make a child very happy and a certain mommy very happy in his absence. Only $150 to a loving home.



Moments before this was taken one of the dogs broke wind, hence expression on Christian's face.



Next week is Layla's Christmas Bazaar. We will be setting up tables at my sister-in-law's gymnastics gym. This is the brainchild of Meredith, my dear and much-appreciated social worker. There will be tables set up for vendors of Pampered Chef, 31, Canyon Candle Company, along with my homespun wares and possibly a jewelry company. All proceeds from this go to you-know-what.

Next week is also my 29th birthday or what I like to think of as my last official birthday that I will ever aknowledge. I feel it too. My left ankle is and has been swollen for 3 weeks thanks to full contact church volleyball. I have acquired a mysterious cold-like ailment that leaves me feeling like I was stampeded in a dryer by a buffalo with a seizure disorder. My week will be celebrated by utilizing vacation time and raising money. My husband has prior commitments because he obviously has no concern for his well-being and has scheduled his entire weekend at a church event. At some point in our lives he is going to learn that all I want and ever will want is a special date night, maybe weekend, for my birthday. I wouldn't care if it was to Taco Bell and the nearest Motel 8. Quality time is my love language. Unfortunately, he is not fluent.

Hopefully, dear readers, my creative mojo will kick in or I will be stricken with fantastic news that I must share before our next meeting.

Oh ye of little faith. :(

I do believe on my evening run I had an epiphany. Sometimes these little glimpses of intelligence and grand conveyance of knowledge are good. Sometimes, like now, they serve as a sobering, cold, smack in the face. I have a confession to make.

I am a doubting Thomas. How many times has someone said to me, "God will provide." or "Just have faith.". I hear them but I don't hear them. I have at times been, ashamedly so, been putting the brakes this adoption. I have haltingly taken each step as of late. I am afraid. Scared to the point of paralysis that we will get in over our heads and the funds won't come. As I was running the words to a Casting Crowns song, "Somewhere in the Middle" starting playing in my head. I ran even faster to get home so I could listen to it. For some puzzling reason that one isn't on my ghetto MP3 player. (I don't have an Ipod, and pathetically I stole the MP3 player from my son when he won it in 1st grade in a reading contest. Really, what 7 year old actually needs that?) I have come to the conclusion that if Casting Crowns or Taylor Swift haven't recorded a song about a situation that I'm in then it's not that big of a deal. Weird I know but this is my internal dialogue. Welcome to my world.

This is my epiphany and how the song fits into it. 

I did not wake up one day and say, "Hey, honey why don't we scrap our efforts to get pregnant, adopt. Not just from anywhere but let's make it super hard and go international. Let's adopt an orphan from Ethiopia and put our lives on hold, go in debt $30,000 and donate every waking minute to trying to raise money and jump through hoops of 2 governments. Whaddya say?'

Not once did I have any of those crazy thoughts. Nor did my husband. We never planned on adopting, certainly not from Ethiopia. I did not watch The Lion King and reap a burning passion for Africa. God placed all of these events in motion. Down to the smallest detail. Why is it that I can place my faith and trust in Him for my life, my salvation, and my eternity but not to provide for this adoption when it is clearly His will. Today I am asking for forgiveness for my doubt and unfaithfulness. It is absurd and stifling and I am over it.

 Mark11:22-23 And Jesus answered them saying, Have faith in God for verily I say unto you, That whosoever shall say unto this mountain Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea; and shall not doubt in his heart but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass; he shall have whatsoever he saith.

Jesus said that. Not just some ordinary guy, THE GUY said it. I'm tired of being caught in the middle. I'm ready to trust with reckless abandon and go forward with an unparalleled faith. I'm ready to move mountains. It's OK, He told me I could. :)

It's November? Seriously?

