Looking Another Direction

It's no secret that our family loves the beach, and specifically the beaches along 30A. Every year, we make it a priority to spend a week together at one of the most beautiful stretches of sand in the world (no, really, I think it's in Fodor's or something, even though we still might be a little biased). Of course, the beach town vibes, the food, the shops, the lack of commercialization, the Southern charm, the white sand and warm Gulf coast waters all play major factors in why we choose this location to stop and reset as a family, year after year.

But my favorite part of the each day? My favorite part of each vacation?

Sunset.

Any and each and every sunset, both the time leading up to it and the time just after it goes beyond the horizon. I've never not seen a gorgeous sunset there; and if you're a Pirates of the Caribbean fan, you'll understand the reference when I say we've even witnessed (and recorded) the "green flash". And when the sun finally sets, the bell rings; signalling that the day is done and time to get ready for the next. Clouds or no clouds, the sky is a painting no one could ever replicate, no two the same, and even a photo never compare to seeing God's paintbrush in person.

This year though, when we were watching the sunset in Seaside on our what we anticipated being our last night there as a family of four, I happened to look the other way, and saw something just as beautiful: the reflection of the sunset in the eastern sky. I never considered to look the other way; I was always so focused on the obvious beauty in front of me that I didn't consider the beauty around me.

Adoption can be a lot like that.

At the beginning of this week, we received the shocking news that we could be facing a three year wait time until referral, and three years is what they were hoping for; the possibility that it could be even longer exists. We were also encouraged to look into adoption programs with other countries. I have to admit, I spent a good part of the week angry, confused, and questioning God, His timing, His plan. The added bonus of watching constant content streaming in every feed reminding me that it's National Adoption Month didn't help my state of mind either.

Because obviously, since we're following God's leading, everything should go our way, right?

In the space of 24 hours, we went from having a plan to having no plan. We planned to adopt internationally from the same country again, the same country of our boys' birth, knowing the wait might be a smidge longer but ultimately going the way of our previous two adoption with being matched fairly quickly. Suddenly, a possible three year wait is looming ahead of us, along with the unknowns of could we/should we pursue a different country--a country with a whole new set of rules, a whole new set of documents, a whole new process...a whole new everything.

The only way to describe how we were feeling is that we were standing in front of two doors...but were the doors half-open or half-shut? Which door was half-open? Were they both half-shut? Do we push or pull? Did we, after everything so far, do the wrong thing? Should we change our plans completely? Agencies? Countries? Ages? Throw in the towel altogether? Everything we were assuming we knew was suddenly not true, and we felt sucker punched.

And then we remembered, just like a light bulb went off. The country we were encouraged to pursue is the same country we originally planned to adopt from, before switching to the one we actually adopted from--twice. Talk about a full circle moment.

And look. Just look at how that turned out, even though it wasn't our original plan.

We've been so focused on what was in front of us, the beauty of adoption from where we've been twice before, that we failed to consider beauty anywhere else. Because of these changes, we can open our home to a child from yet a different country, a different culture, a different ethnicity. Our focus wasn't on the end game, providing a child with a home and family. Instead, our focus was on ourselves, and how this affected our own plans for our home and family--while not even being thankful for the family we've been given thus far.

So here we are. It may have taken us a week to process and understand and change our mindset--and yes, mourn a little bit--but we don't have two doors half-closed or closing. We've had lots of questions and answers and Facebook messages and phone calls...and still have some questions that are unanswered. When we're ready or able to, we will answer them. But, we have found out that we can and will apply to two programs simultaneously. Yes, we might be waiting a little longer...or we might not. Yes, we might not know what we're doing...but really, does anyone? Yes, we might have to pay more, or we might not...but what's the balance in our checking account compared to the actual life of a child?

These are the truths we came back to. Our heart for adoption has not changed. We are not alone in this journey. And we'll we have two doors to leave open, looking for the beauty from ashes waiting for us from whatever direction our son or daughter, our boys' brother or sister, comes from; and we'll be greeting them with open hearts and open arms, whenever that may be.

Home

Where we love is home-

Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts. --Oliver Wendell Holmes

Shortly after welcoming Judah home, we found a house, or shall I say The House, that we knew was what we were looking for in our forever home. We like to say this is the home we will die in, or the home we will live in until our children force us out. It's not huge, it's not updated, and moving certainly wasn't on our summer to-do list, but it's exactly right for us--both now and in the future.

Except we have two 3 year olds, one who doesn't like change and another who faced an incredible amount of change in a very short period of time.

Explaining that we were moving to a new house, driving past the new house, even going on the inspection of the new house still didn't prepare them for what moving from one house to another would be like. Even now, if I'm out with them running errands, one of them will still ask "Are we going to the new house?" as if the old house is still an option.

Then we went on a couple vacations, had a couple hospital stays/trips, and had some family stuff come up, and Derek and I would make the mistake of saying "We're going to head home", meaning "We're going to head back to wherever we're sleeping."

Again, our two 3 year olds don't understand that, and assume we are headed home to the house we live in.

So we did some quick thinking, and now when we are out of town or not sleeping in our house, and say we are headed home, we ask just these three questions if they are confused:

Are you a part of a family?
Are we a family?
Are we your family?

Once their answers are yes, always yes, our next sentence is "Home is wherever our family is."

It's simple, it's basic, it's age appropriate...but it is also true.

Whether we are in our house, on vacation, in a hotel room or in a hospital room, we are a family. We are together, and that means we're home. Family is home, and home is family.

But sometimes, because of circumstances we can't control, families aren't together. Sometimes a family member is sick and in the hospital, whether for a quick or extended stay. Sometimes, a beloved family member, no matter the age, has passed on, going Home to where they are healed and whole. And sometimes, someone's family is working hard, waiting, praying for them to come home and to be a part of a family, to be a part of their family.

I think we can all relate to at least one of those instances. That's what inspired the design of these shirts. For us, a member of our family isn't home yet. For a little person on the other side of the world, he or she is still waiting for a home and a family.

