Stained

We are back.

And there are lots of questions swimming around about our trip.

How was it? When is David coming home? How are you doing?

The short answer is it was amazing.

It was amazingly good and joyous and it was amazingly hard. And amazingly we still have few answers about when David will come home. We are praying by the end of July but that is really more a desire than a time estimate. But feel free to join us in praying for that!

I hate that there isn't a better answer but there simply isn't.

And a part of me hates that I can't just beam with joy and say it was amazing because it was. But, to be truthful it was also hard. As we came face to face with the challenges of adoption in a country with little infrastructure and a unstable government it was a solemn reminder that this is a perilous road we walk. One where heartbreak is a real danger. And as we balance this tight wire I'm simply left to wonder.

David is our son. And we choose to trust God to bring him home. Even when others have faced the heartbreak of a failed adoption. Even when we see the concern in the eyes of those who know the challenges we face. Not because we are brave but because what other option do we really have? When God tells you a child is yours do you really have a choice other than to obey? And pray? And hope?

And I feel like I have even fewer easy answers to the question of how I'm doing.

For now I can blame the jet lag on my solemn demeanor...but its simply an easy scape goat. There is so much to ponder and process. I am full of joy to be with my three children here again. I'm relishing their snuggles and making fun memories as we reunite after being apart. But, my heart has expanded and it no longer is simply at home here.

I've got one foot in the black dirt of the midwest and one foot still covered in the rusty red dirt of West Africa and my heart kind of feels like its splitting down the middle. For some I'm sure they are glad to wash away that infamous African dirt. They are glad to be home. But you'll notice I said we are back. I couldn't say we were home because that term is so confusing to me right now. And it makes me long for Heaven when all the people and places I love won't be so spread out.

You see that red dirt that stains all it comes in contact with has definitely stained my heart. And I feel like I'm looking at my life through the rust colored lenses of West Africa.

As I hug my babies here I long for the child I can no longer hold. And I hurt for the many others who have no mamas to long for their embrace.

As I use my speedy internet to type this blog post or put a piece of cheddar cheese on my sandwich I consider the cost that our missionaries who serve there pay to bring Jesus to those who do not know.

As I pass church after church after church I'm overwhelmed at the presence of the church here and I ponder the pure spiritual poverty I see in West Africa. People without hope, without a Bible in their language, without a Christian in their village, without the presence of Christ in their lives period. And I'm overwhelmed by the huge need not just for food or clothing but for Jesus in a place where Satan has ruled for such a long time.

And in a moment of pure weakness I squeak out a confession to the Lord. I wish he'd called me to fall in love with an easier place. A place where the cultural issues weren't so complex and the spiritual warfare so dark. A place that doesn't chew up and spit out missionaries with the hardness of simply existing. A place with an established adoption program where others have forged the path. A place with less risk. Or at least a place with cool safari animals.

But, what do you when your heart is already stained other than to obey? And pray? And hope.

Full

This morning Titus woke up at a quarter o' early before my alarm. I pulled him into bed with me and we both attempted to go back to sleep. He was successful and I was somewhat successful. But eventually I ended up just laying there snuggled up watching my baby big boy sleep. It was the much needed reflection time I had been looking for this week.

If I had to pick one word to describe how I feel about our life right now it would be FULL.

So Jenn do you mean FULL like you cup is FULL and overflowing with blessings?

Or do you mean FULL like you just ate too much at thanksgiving dinner and are waiting for digestion to kick in and feel some relief.

Umm.....Yes.

Our basement is FULL with items to take to the missionaries and orphanage. The kids love that packages are arriving every day. We don't normally get packages.

My husband's work schedule is FULL. Wait, I mean exploding. (thanksgiving dinner reference anyone?)He has been working 12-15 hour days this week and getting up a time that that begins with a 4. Have mercy I love that man! It doesn't feel like spring temperatures but apparently someone forgot to tell the bugs.

Our suitcases are half FULL of clean clothes. Two kids packed, one to go.

Our washer is FULL constantly and our sink is FULL of dishes as I attempt to get ready to leave.

My head is FULL of the logistics of trying to plan for being gone for 10 days without our biological children. Can you say medical treatment release form ten times fast? Agh!

Our floors are FULL of toys and dirt. The kids have been playing great while I prepare, but with great imagination comes great big messes. And I do mean literal dirt. Our schedule hasn't left much time for cleaning.

My days are FULL of Titus tantrums. Its like he is preemptively going on strike against us leaving. And of course I'm FULL of patience since I'm leaving him. (Okay maybe only sometimes- prayer appreciated!)

And to make this blog an appropriate length our proverbial "plate" has just been overall FULL.

Let me give you the April lineup.
Week 1- HUGE adoption fundraiser, Humiston Family Trivia Night & Silent Auction
Week 2- We coordinate the Watoto Children's Choir visiting our church.
Week 3-Get ready to leave for West Africa....to meet our son!