  OK so I have not been very johnny-on-the-spot. That's not news to me. I have always been gifted in the field of procrastination and generalized laziness. My attitude is the sole responsibility of one Miss Scarlet O'Hara. The old "I'll not think about that now. I'll think about that tomorrow." Well if it only affected me that would be alright I guess. But now I have to also consider that with each passing day it's another day that my child has to go in an orphanage. And not to mention, if I got my butt in gear, said child would also have a face. We have been on this adoption carousel since June. I'm ready to get off. I'm getting dizzy.
  On the bright side, all our home study lacks is 2009 tax return and a copy of Jarrod's license. There is that light at the end of the tunnel. And if I really put my mind to it I could have all my dossier cranked out by the first of December. But let's be honest, that's like 4 weeks away. I have plenty of time.
  My main reason for the procrastination is that there is not enough money in the ole adoption account to cover the fees. Once this ball gets rolling there is no stoppin it. I awake at night in a dead fear that I will come up empty handed and they won't give me a child because I don't have the funds. Funny. This is where faith should come in. But I'm a worrier. Guess you didn't know that yet. Worrying is a sin. I wish that mattered to my subconscious.

  This week I am concentrating on more fundraising. The mall is having a craft fair and since I'm so crafty, I have signed up to host a table. Now this seemed easy enough. Salt scrub, doggie neckerchiefs, UK and Breast Cancer Awareness ornaments, and microwaveable rice bags.(like homemade heating pads, not for human consumption.) I have learned that the seemingly easy things usually aren't though. I won't even get into how difficult arranging this stuff has been. But we have it all mostly ready to go. I just pray (and worry) that we sell a lot of product. I am hand writing thank you notes with this blog address on about 100 cards to hand out with purchases.
  I am deeply thankful to my mother who once again has come to my rescue to help with all the assembly and sewing. And to everyone that buys something. A thank you seems so simple but I truly am grateful. Every dime gets us one step closer to her. Right about now it seems like I am about a tragamazillion steps away.
  So I tell myself that this week I am focusing on the craft show. Next week , maybe H&R Block. Who knows, perhaps the next week I may even wheedle enough time out of my schedule to get some medicine for my dog's inoperable cancer.

Bitter or Better?

Then Moses led Israel from the Red Sea and they went into the Desert of Shur. For 3 days they traveled in the desert without finding water. When they came to Marah, they could not drink the water because it was bitter. So the people grumbled against Moses saying, 'What are we to drink?'
Then Moses cried out to the Lord, and the Lord showed him a piece of wood. He threw it into the water and the water became sweet.
There the Lord made a decree and a law for them and there he tested them. He said, 'If you listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God and do what is right in his eyes, if you pay attention to his commands and keep all his decrees, I will not bring on you any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians, for I am the Lord who heals you.                         Exodus 15 22-26

