Front row seat to a miracle

Who are we to be a part of this miraculous story?

We are beyond humbled and in absolute awe as we see how God is providing for Benjamin to join our family. What seemed impossible is possible. $20,000 came in to pay for this adoption in two short weeks. It is miraculous and we have a front row seat in watching this miracle unfold! Gifts from family who are being so supportive, friends who aren’t calling us crazy (but blessed!) and even gifts from strangers – God has planted the desire on so many hearts to help this teenager find family.

Thank you. I wish I had more eloquent words, because these two small words in no way can convey the deep gratitude of my heart. Your gifts….they have encouraged us. They are making the way possible. They are placing a boy in a family. One less orphan. They are blessing our family with the treasure of another soul, and they mean the difference between us being able to do this or not. Huge. Thank you.

The paperwork is going at lightning speed and the invoices are rolling in – every need has been met and every deadline crushed. All of our paperwork to adopt Benjamin is being authenticated this week and we hope to have it sent to China next week. (In adoption lingo: our dossier will be sent to the CCCWA and we hope to have a letter of approval soon after.) Everything is on track for our family to grow by one at the beginning of the year. 5 short long weeks.

In between mounds of paperwork and grant writing, we are preparing as much as possible. We swapped bedrooms. The girls are now in the smaller room and the boys are in a room that will hold two sets of bunk beds. (That is a reality I never dreamt for my family!) Little Man feels all grown up in the top bunk with Mo sleeping up under him. I look at the empty space under the other bunk and long for the day to have it filled by the newest Williams. I thought this journey – because it is going so fast – would be easier. The waiting has always been the hardest part for me. This adoption is being expedited – the wait is nothing in comparison, but there is just something about knowing your child is sleeping in an orphanage. I can’t wait for those days to be done.

We would appreciate your continued prayers over this next month. Pray that each step of this adoption is expedited and that we will have Benjamin home by mid-January. Pray for us as we continue to prepare…not just our home but our hearts. A big transition is ahead of us, and we know we will need all the grace and mercy God can provide . Benjamin also is facing unspeakable grief as he leaves one world behind and enters this new one. Pray for his heart – for comfort, healing, and peace.

I hesitate to even write this next part, because you have all been soooo generous, but a few people are still asking how to give and how to help us on this journey. We have been given a matching grant through Brittany’s Hope. They will match dollar to dollar every gift given towards our adoption up to $5,000 which means we will end up with $10,000. 100% of the gifts will go to our adoption as they have generous donors who cover all of their overhead expenses. So if you are still feeling led to financially help us bring Benjamin home, then a gift towards this matching grant would be greatly appreciated. You can give your tax deductible gift here。 You can also share about this opportunity by giving folks this link http://www.brittanyshope.org/seedling/williams With this grant we will be very close to being fully funded. Amazing!

Thanks again for following us on this journey. I hope our next update will be telling you that we have all of our paperwork approved and that we were able to tell Benjamin that he will be joining our family.

How Mo became a US citizen.

We have had a time of it.  What was an easy process for our other two kiddos, getting Mo’s US citizenship has been one hurdle after another.  We were being told that due to recent changes in the process it could take up to 6 months to get his certificate of citizenship.  No big deal unless you need a passport and visa for your child in order to return overseas to your job!  After multiple attempts, much frustration and even with the advice of immigration lawyers, we were beginning to think we would need to give up teaching this semester and stay in the States to get it all figured out.

On  a Monday we were told that there was no way to have an appointment any sooner than 102 days.  On Wednesday of that week, an officer gave us a call and asked us to come for an appointment in 6 days for the much desired certificate.  We were thrilled.  Felt blessed.  Wondered how there was such a change. Of course, we soon found that it was a total God thing.

I sat in the office on Friday presenting all of the documents required listening to the story of our officer who was originally from the Philippines.  He knew first hand about poverty even though he is now living the American dream.  He spent the first several years of his life on the streets until he was taken in to a boarding school run by Americans who loved him, educated him and gave him a chance in life.  The officer told me how Mo’s profile on his application had reminded him of himself 60 years earlier.  “I wanted to help you help this boy like that couple helped me.”