If you would like to purchase a shirt that says Home is where Family is, you can click here, the photo of the t-shirt above, or the t-shirt photo on the blog's homepage. By doing so, you'll help us bring home our newest and youngest--and yet unknown--family member.

We have set a high goal of selling 100 shirts, and we hope and pray we can meet that goal. We have a variety of colors and options available, for children and adults. If you've made a purchase, you should have your new shirts by the middle of November. Thank you, very much, to each of you who has bought a shirt so far, and to those of you who have donated on top of purchasing a shirt. Thanks for being a part of our family.

Wee Tanii Three

This past April, we told ourselves "Let's take some time. Let's have a normal summer, maybe even a normal, no surprises, ordinary year. Let's not do anything rash." I think we even wrote about it, if you go back far enough.

Because, to stay as honest as we've always promised you, that's what we wanted. Normalcy. No penny pinching, no sleepless nights, no doubts. A one way ticket to easy street. We earned it, right?

Yet tonight here we are, one month after our application approval to adopt our third child from China, because, truth be told, deep down that easy street ticket wasn't sitting well. Uncomfortable. A nudge that wouldn't go away. Wrong even.

As soon as we hit submit, we felt the familiar feelings of excitement and anticipation. Planning out bedrooms and sleeping arrangements (bunk beds!), who will travel (can we all???), and even what vacations will look like, ways we can cut costs and budget and look for support for this adoption.

Within a few hours though, a funny thing happened that I can't say I remember feeling before. All of the doubts and fears and selfishness that had made us say "Let's wait awhile" months earlier came rushing back with a vengeance, and so we decided not to say anything to anyone.

Do we still replace the 33 year old HVAC in our new home?
What about the flooring I wanted?
Can we still paint the walls? 
What about our boys and their current medical needs?
What about our previous and various commitments?
How will we pay for this?

What will people say?
What will they think?
Will they even care?

If you're just tuning in, you'll quickly learn this is our third time starting the adoption process in three years. Everything was so new and exciting throughout the entire process of the adoption of our oldest son that it felt surreal, like a real adventure, from the beginning of our home study to landing at the airport.

The process of adopting our younger son was a bit harder. There were many roadblocks, delays, and changes to the program; yet, because of God's timing we ended up being grandfathered in, so that other than waiting for all the  appropriate approvals, we were able to continue on and eight months after receiving our approval we welcomed home our next son.

Over the last two and a half years, because of adoption, because of our boys and their needs, because of our own heart change, we have felt aspects of our lives change and priorities rearrange and friendships evolve. It would be wrong to admit that we don't mourn what used to be, but if we hadn't said yes, if we had missed this, we would have not found a community of adoptive families that can relate, families that have been there, done that, and bought the t-shirt (and I mean that both literally and figuratively). Families that, by the time Judah came home just shy of two years after bringing home Jordan, had become the kind of friends we could text at 2am and they'd be up for a conversation.

Our tribe. Our village. Our people.

And so it was to these friends, both near and far, that we first tentatively spoke to about adopting again, to gauge their reactions, still with the intention of keeping this quiet to our extended friends and family because of our fears.

And it was those beautiful souls who affirmed us with a resounding YES. Who volunteered to be travel companions (we now have a wait list). Who offered encouragement and prayers right then. Who volunteered to help however and whenever they could. Who understood what we meant when we said our family didn't feel complete, that we are missing someone.

Who told us, when we asked what they thought others would think, "If people don't think you're a little crazy, you're probably doing it wrong."

They're so right. All of them.

Priorities: checked and balanced. We don't need new floors; we have a roof over our head and warm beds to sleep in. We don't need new furniture. We have empty spaces, but I'd rather those spaces be filled with little people and their things than with more furniture.

We have two boys with medical special needs, which means there will never be a "right time" to do this again. I'm a full time stay at home mom, and one of my main jobs is to keep our schedules up to date with all of our various appointments, procedures, therapies, and extracurriculars. Since I do plan to keep that position for quite awhile, it's a good thing that over time, I've even grown to love my new career. Although sometimes the everyday can be overwhelming, we take things as they come: day by day...and sometimes hour by hour.

We've learned and grown a lot over the last three years, but our biggest, greatest lesson that we keep being reminded of is that God is faithful. Let me be clear: I am not saying bad things don't happen, that loss and pain and fear are absent, but even then, at the core, we know He is still good. It's just as scary for us now as it was three years ago, to say "Okay Lord, You're in control here" and leave everything to Him: whether it be how we will be able to support the addition of this child financially or trusting Him with his or her medical need, or even knowing that He knows our son or daughter who we don't even know yet.

So we've decided we won't keep this quiet. We can't.

We do not want to lead with fear.

We will trust with hope.

Because even after all of our doubts and fears and anxieties, the God of 100 billion galaxies has walked with us every step of the way thus far.

For every time we said we can't, He said I can.

For every time we've said we don't know, He said I have a plan.

For every time we've said we're terrified, He said I am with you.

Make no mistake, we are not special people. We are quite ordinary, following the leading of our extraordinary God. And so, we will trust with the same hope and faith that's carried us thus far. We face many unknowns and uncertainties. We don't have a timeline. We don't know when we will be matched with our child or when we will see his or her face. We don't know his or her special need. We don't know when we will travel. The program has changed drastically from one adoption to the next, but we still believe a part of our family is still in China.

What we do know is that we have a village, a tribe of people surrounding us. We're asking that you join our tribe. We're launching a shirt fundraiser to help pay for our second agency program fee, with an explanation of how we came to arrive at this design later this week. Derek is hard at work making things in his woodshop to supplement our income, if you feel so inclined to buy. We hope to have a joint garage sale in the spring with two other local adoptive families, because we know we need community.

Most of all, as we have always asked you, please pray for our littlest person on the actual other side of the world and for that invisible red thread to bring us together soon.

Our little #weetaniithree.

These Hands

In less than two weeks, this very special handprint will forever change. These hands that at first had us wondering what help would be needed, what adaptations would need to be made, what limitations would be set, have since proven to be so very capable. You may have heard that ten fingers are overrated, and I have to agree.