(It's about to get personal and ugly.)
So there I was. Sitting in church on a beautiful October day. Still basking in the glory of a UK win over those filthy gamecocks late last night. Thinking about how angry I was. How unfair people are. How uncaring others are. How, I don't for the life of me, understand why we find ourselves in this situation when all we are trying to do is fulfill the will of God. Our preacher stands up and says to turn to Genesis. Then he stopped and says to turn to another passage, the one above. He says to the congregation that all of a sudden the game plan changed and the Lord was leading him to preach this other message instead. And it was for me.
Rewind 5 months. In May when we chose to pursue an international adoption I was gobbling up all the blogs and YouTube adoption videos I could. I became acutely aware of the dire orphan situation in Ethiopia. The Lord revealed to me passages of scripture I had never realized were there, though I had read them many times. My favorite has since become James 1:27. Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." And now we were obligated to to something because according to Proverbs 21:12
Once our eyes are opened, we can't pretend we don't know what to do. God weighs our hearts and keeps our souls, knows that we know, and holds us responsible to act.
So automatically I figure all the good christian people in our lives, (work, church, family) will rally around us. They would all make certain to show us their support and faithfulness, taking it upon themselves to provide for our adoption whether it be financially or in prayer. We know enough people that it would not be difficult to have at least half the money in a few months. Our church family would pour out their love and devotion on us, knowing in their hearts that they were really using this to serve God. He has commanded us to care for the orphan. We are perpetually involved in missions and this isn't so different. At least I didn't think so. Not only on a personal, selfish level because it would be bringing home our child, but it would be following His commandments.
Now a funny thing about most scriptural bible-preaching churches in America; the plight of the orphan is not preached. There have been books written about "the whole in our gospel", which is actually the title of one of the books. I'm not getting on my soap box but it's intriguing to me. It's just not discussed. I wonder if the American Dream lifestyle has anything to do with it. We are so wrapped up in our lives, pursuing wealth, education, and the optimal life for our family that we forget about the other side of the world. The side where a mother has to prostitute herself out to villagers so she can have money to feed her 6 children. Or in Uganda where a mother makes her own alcohol to sell so she can buy food for her family. When the alcohol doesn't sell and there is no money she gives the drink to her kids at night before bed so they won't feel the pangs of huger. In our world we can't imagine a mother dying in childbirth and the father having to give the baby up for adoption because he can't afford formula. Can you imagine having to look at your kids and choose which ones to give up for adoption because you can't provide food for all of them? You know that you will never see them again. This is the reality in Ethiopia. In most of Africa. The cost of the pizza  you got on Saturday while you were watching football would have fed a family in Ethiopia for a month.
Fast forward from May to October. Guess what? The rallying that I thought would inevitably happen has not. I have allowed myself to get bitter about it. Family that I knew would help us have not. Friends that I knew would help us have not. The support from most of these christian people we know has been underwhelming. And I have spent many hours asking God why. Why after everything we have already been through are you allowing this to happen? More disappointment and discouragement. But he used Bro. Reggie on Sunday morning to speak to me. I realized that I'm in a place like Marah. And I am like the grumbling children of Israel. I was choosing to stay there and drink the bitter water instead of moving on to Elim. If we will just listen to God and do what he is telling us to do, he is going to provide that piece of wood and give us what we need. I can't plan this out. I need to remove my expectations and planning.
 Disappointment occurs when expectations aren't met. I can't expect everyone to have a burden for Africa. The Lord has given me that passion and I will have to wait to see how He uses that in my life. I can't allow satan to use my expectations of others to ruin this awesome journey that God is allowing us to travel on. This is not to say we haven't had support, love, and help from a lot of people. We have some in our family that have gone above and beyond. But it takes A LOT to get through an adoption. A lot of everything. Support, prayers, money, love, patience. More than I ever realized. More than I still realize. We are just in the middle of it. But, God will provide. We just need to take our expectations out of people and place it in Him. And maybe, He will use our story to minister to others about orphans. I hope, and pray, that our lives will touch and inspire others to take up their cross and spread the gospel and commandment for the sake of orphans like we are. Maybe it's our voice that He is planning to use.
Please please pray for us and other famliies adopting. Prayer is the best gift you can give another person.

In the Trenches of Adoption Fundraising
In the words of Curtis Hannah, I think I'm having a come-apart. While I love this cute, oh-so-southern sounding phrase, I don't think I like actually experiencing one. October is now upon us. Which means colder weather and winter is just a hop, skip, and a jump away. (I hate this for reasons already mentioned in previous postings.) But now it's time to get creative in our fundraising.

Now I know what you're thinking. "Y'all have made $9600 from yard sales! How much more could you possibly need?" No, I'm not secretly putting some of it back into my "breast implant surgery that will never happen fund". We actually still need about $17, 000. Adoption, more specifically international adoption, is NOT for the faint of heart. I would say the poor but let's face it, just because you don't have an extra thirty grand lying around does not make you poor. We as Americans are actually very wealthy compared with around 95% of the rest of the world. I just can't afford to fund my adoption without losing a little bit of my mind.

But I digress. Back to my come-apart.  No more yard sales due to the colder weather. I have mixed emotions about this. We still have a ton of donations sitting in my mom and dad's empty house that I don't know what to do with. And it was making us some good dough. But a small, OK a large part of me, rejoices that I don't have to spend another weekend haggling with white trash over a $0.25 Easter place mat.  Or listening intently as someone who is probably in better health than I laments over how they don't get enough on their disability check so they can't pay me 2 bucks for the box full of Carters baby clothes that are all practically brand new.