I could hardly keep myself from crying in this man’s office.  I wanted to weep for the relief of finally having the documents we need to return to our Asian home, but snotty sobs threatened to overtake me as I realized how big this story is.  Only God can change a life 60 years ago and still have it paying forward today.  Amazing really.

I makes me pause.  Anyone who knows me even a bit, knows that I am a rubber meets the road type of gal.  If it isn’t working.  Don’t bother.  If I can’t see results then it needs to be changed.  But honestly, sometimes the things we are called to aren’t measurable.  For me, faithful is putting a lot of effort into things that I don’t know what the outcome will be.  That couple who started a school for street kids…their work is helping our work.  I am sure they never thought to put that down as a goal.  They never got to write a newsletter about how their projects would have world wide ripples.  I wish I could call that couple up – let them know how their work continues today – how their lives are impacting many.

This officer didn’t just help us get the papers we need to return to Asia.  His story reminds me not to measure our work based on what I can see.

We have the citizenship paper that we needed.  We were able to rush to Atlanta to get a passport for our guy and mailed it in for his visa which will give us permission to re-enter China as a new American citizen.  The visa….that is another whole God story and we will see how that ends!

By His own hand He leadeth me.

The decisions we have been making over the past weeks haven’t been easy.  Ironically, the hymn our family has been working at memorizing together is “He Leadeth Me” by Dr. Joseph H. Gilmore.  As we move forward one step at a time, we feel blessed to serve a good Father, who even had our homeschool curriculum present us with a hymn that reminds us that His hand is leading us even when life feels out of control.

He leadeth me. O bless-ed thought! O Words with heavenly comfort fraught!

I need that reminder as I pack up the youngest three members of our family preparing for a journey to the States that will not include their dad or siblings.  For sure, a two month separation would never be what we would choose (especially right after an adoption) but as we have pr@yed and talked to Little Man’s doctors we feel confident that this is what we need to do.

Little Man, Little Monkey, Moe and I will leave for the States May 8th.  We will land in Tampa, Florida where Little Man will have a bone reduction surgery on May 11th.  He then will have follow-up appointments over the next month.  6-8 weeks post-op they should be able to start making our guy a new leg.  He is looking forward to that.  He hasn’t been able to walk for three weeks and he already is tired of us pushing him around in the stroller.  He asked me to pack his old leg so that he would have it when he came out of surgery.  It wasn’t fun to explain to him that surgery wasn’t the only step towards getting him walking again.  The awesome thing about our Little Man – He has a joyful spirit and doesn’t let much get him down.  He has been telling everyone that he is excited to have surgery because the hospital has a great playground and the food in the cafeteria is wonderful!  That’s our boy.

Hubby and the oldest two kids will join us in the States as soon as the semester is complete – sometime the end of June.  We haven’t even left yet and I am already counting down the days. We then will all return to our Asian home the end of August.

Surgery isn’t the only thing that will keep us busy while Stateside.  We will be working at getting Mo’s immigration paperwork filed, will apply for his new American passport and be getting him a visa to return with our family to Asia.

We would truly appreciate you lifting up our family through this season.  So many transitions, goodbyes, and emotions will fill the weeks ahead.  Please specifically lift up:

  1. Me as I travel with an immobile kiddo and a two year old who has never done this world wide travel thing.  So thankful for Little Monkey who is one of my biggest helpers!  I know she will make the task much easier and more fun as she chats with me along the way.
  2. our new little guy…may Moe handle all of the transitions and continue to feel safe and loved in our family.
  3. for Little Man’s surgery and healing process.
  4. think of Hubby as he continues to teach his classes, finish homeschooling Soccer Dude and Roo, and keeps our home running while I am away.
  5. and last but not least, for our family dynamics and relationships.  Two months is a long time.

