Our Little Money Tree

I've been wanting to write this post for a while.  I keep starting it in my mind and then hesitating before actually typing anything.  You see, I want to talk about money.  And money is such a sticky, personal, might-totally-step-on-someone's-sensitive-toes topic.  (If you know me, I'm not really a step-on-someone's-toes kind of person.  I'm more like a run-if-someone-gets-their-toes-near-me kind of person.)

But the same thoughts keep coming to my mind.  The same words keep swirling around in my head.  And they need to be said.  So, if you have sensitive toes, please step reading right now.  (If you decide to keep reading, you can't say I didn't warn you.)

I have to tell you about our little money tree.  It's hidden away in a shadowed corner of our backyard.  It doesn't need water or sunshine, and - instead of flowers - its blossoms are hundred dollar bills.  In the late summer, there are thousands of them: green, crisp, and ripe for the taking.

Our money tree is why we decided to adopt, you know.  We saw the cost, looked out our back window, and figured we easily had it covered.  There are thousands of dollars just hanging out there, after all.

Agency fees?  Check.

Airplane tickets?  No problem.

Fifty-seven sets of wildly-expensive fingerprints? On it.

Or maybe not so much.

In real life, the only tree in our back yard is a maple.  Sadly, it doesn't grow fruit...or blossoms...or hundred dollar bills.  In real life, I'm a stay-at-home mom, and my husband is a pastor.  In real life, when we learned how much our adoption was going to cost we had no idea where the heck we were going to come up with that much money.  (Because, you know, it was enough to buy like half our house.)

Here's my biggest confession yet: in our real October 2009 life, we didn't have the $600 we needed to pay our agency's application fee.  Seriously.

But we had prayed about adoption.  We knew there were thousands upon thousands of children waiting...and waiting...and waiting.  To be loved.  To be held.  To be kissed goodnight and told they are special.  We had room for more little ones in our home and in our hearts.  We felt God calling us to start on a journey, and we knew the God calling us was a big God.  Bigger than $10,000.  Bigger than $100,000.  Bigger than anything we'd need to go where he was taking us.

So, on October 5, 2009, we scraped up $600 and started this crazy adventure.  And, wow, it hasn't been easy.  It's been rough and full of unexpected bumps and, at times, take-your-breath-away painful.  But God has shown himself to be big...really, really big.

When all is said and done, our adoption is going to cost about $41,000.  (Yes, there are three zeroes in that number.)  Since that day in October - thirty-two very long months ago - God has slowly, steadily, extraordinarily, and very ordinarily provided the finances for each step of this journey.

Two weeks ago, I sat with another adoptive mama (and amazing friend) and marveled at the fact that we were more than halfway done with the financial part of our adoption.  God had provided $22,500.  I told her that if we had to take out a loan for a chunk of the remaining amount, that was 100% okay with me because it would be 1000% worth it. (After all, people take out $10,000 car loans every day, right?)

That was two Sundays ago.

Last Thursday we found out we'd received a grant for $13,500. 

I know I've said this once or twice, but our God is big.

Thirty-two months into this journey, we are almost there.  The amount we have left to save has gone from a seemingly insurmountable cliff to a speed bump.  I'm dismally failing in my attempt to come up with the right adjective to describe how we're feeling right now. 

Why am I sharing this potentially-toe-damaging information?  Because there's something incredibly important that I want you to hear when you read it.  Here's what I'm trying to communicate.  We don't make tons of money.  We're haven't won the lottery or received a gigantic inheritance.  We don't have a little money tree.  We're just a family who wanted more children.  A family who felt God calling us to care for the orphans.  A family who imperfectly and with lots of stumbling is trying to follow God's plan.  

I want you to hear this because maybe one of you reading this has considered adoption.  Maybe you've felt a little tug on your heart when you've heard about orphans or watched a family welcome a new child into their home or read an adoption blog.  And maybe you've said, "We can't adopt.  We don't have $XXXX.  There's no way on earth we could come up with $XXXX."

I want you to hear that you're wrong.  That the God we serve is our Provider.  That he's not short on money, and that he does unbelievable things when we step out in faith to follow his leading.  I want you to hear "God is big" when you hear our story.

I want you to know that - little money tree or not - you could do this crazy thing too.

Life's BIG Questions

Today I wrestled with one of those deep, thought-provoking mom questions 

that just has no easy answer:

Do I let her wear that in public?

With A Little Help from Our Friends...

If you read this post, you got a chance to meet Miss Raya.  This sweet girl spent two weeks in late April/early May hanging out with Li'l Miss and me while her daddy was in the hospital fighting meningitis.  If you didn't meet her, here she is.  (Because, really, can you get enough of those blond curls?)

Raya's mommy, Jenn, is one of my close friends.  We went to college together and then ended up teaching at the same elementary school.  We spent five years trying to wrangle crazy kids down the hall from each other...and managed to have a few other fun adventures.

Jenn's husband, Ben (yes, they're all cute and rhyming like that), was hospitalized at the end of April with viral meningitis.  Ben spent two weeks on an ICU floor and two weeks in rehab.  During this time, he dealt with some pretty scary stuff: hallucinations, double vision, severe headaches. 