And I've been trying to process if this is what it means to be poured out, to sacrifice, or if this is another symptom of my classic over commitment. And to be honest I'm just not sure. When I look at that list I see the exhaustion I feel. And yet I see great blessing.

-Friends and family coming together to raise $7,500 to bring David home. Blessing.
-Our church abuzz with all that God is doing through Watoto and wanting to join in. Blessing.
-Getting to meet our son before we bring him home & minister to dear missionary friends. Blessing.

And I'm just not sure if God really calls us to balance as much as we think.

But, I am sure every season can't be exactly like this season either.

More than anything my heart is FULL. And has been longing to spill it all out into words.

My heart is FULL of anticipation. I haven't had to "wait" too much this month as I haven't had a lot of time for waiting. But, as these last few days creep by I am starting to really anticipate all that this trip will hold. I know its beyond what I can ask for or imagine and I feel certain we will look back just like we did last year and see how it changed the course of our lives.

My heart is FULL of excitement. I love to travel. (don't get me wrong this is not a tourist destination). I love Africa. I love time with my husband. I love this team. I love these missionaries. I love my son. Aren't you excited for us? Wow!

My heart is FULL of uncertainty. We have hit the part of the story where the "rubber hits the road" so to speak. And I'm a bit uncertain. I've done enough reading around to know that some adoptive parents have their child put in their arms and say they instantly knew they would die to save them. That it felt like when they put their newborn babies on their chest. But, I also know other adoptive parents who have had to "fake it till they feel it." They've had to do love as an action through caring for their child before they felt it as an emotion. And I have no idea what our journey will look like. But, of this I am certain God has called us and he will be faithful even when I am uncertain.

My heart is FULL of fears. I'm afraid to meet my son and then have to leave him. I'm afraid of leaving my children and being an ocean away if they are sick or hurt. I'm afraid of dying and leaving our biological children orphans and our son stuck in an orphanage (I know this isn't rational but we've been talking wills people.) And I'm afraid that God might ask more from me then I want to give. And I know these come not from the Lord but from the enemy. We have felt some real spiritual warfare around here. I thought I lost $3,000 in fundraising checks. We lost our dog. We had a major marriage melt down that resulted in me crying on the bathroom floor. And at this point I told Jeremy I just can't do it. This month is just too much. I am empty. I am done.

But behind all that came something that I still feel. Peace. I am FULL of peace.

And I'm so grateful because I think I'm going to need a FULL tank for this journey.



p.s. A LOT of you have been asking two questions.
1-How close are you financially?
Oh, I'd love to answer. But with all the expenses of this trip and trying to pay pending country fees I just don't know yet. It's killing me....but we are going to have to wait to announce that one.
2-Will you be communicating while in Africa?
Yes, the best we can. We feel like we are taking you with us on this journey. So many of you can't wait to "meet David" with us. And we really want you to join us. But, the internet there is sketchy and we need to be good guests so we will do the best we can.

Give the Gift of Lasting Vision

In some ways this is a hard post for Jeremy and I to write.  Because we feel like we are constantly asking you for something. That is the reality of fundraising in adoption. I'm trying to battle the inner "American" in me that says this journey would be better if we could do it on our own. But, the further we get into this journey God is humbling me to see that in fact it is better because we are allowing you to join in on his plan for the orphan. That being said, this post has nothing to do with our adoption I just wanted you to know where my heart was at...

And so on that note I share with you an opportunity to be a blessing. After reading the book "7" by Jen Hatmaker our family teamed up with another family (The McSmiths) to do some "7" like projects. One of them was to do some family dinners where we ate like the poor and learned about a different country. One of those dinners was Romania and we had the privilege of having missionaries to Romania come and share with our children. Out of that experience this idea was born. 

Can you imagine going through life without adequate sight and no hope of seeing an eye doctor? 

This is the plight of many people in rural Romania. One of the ministries of Cristi and Michelle Harlea when they travel to Romania is to host an eye glass clinic. 

While they are not doctors they are able to offer reading glasses. At their last clinic 250 people showed up in the first 15 minutes! Obviously this is a great need. 

 But, they don't just meet the people's physical need. They also give the people true sight by giving them a Romanian Bible and sharing the gospel. 

 Here in America we can get a pair of reading glasses at the $1 store! 

We are setting a goal to collect 300 eyeglasses for the Harlea's clinic this summer. 

Glasses can be purchased and dropped off in the collection box in the foyer of Calvary Baptist Church or sent to us directly at 515 Euclid Ave. Hannibal, MO 63401. 

Make sure to purchase a variety of strengths.

"Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keeps the law, happy is he." Proverbs 29:18 KJV

Thanks for helping us give the gift of lasting vision!

The Humiston and McSmith Families