I know we travel a lot and our lives seem a bit on the crazy side….but really we are a family who enjoys pizza and movie/game night every Friday, shopping at the same veggie stand, and sipping hot chocolate and reading a good book equals an exciting night. Can I say routine?  The next four months are going to shake us up a bit – pr@y for us.

A new slower journey (plus a bonus adoption update!)

My dad is a story teller.  His fish are big, his journeys are long, and they are always uphill.

There is one story I vividly remember him telling me as a girl.  I have no idea if this is an original or true story – I just know it made an impression.

His story started with him being a lad on the farm with a chore to complete.  (I am sure he used the word “lad!”) His dad gave him a metal bucket to fill with water from the drudge ditch and bring to the big barn. It was a warm afternoon and as he carried the bucket he was enjoying the walk through the golden fields under the blue cloud filled sky.  To his dismay, when he arrived at the barn the once full bucket was empty.  He set out to try again aiming to please his father.  He went faster the second time around, but the pail still did not hold the water from the ditch to the barn…since it had a hole in the bottom.  Trying to get his chore done he tried many solutions: running, patching the hole with mud, and a few more that slip my mind.  (My dad is a better story teller than I.)

I recently thought of this story during a visit to a guest house in January.  It had been a long, hard, but very good semester.  Honestly, I think we could safely say the hardest semester we have had living overseas.  But, I also wouldn’t be lying if I said that I have learned more in this hard season than in the previous 10 years as an expat.  Maybe some day I will be able to tell the story of this semester, but for now you can just imagine me as a lad on a farm running hard trying to get my work done.

My natural reaction to a hard season…work harder, try harder, run faster.  The thing is, a bucket with a hole in it won’t carry water no matter how fast you run or how hard you try.

When I took time to slow down, reflect and get real with Jesus – well, the crazy thing is – I think rest is what He wanted to give me.  I don’t think He wants me to try harder or work faster.  I think He would be pleased if I simply would ABIDE.

I am not good at abiding.

Sabbath.  What?!

In general, I am not a disciplined person.  But when it comes to the spiritual disciplines, this is the one I am worst at.  I blame it on being a perfectionist.  I rationalize it away by saying that hard work is good for the soul.  I have small children how can I rest?  What will others say when they find out I had to take a break?

Really, it is pride.  All excuses that keep me from making space to abide.

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We took a much needed break.  Some very generous souls took over my responsibilities for several weeks to give us a rest and to allow us to attend a training conference.  I sat on the beach.  I went to bed early.  The dear folks who run the guest house for “workers” like us did our laundry, cooked all our meals and just gave us space to rest.  We made memories as a family and I read some great books (Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light: The Private Writings of the Saint of Calcutta and  In the Name of Jesus: Reflections on Christian Leadership by Henri J. M. Nouwen. Both so very good.  Read them.  You won’t regret it.) We took space to prepare for the next season, got more training, and fell on our faces before our Creator.

Through it all, I felt a still small voice in my heart asking me to abide – to stop trying harder and just trust Him.

I needed it.

We are now back home and starting a new semester.  Not just any old semester, but one that holds many demands, high stakes and a new baby (to us) as well.

Isn’t God so good to give me the generous gift of a break right before another busy season?

As we start classes again, put together a toddler bed, dive back into our homeschool books, soak beans for dinner, and pack for an adoption trip….I keep coming back to the idea that I don’t need to try harder.

We leave to go get our new son in one week…maybe two.  Ekkk!  (Did you read that little adoption update in this long, ranting, personal growth blog post?!  We also have a name for our new sweet guy.  Call me.  I will tell you!  A hint: his middle name is after that story telling grandfather.) With a new little one on his way, life isn’t going to slow down any.  I need to slow down my soul.  I am taking deep breaths.  Going to bed earlier.  Reading a few phrases of my book.  Smiling. Walking. Trusting.

Abiding.

I am on a new slower journey.  Tell me how you abide.  I could use some tips!