Now I am admittedly NOT the biggest fan of yard sale shopping. I would, in fact, rather slit my wrists with a  rusty butter knife than to go yardsaling. But I have never understood the haggling of these people. If you can't afford it, don't ask someone to take it for half price. And don't ask to take a quarter off of something. It's a QUARTER!!! Especially when you are lighting a cigarette off of another cigarette. You didn't have trouble affording those! And I was tired of having to be at the mercy of my family. They were all very great at helping us sort, price, set up, and box up everything. I never could have done it without the help of my parents, sisters, sister-in-law, aunts, and mother-in-law. Even some of my church friends helped. It was a huge production that worked like a well-oiled machine. But I felt guilty for monopolizing their free time with our sales. Below is just a small fraction of what all we had to get rid of. My parents' house looked like something off of Hoarders, and it became a part-time job all summer long.

So, back to my come-apart. Where was I? Oh yeah. The fundraising. I am sometimes very crafty when I want to be. For years, I have been making homemade sugar scrub to give as gifts. My mom went on a Senior Friends trip a few weeks ago. She said everywhere they went, there was salt scrub in the bathrooms of restaurants. All the old ladies went wild over it. They wanted to buy it but it was like, 40 bucks. She told them that I made it and then got the epiphany that we could sell it for Layla. So for a week we have been exploring our options and trying to find the best venue to hock our product. A little tweaking to my former recipe and Viola! We now have enough materials to sell 500 units of this stuff. But, I have nowhere to sell it except by word of mouth. I feel as if I know enough people that perhaps they could take it to their places of work and churches and sell it. But again, I find myself at the mercy of others. Pretty soon people are going to start running when my phone number flashes across the screen!

As soon as I can figure out how to get the abominable Microsoft Office to print labels, they will be ready to move. We have Amber Vanilla, Chamomile, and Peppermint scents. They are $8.00 each and of course, all proceeds go for Layla. This child will never know how many nights I have lost sleep trying to figure out how to afford her! By the way, if anyone can think of a way I can sell this stuff or knows of a business that would let me place some, please email me at jandjdawes@gmail.com. I am also looking into making breast cancer awareness Christmas ornaments and UK bottle cap necklaces and key chains.

My Golden Girls

THANKFUL THURSDAY NEWS AND VIEWS:

Thank you for being a friend

Travel down the road and back again.

Your heart is true.

You're a pal and a confidante

And if you threw a party,

And invited everyone you knew,

You would see the biggest gift would be from me

And the card attatched would say

Thank you for being friend.

Today I want to give thanks for my best friends. If you are lucky, you will have one person in your life to call a "best" friend. If you are blessed, you will have 2. If you are crazy fortunate, you have 3. You may think that it's impossible say that. I know it's so NOT impossible.

I have been calling Amy Merrick King my best friend since the day I was born. We are exactly 4 months apart in age. We lived next to each other our whole lives until college. We attended the same church. Her dad taught us how to drive. I think of her family as my own and she likewise. We accepted Christ as our savior at the age of 7 side-by-side. I cannot number the memories we share; church camp, school, Sunday afternoon playdates, boyfriends, arguments. We even met our husbands the same weekend! When I am with Amy, I feel like I am home. Our love for one another knows no bounds and is not divided by distance. Even when she lived in Thailand. And Kenya. And most recently Washington D.C. If it were not for her, my life would be a lot different. I'm not sure when or where I first met Amanda Stephens DeLoach. We were in the same psychology class in high school. We are both incurable smart alecks. I knew from the moment we first spoke that we were going to be great friends. She introduced me to Jarrod. When I found out I was pregnant she was beside me, with the same expression of horrified disbelief. Amanda knows me better than I know myself. Her sacrifical love for me knows no end. If I needed help moving a dead body, I would call her. If I were arrested for disorderly conduct, chances are good she would be sitting in jail beside me. We would call Amy to come bail us out.

Tabatha crossed my path 3 years ago in the form of a coworker. I remember the first night she reported for work in Peds. I looked at her from across the table and thought, "Wow, this girl sure likes her eyeshadow!" I could have found a better picture of us but I know it will aggravate her to no end when she finds out I have put this on my blog! Tabby has been in the recesses of my infertility struggles right beside me. She has prayed with me, cried with me, laughed until we were near incontinence. We have driven around Lexington in the dead of night, windows down, blasting Tupac. People that work with us tell us we are like Laverne and Shirley. We argue until everyone around us is in stitches with laughter. Did I mention she is funny?