A few moms of kids with limb differences have asked me in the past week or so how I'm feeling about this upcoming surgery. And my answer is the same to all of them: I feel weird. 

All of the specialists and therapists and professionals we have seen are so excited about the potential they see. There are growth plates in every bone, so once all surgeries are completed, if all goes well the separated fingers should grow proportionately to the hands. The right hand will have at least three full digits, including the thumb, and the left will have all five, albeit short, fingers. The tips will no longer turn blue because of lack of circulation. The scar tissue that's building up on one hand will be eliminated. When everything's said and done, the end result will give optimum use of each digit and both hands.

That's the clinical version. 

But why do I feel so weird? Maybe it's because I know how capable Judah is already. He requires no assistance with getting dressed, putting on shoes, using the bathroom, eating, holding a pen or crayon, setting or clearing a table, making a bed, or any number of things that those of us with ten fingers also do without thinking. He has never, ever let this stop him or hold him back. If you ask him for a high five, prepare to get knocked back a few steps because of the sheer power he puts into it. 

To hear things like "he shows so much potential" honestly makes me cringe, because to me, it almost sounds like his accomplishments are being downplayed, that his difference is a qualifier. I never want to minimize what he's already capable of. I never want my kids to be defined by their differences. 

This will be Judah's first surgery of an unknown number. His actual diagnosis is bilateral amniotic banding, or amniotic banding of both hands. His right hand will be operated on first, with outpatient occupational therapy for the next few months. His left hand will require multiple reconstructive surgeries, which we will schedule at a later date. Ironically, because when you're a medical mom, you think of strange things like Judah will have more surgeries before the age of five than Jordan will (Lord willing). 

The biggest reason I feel weird is I love his little hands. I love holding them, and how he holds mine back. And it hurts to know that he's going to be in pain, confused, and scared. It's common for kids who have surgeries such as these to be afraid of what their new normal looks like, and I don't want that for him. He's come so far from the boy who had to be carried into the house just six months ago, who wouldn't take off his shoes and stood in the corner, who just stared at me for weeks when we'd have one on one time. I don't want to think of the possibility of even an ounce of that regression. 

Because now? Judah is the heart of our family. He keeps us laughing, because have you ever met a three year old who can moonwalk? Exactly. He knows when to hug (and he gives good ones), he gives huge smacking kisses on your cheek and insists on a return, and smiling is his full time job. 

Yet, when we submitted our paperwork, Judah's Letter of Intent, we signed our names under these special promises: 

[Judah Lev's] medical care will remain our highest priority...in order for [Judah] to reach his highest potential. We, Derek and Mary, will love [Judah] as our own son. We will never mistreat, abuse, or abandon him. We promise to love him, care for him, and always provide for his needs. We are excited and eager to welcome [Judah] into our family and to provide a happy and loving home for him. 

And we will keep that promise. It is our joy and honor to help him reach his highest potential, and that potential is not defined by his physical differences but by how we raise him. Medically, physically, this is something we need to do because yes, it will benefit him in the long run. But emotionally? Spiritually? That's what counts the most. 

So yes, weird is how I'm feeling. Will you pray with us that Judah's surgery will go well, that his recovery will be easy, quick, and smooth, and that he will keep be-bopping his way through life?

Judah's surgery will be at Shriner's Hospitals for Children, St. Louis on October 2. I will be staying home with Jordan, who is starting school next week and for his own reasons needs to maintain a routine, while Derek travels with Judah. If you would like to follow along for Judah's surgery and recovery, you can do so here. As always, thank you for the prayers, love, care, and support you have shown our family in countless ways over the past two years. We appreciate it more than you'll know. 

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. Psalm 139:14-16

The Skin We're In

"Mom! Mom!! I'm in that movie!"

We were watching a short clip about Chinese culture a few weeks ago, and admittedly I was zoned out when suddenly I heard my oldest say he was in that movie. Before anyone jumps to the conclusion of negligent parenting and not screening what they watch, Derek and I had both watched the video previously and thought the boys might like it. They did like it (it was about food, after all)...but I can assure you, they also were not in it.

My son is three and a half, going on fifteen. I know I'm his mom, so there's a little bias, but sometimes he shows a maturity that I don't expect. He wasn't actually saying he was in the movie, but he was noticing that the people in the video looked like him, and that's how his three year old brain expressed that to us. Not having expected that comment, I simply said "No, you aren't in the movie, but the people in the movie are Chinese, just like you." End of story.

Since then, if someone is watching a clip on culture or looking at photos, both of the boys now ask "Is that me? Is that my brother?" and I know they know it's not them. Each time, I say "No, that man/woman/boy/girl is Chinese, just like you." And for a week or two, that was enough.

But like I said, my older son is very observant. He's starting to notice differences more than his brother, and it's just one more thing in a laundry list of items that have recently bothered him.

"Mom, are your eyes blue? What color are my eyes?"
"Mom, do I have a brave scar?"
"Mom, did I live in China?
"Mom, did you come get me?"

Three years ago, to prepare for international adoption, Derek and I took numerous required classes to equip us with answers for when these inevitable questions came. Some of the important takeaways were (1) to always be honest but also (2) to keep our answers age appropriate.

"Yes, my eyes are blue. Daddy's are light brown. Your eyes are dark brown. Judah's are dark brown."
"Yes, you have a brave scar."
"Yes, you were born in China."
"Yes, Mommy and Daddy flew in an airplane to China where you lived to bring you home with us."

The other important takeaway? To read between the lines.

"Mom, why am I different?"
"Mom, what happened to me?"
"Mom, why was I not with you?"
"Mom...you really love me?"

These. These are the real questions he's subconsciously asking and not even realizing it. He's only three and a half, but his brain is in overdrive trying to make sense of things that may never make sense. If you were to read a child psychology book about typical anxieties in children and the ages they start to present, these fears that he's displaying are above and beyond what he is capable of understanding at his age, which makes for even more fear and anxiety. 