 

She squats

Once upon a time, a crazy American art teacher was super thirsty and downed a whole bottle of water before class began.  Half way through the class she had the desperate need to use the bathroom.  Usually she does not leave her dear art students in the middle of a messy paint project, but nature called.

At the orphanage the bathrooms are not private.  There are four squatty stalls with no doors.  On the first floor you can find an adult bathroom with more privacy, but the art teacher was on the 4th floor.  She wanted to be quick.  Other teachers have done it before.  So, she took her cue from those local teachers and slipped into the public bathroom, locking the outer door.

She heard the lock click.  All was good, until she heard a different class in the hallway.

She tried to hurry not wanting the kiddos to wait.  That should have been the least of her worries as the door began to rattle – then open.

“Someone is in here!”

The joy of teaching this group of special kids comes due to their innocence and curiosity.  That was not in Art Teacher’s favor when trying to keep the kids out of the bathroom.  Before she knew it, there was a mixed audience of 8 children as she struggled to finish with dignity.

They stood there and watched like good, curious, Chinese children.  One of the more observant fellows mentioned to the others, “Foreigners pee too!”  To which his friend replied, “Did you know Teacher could squat?” Thankfully none of the other teachers came in to witness the grand event of foreign teacher squatting.

Just a day in the life of an art teacher at an orphanage.  The children learned how to paint leaves on fall trees, and they learned that even their foreign teacher squats.

The end.

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Saying Goodbye

IMG_6016There was a well worn path in the dirt road from our house to my grandmother’s two bedroom home.  I could make it there on my purple bike with the plastic streamers coming out of the handle bars in five minutes flat if the red-winged black birds in the oak tree at the corner didn’t take me out.  Grandma knew I was scared of those birds.  I told her everything.

 

On one of my visits, she proudly pulled out a large pinwheel.  I was confused when I first saw it. Then she told me I should hold it over my head as I rode to her house.  The pinwheel whistled as I rode my bike and scared those stupid birds.  Nothing would keep us from our afternoon visits.

I’m not really sure how we filled all of the hours we spent together.

She helped me with my homework.  I always was up for a ride to “the city” to help her buy groceries.  We ate red licorice together and painted our nails….always with clear polish.  I watched hours of Gospel Sing TV with her, and she attended every band concert, play, and art show.  She taught me to drive and took me on my first airplane ride to visit the cousins in Florida.  When I was all grown up and traveling on my own, she wrote to me weekly on her old typewriter and mailed me phone cards.

When I was a self-conscious middle schooler, she taught me to sew.  She had this way of making me feel like the most talented kid while at the same time telling me truth without sugar coating.  Her words still ring in my ears: “You don’t have to be perfect.  It will all iron out.”  What seemed like a lesson in stitching a seam on my latest 4-H project, really was so much more.  She knew me and my struggles.

This week, I lost part of my heart.  Alzheimers (what I now call the cruelest of all diseases) has slowly been stealing her from me.  Robbing us of any new memories.  But, I guess I am still the little girl on that purple bike….hoping to race faster than the black birds.  Every time I was able to sit next to her on the couch in her nursing home, I was hoping for one more moment.   We had always been good at sitting together and not doing to much.  I could take in her smell, feel her presence, and pretend we were just watching the Gaithers together.

Even that is now gone.

I have gone back and forth about writing this blog post.  I usually save this space for stories about living and teaching cross-culturally and how that affects raising my family.  I wasn’t sure if writing about the death of my grandmother fit that.

This week, as I have cried over her death, the miles between my childhood home and Asia have felt even longer. I wanted to stand at her graveside.  I wanted to cry with my family, who would understand why I am 40 but a weeping mess over losing my grandmother friend.

 

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But, it is even more than that.

Some of my tears this week are over my mother and my own children.  I am crying because my kids can’t ride their bikes down the road and eat licorice with a grandparent who loves them with extravagance.  In my grief, I question the stolen moments that might shape my own children.

Living cross-culturally, it is what we are called to, but man, sometimes the cost is high.  I want to write and say it is all worth it.  But, honestly, I am not sure if I will ever know if it is or not.