The day he was to be released from rehab, Ben's doctors determined that he still had meningitis.  Two days later, he was transferred to a university hospital.  During his five-day stay, his meningitis symptoms improved tremendously - so much so that he was able to come home last Friday; however, Ben's doctors began to suspect that he had an underlying condition that was making his body vulnerable to the meningitis.  They ran several tests to get an idea of what else might be going on in Ben's body.

A PET scan and a tissue test led the doctors to believe that Ben might possibly have lymphoma.  Yesterday, Ben returned to the hospital for a lymph node biopsy.  Jenn and Ben should know the results of that biopsy sometime next week.

This is a family who has been through a battle.  I cannot imagine what it would be like to watch Jeremy spend five weeks in the hospital - to see him confused, hurting, and frustrated for days on end.  Jenn has done that with amazing patience and strength.  Jenn and Ben were hoping his return home last week would signal the beginning of the end of his medical struggles; now they've trying to process the news that the battle might just be starting.

Why am I sharing this story with you?  Because I know the indescribable value of support, love, and encouragement.  I know how it feels to have someone take your hand when you're walking in the darkness.  Right now, my friends need that kind of love.  So, I'm asking you, my bloggy readers, to pray for this family, to share Ben's story, or to give as you feel led.  You can email me at whatitmeans2beheld.blogspot.com for information about a benefit website that has been set up for Ben and his family.

Thanks so much!

Wednesday's Waiting Child: Jasper

Those of you who might happen to run into my husband, ask him what happened early this morning when I got up to water my sad little garden.  Here's a hint: the story involves me, in my pajamas, on an extension ladder.  Not the highlight of my day.

If you've been reading my blog for quite a while, you know that I used to occasionally post about children waiting to be adopted on Wednesdays.  I have met so many precious waiting children on this journey, and it breaks my heart that we can't bring them all home.  I've shared a few of these sweet little ones in the hopes that their family - or someone who knows their family - might be introduced to them here.

I stopped my Wednesday's Waiting Child posts for several reasons.  The biggest one being that the country we were hoping to adopt from in Eastern Europe (also the country where most of the waiting children I was aware of lived) does not allow families to be matched with their child/ren before travel.   Also, this country was going through some drastic and unpredictable changes in their adoption process, and I saw many families "lose" the child or children they had hoped to adopt.  

I am not saying that these kiddos don't need advocates or adoptive parents; they absolutely do.  I would go back and finish our adoption process there in a second if a law change hadn't closed that door.  (In fact, I might possibly still be stalking occasionally checking this country's online adoption listings.)  I just felt uncomfortable encouraging families to fall in love with sweet little faces who were not truly available to be matched.  Let me make it clear that I am not uncomfortable encouraging families to adopt from EE or sharing the incredibly horrifying  situations that many orphans face there.

That being said, the process of being matched with a child in China is completely different.  There are many, many Chinese children (close to 2,000 at the moment) who are waiting for families.  China's adoption process allows these children to be officially matched with parents long before travel.  In fact, the majority of these children can be matched with parents who have not even started their adoption paperwork.  (Yes, that means many of you.)

So, now that I'm again meeting precious waiting children that I would love to bring home, I've decided to start my Wednesday's Waiting Child posts again.  The little boy I want to introduce to you today is an absolute doll, and I'm calling him Jasper (since I love that name and Jeremy will never, ever, in a thousand years let me name one of our kids that).

This little guy has had a rough year.  He was matched with an adoptive family last summer.  In March, they decided not to continue with their adoption.  (This decision was totally personal and had nothing to do with Jasper.)  Since then, Jasper has been waiting.  Waiting for another mama and papa who have room in their home and their hearts for one sweet boy.

Okay, I can't wait any longer to show you a picture of this  little man.

I know.  I want to squeeze him too.

Jasper is four years old.  His special need is repaired meningocele (meaning that he had surgery to fix a moderate form of spina bifida).  Obviously his spina bifida hasn't slowed him down.  His file says that he walks and runs "very well".  He can stand on one foot and walk up and down stairs.

Jasper seems to be receiving very good care.  He has lived with the same foster family since he was less than a month old.  (Amazing!)  He attends school, and his mental development is on track.  Jasper likes to play outside with his foster mother, and he will sometimes recite the songs he's learned at school to her.

The pictures of Jasper in the white sweater were taken in October 2011.  I have access to his file and can share more information with anyone who might be interested.  Just shoot me an email at whatitmeans2beheld@gmail.com.

Jasper is considered Special Focus, meaning that he can be matched with a family who has not yet started the adoption process.  Also, he is currently on an agency-specific list, but his agency has said that they will transfer his file due to the special circumstances with his first family.

Feel free to share this little guy's pictures and information as you feel led.  He's been through so. much. in four short years.  It's time he came home to his family.

My Not-So-Green Thumb

My mom has a green thumb.  In fact, I think all of her fingers (and probably her toes) are green.  Flowers, cacti, veggies - they love her.  She even rescues plants from the trash.  No joke.  She's like the Plant Whisperer.

Me?  Not so much.  

