I don't care if the glass is half empty or half full, I want to know who drank my water!

It's one a.m. and I just finished studying for the night.  Specifically, I just finished memorizing the paradigm for present passive indicative contract verbs in koine Greek.  Don't you wish you had my life?

Seriously, though, before I head to bed, I'm doing my part to keep this from becoming a total mommy blog :)  Heading to bed, I'm thinking about the past few weeks, of which our dying car was only one of several dramatic episodes.  And I'm realizing that I'm still struggling with perspective.

Lately, when people ask how I'm doing, all I can think about are the rough patches of the past few weeks and months.  I even told one naive would-be small-talker that I would defer answering his question until next week, when I would hopefully have a happier answer to "how was your weekend?"  And let's face it, the past few months haven't been easy on the emotions or the pocketbook.

But that's not even half the story.

For every trying moment, for every loss, for every stressful day, there are corresponding and conquering blessings.  Our car died, and we've had new friends and classmates loan us their vans until we could get a more permanent ride.  Our housing situation was up in the air for way too long, and in the end we landed in a great house with amazing landlords.  Unpredictable appliances and sick kids cut into (or totally cut off) my study time, and yet I'm still doing well in class.

I'm not talking about mere silver linings in the midst of our frustrations and losses.  These are the signs of God's abundant blessings in our lives.  And yet I always think first of the dark spots. I wonder if we've become so caught up in the entertainment value of drama in film and on TV that we seek to highlight the drama in our lives.  Life has drama, to be sure, and some lives have more of it than others.  But if all we focus on is the tension, the unfulfillment, the disappointment, then we aren't being true to the whole story.

I want to tell the whole story of my week- not in all the details, both mundane and extraordinary- but the story with all its contours.  I don't want to talk about the low points just for the sake of dwelling in them, but only insofar as they take me back up to the high points of God's redemptive work.

I'm not there yet.  Thankfulness takes discipline.  In the meantime, I may need to stop deferring answers and simply affirm to the people around me that God has been good to me.  Better than I deserve, better than I understand, and better than I'm willing to admit.

Comparisons and the Insecure Daddy

It's hard for me to watch people's reactions to Cosi. She's developmentally delayed- physically, mentally and emotionally. So when I see other parents reacting to her misbehavior, or when I see the concerned looks when she is obviously not acting like a 'normal' 4 year-old, I feel defensive.

April, too, feels defensive, but she feels defensive of Cosi, which is a lot better than what I tend to feel. I feel defensive of myself as a parent. Especially in East Asia, where I need to be the primary communicator for our family, I end up being quick to explain to everyone that Cosi is adopted, that she was in an orphanage for 3 years, that she has been in our home for only 9 months, and that she is really doing very well, considering all that she has going against her.

I want people to know that I really am a good parent and that when my daughter hits a child who gets too close to her, it's not because she's mean but because she's scared. She doesn't understand or answer most of the questions people ask her in English (let alone in East Asian) and that doesn't mean she's rude or stupid or that I'm slacking in teaching her. She's only been learning these languages for a few months! And usually she's just so happy to be around people that she can't focus on what they're saying. So I overexplain and try to justify my child, lest someone think less of me because of her.

And it is hard to watch other 4 year-olds (and even 3 year-olds) and notice the ways in which Cosi is delayed. Sometimes, though, the comparisons are helpful. I tend to blame all her problems on her history, but sometimes she's just being a normal 4 year-old! Four year-olds grab toys, disobey, refuse to eat, make messes, and act...well...childish. As April sometimes jokingly reminds me when I'm disciplining Cosi for something petty, "You're right Rob, how DARE she act like a little kid!"

*Sigh*

So it looks like I'm projecting my perfectionist tendencies onto my daughter. It looks like my struggles with grace and the gospel will continue to affect those I love. It looks like Cosi will suffer for my insecurities.

She really is doing well. Every day I need to pray again that God would enlarge my heart to accept and love her as she is, even if this is as far as her development goes. And day by day I'm encouraged by the growth we see, but afraid that this is as far as it will go. So the next step is to learn how to stop giving a hoot about what other people think of my daughter (and of me as a parent) and remember to show grace to my daughter...and to myself.

Redemption Works Slowly (Rob's Meditations)

I am touched and, honestly, a little surprised at the number of people who comment to me how they enjoy following Cosi's story and are encouraged by the beautiful picture of redemption that it paints. It's not that I don't think the story is beautiful or redemptive. The problem, I think, is that I'm still too deep in the story to see it for what it is. Most people are only exposed to the tidbits we find time to share on our blog or over email. A few people are close enough to us that they get a much fuller picture, and a few even join in Cosi's story themselves.