And the answers? They change depending on what he needs. Sometimes the answers just mean extra play time or hugs. Sometimes we use simple picture books to help reinforce simple truths, like all the cool things skin can do and all the colors it comes in, or books that remind us that we're a family, and families stick together. And sometimes Derek and I know we are out of our realm of expertise and look to the professionals to help us help them. This has made us once again batten down the hatches a little, so to speak, to give him (and really both of them) time to adjust and find their footing.

Our boys have beautiful brown skin and the darkest, brightest eyes. One has a giant dimple and the other has the most mischievous grin. One has a brave scar with a unique heartbeat and the other has special and oh so very capable hands. Now, just now, they're starting to realize these differences...not in others, but in themselves. One little girl asked one of our boys what that thing was on his chest. A high five for the other turns into a fist bump, because the other has suddenly realized he can't open and close his hand. These were the moments as parents we knew were coming, but it still hurts to hear and see. Yet, when we hear answers simply stated like "my brave scar" and see the flash of a dimple when a fist bump turns into a super cool handshake...those are the moments we pray they remember: the victories in the differences.

Our boys need to be secure in their identity. Part of that is knowing their background, their history, their ethnicity and culture. However, a much bigger part of that is knowing where they fit in. That scary things can or have happened, but we, as their parents, will be there to help them to the best of our ability. That this family loves each other and celebrates all of our differences. That they will always, always be a part of this family.

That they can know that God gave them this skin they're in, that they will know who they are, and who loves them.

Hints of Spring

This really has been the never ending winter, hasn't it? I'm not a winter girl (I ask Derek to look for warmer climate jobs every December); and sorry, I can take or leave a PSL and apple picking in the fall isn't my thing either. I do love a long summer, but by far, spring is my favorite season. Everything is fresh and new and clean and smells pretty and green and alive. I start bugging Derek about seeing buds on trees, "Did you see?? I think the tree across the street has buds on it." And he humors me, because one 40 degree day in February does not a budding tree make, "yeah, I'm sure it won't be long now." I need those hints of spring to remind myself that yes, winter does end.

I noticed yesterday our little flowering bush that we planted seven or eight years ago has leaves and buds on it, even though it's been snowed on more times than we thought it would survive, and for sure I didn't think it would survive this long winter. Our neighbor has the same one, and every year, hers blooms much sooner and longer than ours does. Here it is though, the little shrub that could. It's finally getting ready to show us its pretty purple flowers.

After what seemed like the longest winter possible, both of our boys are home napping and I'm sitting on the couch with the windows open and listening to the birds and enjoying the peace and the quiet and the fresh air before reality sets in again. I'm soaking in the hints of our actual, physical spring to remind myself that our family's spring is coming. 

Because how we're feeling right now? It's like we're in some never ending winter season. 

Hi. It's been awhile. We're still here. We're still in the thick of it.

Sometimes, we feel like we've been in the thick of it for almost two years. After all, it's been almost two years since we brought Jet home, and how quickly we forget how unprepared and inexperienced and scared we were during those first months that seem like just one long blur until his discharge after his heart surgery. It wasn't what we expected, and of course it wasn't what we wanted, but God had other plans.

Feeling pretty confident, we barely waited a day after Jet was cleared after his surgery before we full speed ahead hopped right back into our adoption plan again...expecting a longer wait before being matched again...but God had other plans. 

I know it seems like an exaggeration, and that you've heard it before, but I have paper (or I guess electronic) evidence that one day we were told it would be a 12-24 month wait for the special needs I inquired about and the very next day we got the call that there was a little boy available that fit our profile, with a special need we hadn't even considered because the likelihood of a match seemed low, but God had other plans. 

Judah has been home for almost a month, and for us adults, the adjustment period is a bit easier. Our minds are capable of understanding these changes. Sometimes, we don't like them, or are frustrated with them, but we can understand them. But for our two three year olds? They could use some time yet, both of them. Adoption is not natural, so how can we expect an easy transition for something that comes from brokenness? We can't. 

So when we're low on patience and sleep, when our older son is so overstimulated he's up until midnight or is so frustrated he loses the ability to communicate, when our younger son is refusing a hug or when he stands in the corner because he doesn't understand the meaning of "no" and refuses to join the family, we have to look for our hints of Spring. 

• Two years ago, neither of our boys were home. 
• One year ago, Jordan was still sedated more than a week after his open heart surgery with no immediate plan to extubate. 
• Six months ago, we got to go on a family vacation and received the news we would *not* have to wait to adopt Judah due to policy changes. 
• Six weeks ago, we were still a family of three. 
• Two weeks ago, we were awake at night longer than we were sleeping.
• One week ago we started to actively put a plan in place to help both of them deal with their feelings.
• Three days ago, Judah chose to sit next to me with his books instead of in a chair by himself for over an hour. 
• Yesterday, both boys played basketball and sung along to The Song of the Cebu (it's very catchy; they get their taste from their mom). Athletic and artistic, we keep them well-rounded.  
• This morning, they both ate their breakfast, and second and third breakfasts...Jet didn't choke on a single thing, and Judah was picky--milestones for both of their respective developmental progress. 

And we don't forget the meals, the encouragement, the prayers, and the affirmations of friendship over the past years and months and weeks, especially this past. It would be and sometimes is very easy as adoptive parents to feel misunderstood, isolated, and lonely, but these brief interactions have showed us that we are not any of those things to our friends (and family) who love us. 

Every year my poor little shrub has stubbornly held off, long enough that I start to think that this was the winter that finally ended it,yet it still surprises me every year. Last year, at a brief glance it held not even a hint of flowering the morning Jordan went in for his heart surgery, and yet the day of his discharge was the first day it started to bloom. Even though sometimes we don't feel like we're making progress as a family, we know we just need to look a little harder. We have full confidence that with time, both of our boys will blossom into their full potential as individuals, as sons, and as brothers. 

We have no idea what the future holds for us. Derek and I are looking forward to a our kind of normal year with no expectations except the anticipated (and let's be honest, maybe a few unanticipated) doctor appointments, spring soccer, maybe a baseball game, a family vacation, some yard work, some house work...normal things that we've put off for going on two years. 

But God might have other plans. 

It Goes On

In three words, I can summarize everything I've learned about life: it goes on. --Robert Frost.