I know that these beautiful women are, will, and have always prayed for us. I know that I don't deserve such trusted, beloved, intimate friends. I know that I could ask anything from them, and they would do their best to make it happen. I know that I love each of them like sisters. I am lucky.

Wastin away again in Margaritaville...

Anyone who really knows me well knows that I don't particularly relish the fall season. As today is the first official day of fall, I have been trying to not dwell on the fact that I had to work on the very last day of summer. :(

In a sick twist of fate, I spent the last hours, the last full day of summer 2010 indoors from 5am until 10pm. Today however, I have been off all day. Sure, I know it was like, 98 degrees outside today. But, the fact of the matter remains. It is fall. Summer is no more. And to me it is, like every year, pretty sad.

I admit it. I really get sad about that. All my life, I have LOVED summer. The hotter the weather the happier I am. Blame it on my love of all things Jimmy Buffet and Kenny Chesney, who has unwittingly turned himself into this generation's Jimmy Buffet. Blame it on my obsession with flip flops, which I own more than any one girl should to be honest. I will be wearing them in November trying to convince myself that we live in a climate that I can do that in. I love movies about summer. I love songs about summer, as aforementioned. I love laying out in the sun. (It's apparent to me that at 28, I am still trying to convince myself that I love laying out. I really don't but I don't like being the whitest white girl in the room either.) Luckily my daughter won't have to fool with such nonsense like sunbathing.

So in an effort to convince myself that fall really isn't that bad I have made a list of Pros and Cons. Here goes nothing.

• Football.I am quite fond of football. Basketball pales in comparison to football. There is only one type of basketball I will watch (UK). I will watch any football game.


• Uggs. I don't know how I existed before I discovered these wonderful boots. It is like putting your foot inside a sheep. So soft and luxurious. I have walked all over New York City in the dead of winter with these boots on and no coat. They are that warm. My husband does not understand why anyone would pay $165 for a pair of ugly shoes but he is truly the LAST person to lecture anyone on expensive ugly shoe addictions.


• Apples. I don't really care for apples but it seems the majority of people link fall to apples. I guess if I had the patience to peel them every day they would give me more pleasure. But I do not. I was just trying to look on the bright side.


• Changing the closets. This is probably the worst Mom job in the history of Mom jobs. Not only do I hate the endless laundering and general exchange of clothing, but every year I am left wondering how I ever got the clothes into that tiny Rubbermaid container the season before. It seems like they multiply. There are always renegade articles that get stuffed into Walmart bags on top of the main container in hopes they will be seen again in 6 months and not get sucked into the Black Hole of Lost Clothes. And not only do you have to do your closet, but your kids' too. I'm starting to wonder why we just don't donate all the stuff to Goodwill and buy new stuff every season. That seems like much less work and more fun!


• As the weather gets colder I start to dread taking out the dogs to potty. There is nothing like having to stand in your nightgown and flip flops (or Uggs) at 4:30am with Sniffy Longdroppings on the other end of the leash in the freezing cold. Boo on that!


• Winter. Fall leads to winter, which I hate only slightly less than a week long stomach virus. Nobody ever writes romantic songs about winter.


• Basketball. Yeah I know that basketball is a winter sport but for die hard Cats fans, we all know that Big Blue Madness is in October. This is the first public practice for the new team. In years past, I had lost my passion for Big Blue Madness when UK was in the throes of mediocrity. But my passion is definitely back from the brink. In John Calipari will I trust!


• September. The 9th month of the year is Christian's birthday. My baby will be 9 on Tuesday. I got to meet my saving grace in September. And most of the month it is still officially summer.

I guess I will have to suck it up because there is no way to stop the changing of the seasons. And this will hopefully be the last last day of summer that we will be a family of 3.

Thank God for Blind Dates and Trolls

At the age of 19 I was in flux. C'mon who wasn't at that age? College wasn't a priority. I went to class about as often as Kanye West does something intelligent. I had no real motivation or inspiration. I was just existing.