So while most people get to see the big picture and little else, I often struggle to see beyond the daily frustrations and disappointments. I seldom have time, especially these past few weeks, to consider the beauty of what is going on. I'm more consumed by failed efforts at potty training, figuring out how and when to discipline, and trying to dodge toys aimed at my head (or block the ones aimed for Trey). I daily (sometimes hourly) come face to face with her rebellion, stubbornness, and outright sinfulness so much that I'm blind to what it is all about. I feel like I'm missing the forest for the fleas. But really, that's not the case. The missteps, frustration and pain are an essential element of any redemptive story. It's not, "If I could just see past all these problems, I'd see the beauty." Rather, it's "When I see these problems for what they really are, only THEN do I see the beauty."

Now, as a father and theologian, I am in fact obligated to draw a parallel between this and the great story of the redemption of God's people. It's not that hard to do, though. I'm so caught up in my own daily frustrations, challenges, failures and difficulties that I fail to see how they're a part- a crucial part- of my redemption. What makes God's love for me so beautiful and shout-out-loud amazing is that it takes into account my missteps, tantrums, doubt, and rebellion. God's love knows that I am going to continue to live like an unloved orphan for a long time, that I won't immediately get used to being the beloved child of a Good Father. Redemption works slowly, and if it didn't, it wouldn't be as beautiful. But redemption also works inevitably, and if it didn't, we'd be hopeless.

So please, feel free to remind me that Cosi's story is beautiful. I need to hear it, maybe as much as I need an occasional babysitter and full night's sleep.

I'm trying not to be cyncial, but...

My suitcase was all packed except for the pairs of jeans still drying on top of the heater in the guest bedroom that has been my home for most of the past 5 weeks. I was backing up my hard drive, adding videos to my ipod, and planning my snacks for the night.

Today, the court decision became effective; today, Cosi became my daughter. Today, I was supposed to get on an overnight train, arrive there in the morning, pick up the documents from the courthouse, and then hold my little girl for the first time as her legal father.

And then our facilitator, Helen, called- she was in the hospital with kidney stones. At first, we discussed the possibility that I would still go out there alone, meet Pasha, pick up the document, and do what I could until Helen arrived, maybe a day behind me. But then Helen realized that I could do nothing. I am totally helpless- I can neither read nor fill out the forms I would need to use, and we don't know anyone there with enough English to help me out. Traveling all over Trans-Carpathia without a translator and with an adoption on the line just doesn't seem wise.

And then the kidney stones got worse- Helen has a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning. In a transparent effort to keep my hopes up, she says, "Maybe I will be lucky, I don't know. maybe we can go tomorrow." I can tell she is in a lot of pain and that she is also stressed because she knows how this will affect our timing (flights, etc.). I try to be as gracious and reassuring as possible, for her sake. And for my own sake, lest I become completely self-focused.

We will wait and see how tomorrow goes. At some point tomorrow, I need to bring up the possibility of her sending someone else with us. if this drags on for a few days, timing becomes a really big problem.

So another night in Kiev, another night spent wondering if my daughter remembers me and if she wonders where I am. Another night asking God why it has been such a long road with so many unexpected turns and roadblocks. Sometimes I feel this experience chipping away at my ability to trust God. I know he's in control, and I know he's trustworthy, but...

But I'm always afraid to finish that sentence.

Anyway, pray for Helen- a woman you don't know who is probably suffering incredibly right now, more so than the mental and emotional stress I'm sorting through. And at least I have some Oreo's to help me out.

Big Day

Monday morning, 10 a.m. Kiev time (3 a.m. EST) is the big moment. We've heard stories of first appointments that go well and some that go very poorly. In some ways, it all depends on "luck"- which children who meet our criteria are available at that moment. It's hard to see how God is in control sometimes. The journey here has been long and challenging, and when so much rides on the decisions and moods of a mid-level bureaucrat, doubt is a familiar companion. I know that the heart of a king is like water in the Lord's hand (Prov 21:1), but the Bible says nothing about red tape :-/
Seriously, though, I don't think I ever doubt God's power and sovereignty in this situation (or any situation, for that matter). Where I stumble is in trusting that his purposes are the best for us and will ultimately be for our greatest joy. In talking with a couple who has been repeatedly frustrated in their efforts to adopt here, I'm amazed by their trust that God is working out a good and perfect plan in the midst of their circumstances. I guess I pray that we could have that same faith.