There are only a few hours left of 2017, and it's bittersweet to leave it behind us. Between the first day of the year and today, we've had ups, downs, highs, lows, and all of the in betweens. Like many of you, I found our Top Nine on Instagram to be a refreshingly accurate representation of our year. As Mr. Frost so eloquently referenced, life goes on.

But...sometimes life moved slowly. There were days that didn't seem to ever end, like the day of Jordan's heart surgery, and then the day of his second surgery a few days after. Silent cries because he wanted to be held but there were so many tubes and wires and lines attached that it wasn't possible. Helping him out of the car when we got home after being discharged and realizing the boy who ran down the hall toward the operating room couldn't even walk or talk. The days and weeks post discharge when he would cry and and shake because he was weaning off some pretty heavy narcotics, and we were giving our two year old methadone and Ativan just to take the edge off until he could start to feel like himself again. It's old news for many of you, but it was just yesterday for us.

But, then there were the quick, happy flashes, that happened more and more frequently, like holding our son for the first time after two weeks. Seeing him smile and ask for PomPom. Learning to jump, both feet leaving the ground. Taking our first family vacation ever. Building sandcastles and eating shaved ice and fish tacos and experiencing our first hurricane like true Midwesterners. Getting colds and not ending up in the hospital (except for that one time...). Experiencing the holidays the way they're meant to be experienced, with family and friends.

Learning that we would be a family of four, very quickly. Buying new clothes for another little boy, just a couple months younger than Jordan. Counting the days and realizing that in less than two months from now, Derek and his dad will be in China bringing home Judah. Emails and updates about our newest son, stacks of paperwork and red tape completed just to receive and send off a fresh bunch.

So 2017...was bittersweet. It was fast and slow. There were parts we'd prefer not to relive, parts that we wish would stay forever, and parts that point to a future we can't wait for. We don't make New Year's Resolutions, because why decide to make a change later when we can just do it today? I realize that's a rather lofty and somewhat arrogant sounding statement but it works for us.

If we've learned anything this year, it's for these two control freaks to not hold on so tightly. Again. We've made a number of plans this past year...and not a single one has happened the way we anticipated. Not one. It's almost--but not quite--comical. And we're not perfect at letting go, not by a long shot.

Come now, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit"--yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, "If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that." As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin. --James 4:13-17

Does this mean we don't make plans? Absolutely not. We still make plans. We still pray about those plans. We hope those plans will come to fruition. But, we've also learned to be flexible. We listen more to our gut when things don't quite feel right. We aren't in control. We never have been. God is God, and we are not...and when you finally, finally remember that, you can hopefully find comfort in it. So when incidences like unexpected health issues, bills, matches that weren't the right fit, paperwork logjams, or small rodents that tunnel through the backseat of your car happen, we can accept...that was in The Plan. Just not ours.

So there are no New Year's Resolutions here. We have some hopes for what 2018 has in store, but we don't call the shots. We also don't intend to sit idly by and watch life happen. Time doesn't stop for us, life is fleeting, and we intend to be present for every moment, planned or not.

Hey, Jude

Everyone, this is Judah Lev, or Jude if you prefer. Judah means "the praised one" in Hebrew, and Lev means either lion (Russian) or heart (Hebrew). Jude, our little Lion.

As you can see, he's got quite the little strut going on, and much like his brother enjoys noodles and biscuits. According to the ayis, he is never full and always wants more. One and a half bowls of noodles is quite a lot of noodles to still be wanting more. Sounds like we'll be increasing our Ming Shee order on the reg.

He'll be three in May 2018 (which if you're still following along, you'll realize that's about three or so months younger than Jet...so I'm getting the twins I've  always wanted).

According to the information we got, he's fairly extroverted and obstinate at times. He can share with other kids and likes music. Sound like anyone else you know? He's also pretty independent and although a bit younger than Jet, can do things that Jet is yet unable to do (but we're working on--let's go PT!)

When the ayis pass out biscuits, all the other kids take theirs and run off but he points to his mouth instead. The ayis tell him "no, no, hold out your hands" and he'll slowly hold out his hands to take the biscuit before eating it.

There are obviously a lot of medical unknowns. Derek and I for sure assumed we would be waiting a lot longer and that our son would have medical needs similar to Jet (CHD). That's not actually the case so we'll be venturing out once again into a whole new world. I'm fully expecting to be able to add orthopedic knowledge to my resume. And of course, things may not be all that they seem on paper as well so we are prepared for that too.

If the timing of everything works, Derek will be traveling sometime between January and March to bring him home. Chinese New Year is in the middle of February this year, so we'll see how that effects our timeline.

One thing that we're very thankful for that we didn't have the opportunity to do with Jet is that we can sponsor Jude, and by sponsoring him not only will we receive quarterly updates (with pictures) but also ensure that he's receiving adequate food, housing, education, medical needs met, etc. Since travel is a bit farther out than the ten week whirlwind we had with Jet, those updates will be very welcome and of course we will share what we can when we can.

Now, has anyone seen Finding Nemo? I'm assuming sometime in the last fifteen years you have at least once. Remember Nemo's "lucky fin?" Jude has two lucky fins, and he's pretty awesome just the way God made him.
As it turns out, there's a Lucky Fin Project that you can check out for more information.

We'll be keeping his FB Group private a little longer--anyone can join but until we're home, just like with Jet, we prefer to keep things on the private side.

If you'd like to know how you can support us in the coming months, here is a list a things to pray for: 

*For a traveling companion for Derek. If you're interested in an all expenses paid trip to China as a glorified luggage carrier, documenter (that's not a word), and support system, please let us know. 

*For our finances to come together. We are launching the puzzle pieces again this week and hope to continue on with our Etsy shop. Again, traveling much sooner than expected (although still five-ish months out) is a stretch but we know God will provide what we need, when we need it. 

*For Jude and for Jet, as both of their lives are going to be changing pretty drastically in the next six months (and us too, if you think about it). 

*For the process and paperwork to go smoothly. There are a million little things that could pop up that we have no control over. 