Enter, the love of my life #1. My best friend Amanda was dating a troll. This troll had a friend. This friend was, umm a little tiny bit of a rebel with an even tinier bit of a desire NOT to be hidden deep within. A tragic event in his life caused him to reveal his desire to settle down and find a gal he could be serious about and love for forever.

Enter me! The Troll and Amanda had the epiphany to introduce us on a blind date at the infamous Briar Bowl. On a Sunday night in December I was at a church Christmas party, trying to back out of what I got myself into. I had no makeup on. I was dressed in a ratty pink fleece hoodie and mom jeans. My mother, God bless her, pushed me out the door. She explained that I had commited to this and could not stand him up. It was bad taste. Whatever, Mom.

So I showed up looking like a hot mess, hoping that would be enough to scare him off. There he was at the air hockey table. The first thing I noticed was not how handsome he was. I was blinded by the ugliest yellow shirt ever made and the flash of 2 ginormous cubic zirconia earrings. Then I locked my eyes on all the tattoos on his arms. What was he, a gay trucker? Did Amanda not know me at all?

So I was there. I had to at least bowl 1 game and not be a total loser. We bowled. I'm sure I lost. Wii is the only bowling I do successfully. I don't remember a single thing we talked about. At 10 Amanda and Troll left. Jarrod and I went to the Sugar Shack which Amanda's dad owned. We sipped coffee and talked about our mutual love of Florida State football, mustangs, and Brett Favre while Mullet Randy brought us doughnuts. (Mullet Randy will live in infamy as he once chased a robber out of the Shack and threw his cowboy boots at him. He later hung himself in prison. RIP Mullet Randy.) It wasn't long before I was noticing the prettiest blue eyes I had ever gazed into and not the QVC diamonique earrings. Or before I was commiting to memory the way his mouth pulled to the side in the cutest way when he smiled. ;)

There we were. Falling in love when we weren't even looking. We talked about things most couples don't discuss until they are engaged. I called Amanda as soon as I got in my car and told her she had just introduced me to my future husband. I told my mom as soon as I got home that he was the man I was gonna marry. I'm certain, though they did not speak it, both thought I was unstable. Guess we showed them!

6 months later we were married. Less months than I care to admit, we were parents of a bouncing baby boy. Enter the love of my life #2.

If I hadn't gone on that blind date I so desperately tried to bail on, if Amanda had not had the misfortune of bad taste in boyfriends, if my Mom hadn't guilted me in to obliging my hastily-made commitments, I would have missed my purpose for existing.

When I was a little girl alone in my little world, I had a dream. I would play with my dolls for hours, wishing for the day when I would hold my own babies. I would try to picture my husband, call him something generic like Michael. I would drive a Camry which I thought was the coolest car ever! (Thanks to Norman and Cindy, who I thought were the coolest parents ever.)

Now here I sit, eating cold macaroni and cheese surrounded by 2 fat drooling Boxers, one named Brett Favre, waiting to go pick up my almost-9-year-old. We are going with Daddy to a football game later to the high school from which I graduated, longer ago than I care to admit. I drove a Camry until the windows fell out of it and it wasn't such a cool car at 26 as it seemed when I was 11. We aren't what I pictured when I was a little girl. My babies are coming from Africa, not my body. But I'm surrounded by love, filled with pride for my now preacher-husband who still has tattoos that I pretend aren't there. And I thank God for the Troll, and for always knowing what's best for me.

I have been thinking a lot about infertility lately. I know others around me are being touched by it right now. But it's one of those things that when you're in the midst of it, you feel as if you are all alone. In life when you experience a loss, people around you offer words of comfort. When you are infertile you experience a loss every month. There is no one to comfort because nobody knows. No one understands the pain of that loss except you. A baby was lost that never was. A dream evaporated that never saw the light of day. Your arms are empty. Everywhere you look there are pregnant women that are not in your mirror, and chubby babies that don't belong in your arms. It is the most lonesome and isolated I have ever felt in my life. I would not wish it on my worst enemy.