What is worth something…following Jesus and trusting him with my heart.  I guess that means I should trust him with the heart of my kiddos and be thankful for video chats.  So much easier to write that then to truly live it out.

Years ago, Dr. Kinlaw gave a sermon at a summer camp that included a story of a young single woman who was living cross-culturally.  She was asked if she was scared of living so far from home in a strange land by herself.  Her response.  “I am more scared of NOT living where God wants me to be.”  I can’t remember the rest of that sermon. Actually, I am pretty proud of myself for remembering anything from 20 years ago!  Funny, the things that come to mind as you are grieving.  The simple answer that young woman gave….I want it to be my answer as well.  With all my heart, I want to be where God calls us.

Lord, help me in my weakness. Help me when the days are hard and my tears fall in abundance.

Often, when I sat next to Grandma at church, tears would gently slip from one eye.  She joked with me that she had a leaky eye and not to worry.  The one time I really remember seeing Grandma cry was when she said good-bye to me as I was leaving for college.  She sobbed – deep heart wrenching cries as we hugged in the driveway.

Now, I am the one sobbing as I have to say good-bye to her.  There are no promises about Christmas and spring breaks….but I am thankful to know there is the promise of eternity.

 

And then he did a face plant…

My first mistake was telling Little Man he could ride his tricycle to the market.  An unseasonably warm day made me unusually optimistic on how much I could carry with a kindergartener and a tricycle in tow.  Lesson learned.

A box in one arm, several days’ veggies and fruit in a bag on the other with the tricycle slung over my shoulder, Little Man and I started crossing the road to start the trek home.  He was holding the hem of my jacket as we stepped off the curb.  I am not really sure what happened next.  It all went so fast and slow at the same time.  We had plenty of time to cross the road in front of the white car that suddenly seemed to be barreling down on us when Little Man’s leg came off.  Velocity taking over, his body kept going and he landed hard on the pavement near the other side of the road.

 

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You know those moments?  The moments when you are standing in the road deciding if you should let the car run over your son’s leg or scoop him up and comfort him — all the while trying to untangle yourself from a bag of broccoli, apples and tomatoes.  AND while doing all this, you are thinking in the back of your mind….”Wow, I guess his leg really isn’t fitting that great these days!”  See what I mean?  Never in my life did I think there would be such a moment.  I chose wiping tears and checking for broken bones and blood.  Little Man was not happy with that choice, and he began screaming even louder that his leg was about to be road kill.

In enters a stranger.

Just a little cultural context.  It is not common to help strangers.  Friends and family, absolutely. Strangers, no. It is culturally common to stop and watch, but not to help.  Let’s just say, in all of my years living in Asia I have been stared at A LOT more than I have been helped.

Wednesday was different.

A man stepped out into the road, rescued Little Man’s leg, retrieved the roll away tricycle and was at my side helping me steady a weeping boy.  He held a little hand while I checked for wounds (there were none) and slid an intact prosthetic leg back in place. When I finally had enough wits to look up at the man, I said.  “You are a very nice man.”  His reply was with typical Asian modesty, “No, not at all.”

And he walked away.

We made it back home with a story to tell over dinner.  All of the kids marveled at the nice man who stopped to help.  “I want to be a nice Chinese man like that.” Little Man exclaimed.  It truly is amazing how a few moments of help can make a deep impression on those around us.  It reminds me of a statement our pastor in Michigan used to say often, “Small things done with great love make a big difference.”  Okay, rescuing a prosthetic leg from being run over by a car actually was kinda a big thing.  But, the few minutes he took to help us…well that was a small moment from his life and I am very thankful.  It made a big difference to us.

I want to be that type of person…willing to stop for a moment and help.  We can make grand plans on how to live out our faith and how to love those around us, but if we aren’t able to slow down and embrace the unexpected moments – well, it is worthless.  I am striving to live a life of service that will encourage those around me and I am so thankful when the blessing is turned my way.