A long, long road with a good, good end...A very personal update from April

April wrote (but never published) this post a few days before we got the good news that we would be able to travel to Ukraine in mid-December to adopt our daughter. Here it is- a glimpse into where we were at a few weeks ago:

Well, we were hoping this update would be joyfully announcing a travel date to pick up our daughter in Ukraine. However, our hopes don't equal reality. Ukraine has delayed our process yet again. The biggest problem has been that we're the first people in history to live in China and adopt from Ukraine. Ukraine officials are baffled at why two Americans would ever choose to leave “the heaven on earth of America” to move to China and they aren't inclined to grant our request.

Right now, we are getting new forms filled out and mailing them to Ukraine. Our hope is that they will soon grant us a travel date. Our prayer is that they will grant us a travel date and that the travel date might be as early as December (which would be a true miracle) or even that it would be in January (also a miracle).

How are we doing with all this? Well, I stayed home and cried all day on Tuesday. I cried so much that Rob had to leave work, cancel plans, come home and comfort me. I'm even crying right now, as I write this. Rob is deeply sad, as well. But, he tries to stay strong for me. I think he waits to cry when I'm not crying, but that chance rarely comes.

Right now, we are waiting to hear if our daughter (that we have been praying for and thinking about for two years) is dead to us. It's as if there is a child in my womb and the doctors have told me to wait 3-4 weeks to find out if the child is alive. I walk around, carrying the child in my heart, but I'm not sure whether to prepare myself for disappointment or to hope for the best. I know I should “trust God,” but I'm not always sure what that looks like or how to do that. Sometimes when I try to trust God, it looks more like complacency or detachment.

A friend recently instructed me that all things that happen in life are “God's best for us.” He said that my trials are all God's best for me, even if I don't see that. I disagree. I think that life before the fall was God's best for us. I think that God is still sovereign and that he allows bad things to happen. I even think that he is able to use those bad things and bring good out of them. But, I do not believe that they are God's best for us. I do not believe that prolonged illnesses, death, sudden accidents, war, starvation, AIDS, child trafficking, forced prostitution, slavery, miscarriages, broken families....are God's best for us. I think we are blessed to see glimpses of the best in this life, but I hope that the best is still to come. I think we will experience God's best for us only after the complete fulfillment of all things. Until then, I think we are left to trust in God's sovereignty and ultimate plan.

I recently heard a line in a song by Waterdeep, a line that is sticking with me: “It's a long, long road, with a good, good end.” Maybe it's because I'm melancholy, but I find a lot of comfort in acknowledging the long road and hoping for the good end. I know we all have our own long roads. We really appreciate it when people share prayer requests with us, so please feel free to respond to this. When others share struggles with us, it often helps me to take the focus off of my own situation and remember that there are so many ills to be made right in this world (of course, it usually takes me about 1-2 days of self-pity to get to this point).

So a lot has changed since April wrote these words. We’re not at the end of the long, long road yet, but a lot of encouraging things have moved us closer to the good, good end. Please continue to pray that the process will go smoothly as we travel there in 10 days. And thank God for moving paperwork quickly and for securing a travel date that doesn’t conflict with baby #2.

Acting Like It's Real

Rob here- up late, trying to bring our computer back to a shadow of what it was a few weeks ago (long unrelated story involving several reformats, 2 frustrated IT guys, and a lot of backed-up data finally being transferred back where it belongs now), and April is asleep on the hotel bed. We're out of town for a week so I can take a seminary class. It's late, and I'm trying to decide if I should just stay up until 4am and watch the play-by-play updates of the Steelers-Ravens game...

In the meantime, I'm meditating on a thought that occurred to me a few weeks ago. All of the paperwork that we can provide is now turned in. And hopefully it will be enough to satisfy the Ukrainian courts so that they will give us our little girl. As I was thinking about that, I realized how similar this adoption is to my faith. Not in the obvious, "we are adopted by God" sense- although that is true and very, very beautiful. I'm talking about something else.

She is my daughter. I know it in my heart. We pray for her, talk about her, plan for her, cry for her, and have even named her. But so far, all we have is a mountain of paperwork (a picture of which will go in her "baby book") and the promises of people we have to trust. My arms ache to hold her, and my imagination craves a real face to replace the ones I've fashioned for now. Some days (like some of the ones I've written about before) it's so hard to believe this will actually happen- that it's not just a fantasy, too good to be true. Other days, we get downright giddy making plans and talking about things to do with our little girl next year. Always moving towards the day when the faith will (hopefully) become sight.

Such is my life as a Christian. Some days, faith is easy. But many (most?) days, it's the feeling of, "this is too good to be true. it's got to be just a nice dream only true on paper." We push on because we believe that eventually the faith shall be sight. But until then we cling to faith while craving sight. I just act like it's real on the days when nothing makes it seem real.

Not a lesson I thought God was going to teach me through this. But then, he seldom goes with my lesson plans. Oh God, you and you sovereignty get me every time! Haste the day!