Almost from the time I realized we were infertile I decided not to let that pain be in vain. I tried hard to let everything be for the glory of God. I felt convicted to not pursue infertility treatments. I KNEW that God did not want that. At the time I did not know why. Now of course I realize it was because he was preparing us for bigger things. For 4 long years, I prayed to my Savior to relieve this suffering. I did not see God working. I pled for Him to send us a child. In my heart I was growing bitter. I fought hard to keep my faith. I plunged into scripture allowing it to speak to my heart. I grew bitter. As bad as I hate to admit it. I wanted to bring my Father glory but I sometimes wanted a baby more. But He was greater than the pain.

A year ago I started praying for Him to remove the desire I had for a baby. I knew at some point there would be no baby, I just need him to give me peace to accept it. And he did. My great, sovreign God, who had listened to my tears, and rage, and desperation for 5 years began to close off all the displeasing emotions that had my heart twisted inside out. He removed the desire for a baby, and I thought that was it. I started getting used to the idea of mothering a lonely only child.

Then on a cold, sunny Sunday in March, my husband, whom I had never spoken to about adoption, casually mentioned that he might be open to the idea. Within 3 days 3 different people brought it up. Then I had a dream. A dream in which I was holding a beautiful black baby in a pink dress and a big bow. Her name was Layla. When I awoke the next morning I looked up the name. Layla means "dark beauty".

I try to approach this with caution, but I truly believe this was a vision from God. Especially when my sister had the exact same dream.

I never would have chosen to be infertile. I never would want someone else to feel that pain and loss. I never would have pursued adoption. I certainly didn't think I would have an Ethiopian daughter someday. I never want to go through a valley as deep as the one I have just come out of again. I would never change an element of the journey that has brought us to this point.

This is the face that changed my family's life. The face that I saw when I was searching for answers. When I heard a small voice calling me to do more. To act now. To open my eyes and see beyond the statistics and know the people behind them. This face of a 4 year old little boy more than half way around the world had that power. Once I saw this face and that face had a name, (Tedi) I knew God was about to blow the doors off of our reality and take it to another level. My friend Natalie, whom I had just met for the express purpose of finding out a little about Ethiopia and the adoption of its orphans, slid the picture book across the table to me. I opened it up and looked into the big sad brown eyes of her son and that was my undoing. They were waiting to pass court in Ethiopia so they could go and meet him and bring him home forever. Her strength was unwavering. She was meant to be a mother to this boy just as much as she was meant to be alive. There were no questions inside her. There was only assurance that God had given this child to be hers and JT's. The road had been long and grueling. The wait had been almost unberable. The work to raise the money had been a lot! But through it all they rested in the fact that God was right beside them, leading them to Africa. Even though they had been in the valley of infertility, His perfect love had cast out their fears and frustrations. He had never let go. This is how I know we can do it too. As an adopting couple, it's important to have the support of others who have journeyed that road before you. Tonight as I write this Tedi is sitting between JT and Natalie on a couch somewhere in Louisville watching Toy Story. (As he has been since his arrival in early July!) And I rest in the knowledge that someday soon, our little one will be nestled on our couch with us, secure in the fact that she will never have to go to bed again without the touch of my lips on her forehead and the sound of Jarrod's voice, telling her how much he loves her and how happy we are to have her here with us. Forever.

After much encouragement (and pressure :) )I have decided to chronicle this journey to our daughter in a blog. At present, I don't know what in the world I am going to write about. We are accumulating a lot of paperwork and not much else is happening. It all feels very tedious.

This weekend will be our 4th yardsale. We have managed to raise $55oo so far with these yardsales. All of the items have been donated by friends, family, and fellow church members. When I came up with the idea to have these things, I never dreamed we would make so much money. The kindness of the people who have donated items has been overwhelming. So many have given so much. We are greatful to all that have helped us and worked so hard too. Believe me, it's a lot of work. I will never want to have another yardsale as long as I live when this is over with! But, when it's all said and done, and I look into my daughter's face, every second of this labor will be worth it.

Speaking of labor, my sister shared with me a nugget of wisdom that someone told her about our adoption. They were talking about the yardsale and all the work that's gone into it. The lady told her this. "There's more than one way to labor a child into this world." I thought that was quite a simple and profound way to sum it up!