Thank you friends. I have a bunch more photos and videos, but here's one last picture (more available on request): 

We think he's pretty perfect. 

I've Been Here Before...

Beginning on Sunday this past week, my nerves were up and my spirits were low. I was starting to get that "we'll never be matched" feeling. I logged onto Rainbow Kids one night and starting emailing every single agency that had a possible match for us; most of them replied that they weren't interested in transferring--and one replied that the file I inquired to see was actually via Taiwan...which since we've already started the China process doesn't help much. Ha!

On Wednesday, I even went so far as to email the assistant manager at our agency's Waiting Child program and asked for a few numbers/wait times. The last time I had done this was May 1st, so I felt I deserved some major kudos for holding off as long as I did. Of course, she was very sweet and said I can ask her any time I wanted but currently for a few of the conditions I inquired after had wait times as long as 24 months--boy or girl--essentially doubling the time that we had been told in May. Other wait times were still the same, but what our hearts were set on made us realize it might actually be a year yet before we were matched. 

A year. 

That night I asked Derek if we should revisit some of the kids' files that we'd reviewed in the past few months but had previously decided that we weren't the right family for them. Derek talked me down off the ledge, as I was pretty close to just saying forget it. Let's change countries, so we can just do something. Let's say yes just so we can get moving. I don't like to sit around and wait; I'd rather be doing. 

So I doubled up on my efforts that night and started emailing and researching more advocacy sites and on Thursday afternoon I even called an agency begging to see a file. Actually begging. I am 99% sure they thought I was a crazy person, and I don't blame them. We all know by now patience is not my strong suit. (I know, a shocking revelation. This blog is full of them.) This kind lady said she would send over the file and explained how transferring worked and I responded (in a very polite way) "I don't care about that; let me see the file so my husband and I can move forward." (I really do promise, I was much more tactful.) 

At that point, for me, seeing the file and getting a doctor's review were technicalities. A necessary evil that we needed to do before we submitted our LOI. I was ready to start typing it up, site unseen. But then fifteen minutes passed. No email. Twenty minutes. No email. Thirty minutes. No email. A good friend I was texting with said she offered up a quick thirty second prayer for the email to be sent and patience for me. Forty minutes. Fifty minutes. 

Friends, let me tell you, when you know a very important email is coming you will refresh every thirty seconds--am I right? 

For a total of fifty nine minutes I sat on the couch and did nothing but hit update and refresh. 

Then, exactly one hour to the hour, our own agency called--not the one I was anticipating. My initial thought and fear was that they found an issue with some of our paperwork or that there were yet more changes to the China program...given our news the day before the last thing I expected was a referral for a child. 

Except that it was. 

And as soon as we read this file, we knew. This was why we were waiting. This was why we didn't get the other email. This was why we weren't matched yet. This was why I couldn't find a brother for Jet. 

What I thought would be a good match for our family--what we thought would happen--as it turns out, wasn't what God had in mind. Not even close. 

And suddenly, I remember being here before. Feeling this exact same way eighteen months ago. How quickly we forget that when we try to take control of a situation, we are saying "no, no, Lord, I've got this, please, you do your thing and I'll do mine." Which is exactly what I did. And where did it get me? Again? Stressed, sick, anxious, sleepless, etc. 

Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in Him. Psalm 62:5

How many times have I looked at that verse in the past two years? How many times have I posted that exact image? I was scrolling through my IG and saw it, and it immediately struck me--right between the eyes. Sometimes, truth creeps up on you and others, well, it gives you a wake up call like this. 

So here we are, once again, with a referral that's exactly what we didn't know we were looking for. All the minutes and hours and doctor reviews and file reviews and emails that I was searching out...weren't in vain, no--many kids find their forever families due to their parents' due diligence and research. But I was looking in the wrong places. I wasn't waiting or asking permission. I was barging ahead, assuming that I knew the plan.

I didn't.

Today, one day after the call, we submitted our LOI to our agency for our precious little boy.

Everyone, please meet Judah Lev. 

Your Yes or No

Your no is someone else's yes. And your yes might have been someone else's no.

"I have it all planned out--plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for." Jeremiah 29:11 (Message)

I still remember the very first child's file we ever inquired about. It was a little boy with an unrepaired cleft palate/repaired cleft lip. We were so entirely excited, because he seemed like he would fit in so well based on what we read about online. Before we could view the file, another family had already stepped forward to be his Forever Family.

The next file we inquired about was a little girl, and we were the ninth family to inquire about her. Again, we were so excited, but based on the sheer number of families in front of us, we realistically knew we would never see her file.

We did this two or three more times before finally deciding we just needed to wait until we were DTC (dossier to China). Getting our hopes up until getting an email saying that another family had stepped forward to view the file before we could was starting to wear on and discourage us.

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'"Jeremiah 29:11 (niv)

Then we were matched, just one day after our dossier was sent over to China in January 2016. To be matched means that a child with a medical condition that we had previously "checked yes" to was now available to us. It was the first file we had ever received and we were, basically, ecstatic. We read his file over and over again, and every time we found something to laugh about or something more to love about him. He loved bread. We love bread! Noodles and dumplings were his favorite. We could easily make noodles and dumplings our favorite! And even though he was young, he had a no-nonsense personality that we loved and felt like he would fit right in.

We were encouraged by friends to get his file reviewed by an international adoption doctor. While waiting for that appointment via phone call, in the days between we also researched his need and realized more and more that we didn't know if we would be able to provide the care he needed. The phone call with the IA doctor confirmed that there might be more going on than what was listed, and even though Derek and I were conferencing in to the call each from our own workplaces, we knew that ultimately, we were not the family for him without even needing to discuss it--all while the doctor was congratulating us on such a cute little boy, such a fun child, what a personality, etc. Even now, over a year and a half later, thinking about writing our agency to say no still makes me tear up a little bit.

We gave ourselves a week or two to recover, but I couldn't help myself and started inquiring over files again. One was a boy with mild cerebral palsy--and no one could find his file anywhere. Another was a boy that was listed CL/CP (cleft lip/palate), but it was obvious after reading through the file that there was more going on than what was listed.