 I may be like my mom in other ways, but my thumbs are not-so-green.  I've done okay with perennials.  (You know, those plants that live forever without water or attention.)  Here's the front yard that we inherited with zero landscaping.

It looks pretty decent, right?  Especially if you ignore the dying evergreen next to the front steps.  (I'm so sorry, little tree.)  Vegetables, on the other not-so-green hand, are my downfall.  Here are the veggies I was given two-and-a-half weeks ago recently.

You have to give me props for putting them next to hose where they have an ever-so-slight chance of being watered.  But, they're not in the ground...and half dead a tad underwatered.

(Don't hate me, cucumbers.)

Here's the cute little garden that my amazing husband composted and tilled for me.

A whole seventy-two square feet of nutrient-rich topsoil.  I know that sounds like a lot, but it's really just a fancy way of saying 9'X8' or not real large in garden terms.  I asked Jeremy to make it a little bigger, but he's apparently noticed what I do to tomatoes.

I'm sorry, little Sweet Cherries.  I really am.

 This morning I decided to change my ways.  I got up early, assembled my sad little collection of veggies, and voila!

I give you seventy-two feet of just-watered topsoil and sixteen survivors - ahem - plants.  You're all invited to my place for chips and salsa in August.

Well, maybe...

Li'l Dude's Happy News

DISCLAIMER: I really need to stop blogging after 11:00.  Consider this my apology for any incoherent mumbling or typos in the following post.  Must. Go. To. Sleep.

Since being matched with our older son in December, we've been able to learn quite a bit about him and his orphanage.  We got to send a vicarious hug when an adoptive mama stopped by his room while picking up her little boy in March.  That same amazing mama has given us six pictures of our son, tripling our photo collection.  I'm even part of a Facebook group of parents who are all adopting from Li'l Man's orphanage.  

Unfortunately, we haven't had the same luck with Li'l Dude.

We still have just three pictures.

And, cute as they are, three is just not enough.

We know he turned one in March, and that he has a blood disorder called thalassemia.  We've tracked down an awesome pediatric hematologist (Dr. O) who looked at Li'l Dude's file for free and assured us that he is 100% prepared to treat Li'l Dude's thalassemia once we get him home.

After reviewing Li'l Dude's file, Dr. O was pretty convinced that Li'l Dude has a less severe form of thalassemia (called thalassemia minor or thalassemia trait).  More serious thalassemia is treated with blood transfusions.  Depending on the severity, those transfusions can be infrequent (as needed or every few months) or scheduled regularly (as often as every two weeks).  When we said yes to Li'l Dude, we knew we needed to be prepared for his thalassemia to fall anywhere on that continuum (no transfusions or medication needed to transfusions every two weeks and daily chelation therapy).

There is currently a blood shortage in China.  Because of the shortage, some children with thalassemia are not receiving the transfusions they so desperately need.  Within the last month, an adoptive family lost their little girl just weeks before they would have been given permission to travel and bring her home.  Two other families arrived to pick up their children and discovered that their hemoglobin levels had fallen into the 4's - low enough to send them to the ICU here in the States.

Even though Li'l Dude's file looks good, we have been working to get an update to make sure that he is getting transfusions if necessary.  When we were first matched at the beginning of March, we requested an update but never heard anything.  Two weeks ago, we requested another update through a different contact.

Last Monday we got an email saying that Li'l Dude's orphanage is unable to give us new information because of a law change in China.  But...they agreed to answer a few of the questions we had included in our update request.

We learned that Li'l Dude likes toys that make sounds.  (Uh-oh.)

We learned that he can stand on his own and walk with help.  (Yay!)

We learned that he is outgoing and likes to play with other children.  (Hopefully he likes to play with crazy dogs, too.)

Best of all, we learned that Li'l Dude has never had a transfusion.  This is awesome news!  The fact that Li'l Dude is growing and healthy without transfusions means that he probably does indeed have a less severe form of thalassemia.  We have every reason to hope that he will never need a transfusion and that the wonderful Dr. O won't become our BFF after all.

So, while we still don't know much about our Li'l Dude. we are oh-so-happy for these little bits of information.  And I guess that obnoxious cute little talking Elmo shouldn't go in the garage sale pile after all.

My Li'l Princess

When I promised to blog every day for the rest of May, I didn't realize we'd be getting home way past my bedtime every night (or that I'd have to type really quickly to finish each post before midnight).  Yawn!  

But, I am determined to stick with it.  Tonight you get a quick peek at an impromptu photo shoot with Li'l Miss from earlier this week.  (You know, cuz dressing up like Cinderella and taking pictures in a cornfield is what you do when your super fun tia is visiting.)

If you're my friend on FB, you've probably already seen these.  Take a minute to scroll down to the very bottom anyway. You haven't seen the last picture, and it's the very best one.

And, just for fun, here's what was waiting for me on the table when I came home from grocery shopping this afternoon.  

Love notes from my three year old melt. my. heart.  

(And it's totally okay that she called me "Moo".  I still get it.)

Tomorrow I've got more really good adoption news to share.  Hopefully it will be posted before 11:59.  Good night, everybody!