Obviously, you all know where this is going. Only six weeks later from our first match did we get the call about Jet. Obviously, you know how that turned out. But that's not what I'm writing about tonight.

You see, for every single one of those kids, all of those files, you have no choice but to imagine your life with them. Or their life with you. Full of family vacations that you want to take, baseball games or basketball, (just hopefully not cross country) favorite foods, reading books in the car on road trips, kindergarten, eighth grade, etc. It's a future that is almost within reach, until something happens and you realize you are not the family for them, and they are not the child for you. And all of those hopes and dreams go away, and you feel that loss significantly.

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'Plans for peace and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.'"Jeremiah 29:11 (esv)

And now we're starting this process again. We've actively reviewed one file with the intention to submit our yes, only to have it disappear before we could do so. We've received two more files over the past month that we've been "matched" with per our already filled out medical conditions checklist. One who would have been a great big brother for Jet, and another who would have been a fantastic little brother. Both of which were difficult "no's" to give. Both of which we had those dreams and hopes of a future, but neither were in God's plan.

A small comfort that we've clung to is "your no is someone else's yes." Almost all of the children that we've been matched with--and all of the children that we've inquired about--are with or have their forever families. One is already is in her forever home with Jesus. And we know that that's the way it was meant to be.

Because what is the end goal here? What is the purpose for why we are doing this? Sure, we want to grow our family. Jet needs a sibling desperately (desperately!). Derek and I desire a house full of kids and shoes everywhere with a slobbering dog that sheds all over and those family vacations where no one is really speaking by the end of them because we're all sick of each other--those are the things that we want. But the end goal? It's for these kids to have "a future and a hope." To "prosper and not be harmed." To "be taken care of."

"To not be abandoned."

We're so excited to be starting this process over again. We're excited to know a bit more (not much) about what we're doing. We're excited for Jet's new brother or sister. We're excited for "one less". We're excited to see what God's end goal is here. But we're also nervous. Nervous because every picture, every video, every anecdote and description and favorite food and personality that we see and read about for each one of these kids makes us more vulnerable. It's hard to decipher God's will with both our heads and our hearts involved for each of these children. We ask for prayers again, as we move forward. We have no idea when the next phone call will come. Prayers for clarity, wisdom and strength, and ultimately, to realize that we are being entrusted to care for and raise eternal souls by giving a home to these fatherless. Not our will, but His.

Thank you.

Jet Fighter

When we were matched with Jet, we started a Facebook Group call Jet Landing for friends and family to follow along with our road to Jet (I really much prefer the word "road" or "adventure" instead of "process" or "journey", which I'll maybe explain in a later post.) For obvious reasons, and for our little play on words, we changed it to "Jet Landed" once we were home in the States.

Now, for the third time, we're changing it again. 

Our little guy is stubborn...

July 2016

 Our little guy is strong-willed...

August 2016

And our little guy dives straight into the middle of things, whether it's jam on toast or a crowd of people. This is how he approaches life. Center of. 

July 2016

These are all things we've learned about Jet over the course of the past nine months. His near constant motion, his happy demeanor, his curiosity...these are also things we've learned. We read these things about him in his paperwork when we were matched, but we were finally able to experience all of them in person and every day since our Family Day in May. 

But most of all? Our little guy is a fighter. And that's why we're renaming our group to "Jet Fighter." 

We've had so many tests and procedures. He's been a trooper through all of them. Most recently, we changed up some meds at his regular appointment in the middle of January, and got ready to hurry up and wait. Since Christmas, Jordan has been slowly sleeping more...and then finally the past two-three weeks asks to go to bed or nap before noon or before 7:30...and then takes a 2-3 hour nap plus sleeps a solid twelve hours a night without waking. Considering up to his bad respiratory infection in December he wasn't even taking a nap and just having a "rest time" in his bed for 2(ish) hours with toys and books, this was something we've been keeping an eye on.

Due to J's pneumonia from last weekend (that apparently may not have been pneumonia but we're still calling it that because no one really knows what it was), they discovered while comparing his chest X-rays from December to now that his heart was significantly larger, so last Wednesday we added some new meds and doubled the ones we were on, plus take his oxygen levels regularly, with instructions for labs to be drawn in a few weeks while the doctors conferred about possible surgery this year.

The final straw was we've gradually been noticing his lips being that blue shade you never want to see, and a few lower sats recordings this weekend than what he was previously capable of while healthy (now that his cough was gone). We emailed our cardiologist with our list of concerns. Since Jordan basically has been sick since the middle of December with only a couple of healthy weeks between, there was a good chance that we were worrying over nothing (maybe lips were blue because he was cold? and clearly he needed to catch up on sleep from the multiple hospital stays!), but we wanted the doctor to be aware that we were starting to notice these things. 

All of that background to say...our cardiologist called yesterday afternoon, and without much preamble, stated that we would be scheduling Jordan's open heart surgery as soon as possible, most likely toward the beginning of April. Apparently, our email on Sunday confirmed what he's been studying over the past week(s). To say the least, we were shocked. We assumed we'd be bumping up his next appointment, or maybe adding a halter monitor to the labs in a few weeks. We were not expecting him to say let's get things moving for heart surgery. (Which, by the way, is irony for you: here we've been expecting and expecting and expecting surgery, and the doctors always putting it off...and when we least expected it, BOOM, surgery asap.)

Today, 2/28/17

So that brings us back to our Jet Fighter. All of those qualities that I listed earlier? Those are what have gotten him through his surgery in China, his transition from his other family into our own, from one culture to another, and those are what will get him through this surgery and recovery. The surgery is more complicated than originally thought, but the doctors have a positive outlook on the prognosis. It will hopefully alleviate some of the pressure on his lungs from the pulmonary hypertension, as well as close up a significant leak in his mitral valve. It may decrease the severity of all of these colds and respiratory infections too. Previously discussed was a pacemaker placement, and while no mention was made of that yesterday, we assume that is also still on the table. They will also take a look at his mitral valve, and see if they need to or will be able to replace it some day in the future if it comes to that.

We would truly appreciate your prayers for all three of us in the next few weeks. Specifically, Derek will be traveling overseas for a week or so in March so I'll be holding down the fort and again possibly later in April or May. We absolutely need Jordan to stay healthy so the surgery can be performed as planned. And then for me, as the master scheduler, I have a number of odds and ends to tie up between then and now, such as we received a referral to pulmonology that is supposed to take place at the end of March but don't know if it will still be needed, and Jordan also was set to be evaluated for Early Intervention, also in March (due to a gross motor skill delay) that also might not be needed...as what would be the point of starting physical therapy two or three weeks before open heart surgery? Plus the normal pre-op tests, appts., etc. And pray for Jet...that he keeps his fighter stance, and comes out of this with a new brave scar?

And finally...we'd still appreciate prayer and wisdom for when our next match/referral comes. We truly believe he/she is out there waiting for us as we are for him/her...and life goes on outside of our little red brick house and OSF hospital walls. We want to be ready to say yes when that time comes, whatever our circumstances are at the time, but also want to be able to wait patiently. 

So many verses come to mind, so I'll leave you with some passages that have brought comfort to us recently: 1 Samuel 2, Psalm 46, and Hebrews 11. Please pray them with us, and for us: for patience (again), strength, wisdom, and faith. 

#lethopeshine

New Years and Red Threads on Red Threads

Exactly two years ago, we celebrated our New Years with what we still affectionately call our "press release." (You can read that here, if you're feeling nostalgic.) We announced to our friends and family our intentions to adopt our first child from China, and although we had no idea of an exact timeline we had hoped and prayed that we would be home with our son or daughter by the end of 2016. Lo and behold, that proved to be true by more than six months!

This post isn't a recap of our adoption process, or a rehash of our 2016--I think we can all agree there are a lot of those floating around and I have no desire to add to that list. However, one thing that I was remiss in showing in its completion was the puzzle piece fundraiser you all so generously donated to in our effort to bring Jordan home. If you want to see it in person, hanging in Jordan's room--and in color--to see where your name is, come on over! Otherwise, here is a photo I took in black and white before we get it framed. (We're very pleased with how it turned out by the way; I was very concerned that the majority of your names or words would be upside down, but they weren't!) I realize it's a little hard to read in the gray scale, but I've never been one to appreciate having my name splashed all over a donation or the internet without forewarning so we kind of made that the rule here too. Plus, again, this gives you a reason to stop on by the house to find your name(s) (and maybe a reason for me to clean it before you come).

You may be wondering though...this looks like the back of the puzzle? You'd be correct. The front of the puzzle looks like this--originally we had an orange one but due to some (ahem) technical difficulties we had to change to the other one we had--which is gray. All 252 pieces were "sold" and have a name, bible verse, or specific wording on the back. The frame will be double sided, so while we will probably display with all the names for Jordan to read some day, he will also be able to choose to view the true meaning of everyone's contribution. Family.
Jiātíng. You helped us build ours, and we're forever grateful, but you also helped a little boy connect with his forever family, which he will also be able to remember for the rest of his life. 

An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch of tangle, but will never break. --Chinese proverb

So where does that bring us for 2017? Well, we aren't sure. But maybe you noticed the new little Jordan at the top of the blog holding up a red heart balloon. He's pretty cute, don't you think? I have an awesome sister who does all sorts of graphic stuff for me...but especially when it comes to her future niece/nephew. We know that this next year will be different and some parts harder than others--but can't you say that about any year? What we do know is this: we have hope. We have hope that we'll have answers to a lot of health questions in the next few months. We have hope that Jordan will continue his good health. And maybe most of all, we are hoping that there is another red thread out there, connecting us with a little sister or brother for Jordan. We've been on the waiting child list since about a month or so after we got home (so almost seven months now), and specifically for another heart baby. We are hoping for a match yet within 2017, with possible travel in 2018. That may sound incredibly far away, but remember, it was only two years ago that we announced our intentions for adopting a child who was not yet even born. 

So right now, please join us in our hope for 2017. And pray with us that God will provide as he sees fit. Health, timing, and finances--and especially financially since we will be starting at basically ground zero. As we've been reminded though, throughout the past two years, God's providence is unwavering. He has provided and will provide, as He sees fit for our needs. And join us in praying for our future daughter or son--Jordan's sister or brother (and let's be honest, this kid NEEDS a sibling), who may already be born yet and facing medical needs we have no way of helping at this time.

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen. Ephesians 3: 20-21

Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men

Merry Christmas from the Tanii! Christmas cards may or may not be coming. It's been a hectic month or three. Can you believe that two years ago we told our families at Christmas that we were beginning the adoption process? Maybe it seemed like it dragged at times, but Jordan is definitely here now, even if sometimes we still can't believe it.

i heard the bells on christmas day 
their old familiar carols play 
and wild and sweet 
the words repeat 
of peace on earth goodwill to men

I've always loved learning the history to some of the more popular hymns. This year especially, I can't help but think of the song I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day. It's a popular story, and so you can tune out the next few sentences if you want. Based on a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, it was written after the death of his wife and a serious injury to his son during the height of the Civil War and later revised and set to music in the 1870s, which was the traditional lyrics and tune that is still sung in most churches today. I personally happen to like both of these versions (below) a tad better, each for a different reason. The melody we are familiar with in our hymnals always seems too bright and cheery, especially considering the words to the second verse.

and in despair I bowed my head 

"there is no peace on earth" I said 

for hate is strong 

and mocks the song 

of peace on earth goodwill to men 

There have been hospital stays, tests, unexpected health issues, job concerns, deaths in the family, etc. But I can't limit it to just our own family of three, or even our extended family. Even this Thanksgiving and Christmas have been different as we have spent the majority of the two holidays with just the three of us home, keeping Jet as healthy as possible. However, it would be unfair to consider that the world revolves around our little family. The world gets smaller every day I've heard--truer words have never been spoken. There's been political divisiveness, racial tension, terrorist attacks. There's the refugee situation in Europe, the ongoing crisis in Aleppo. There's the persecution of Christians by ISIS. I think our friend Henry would probably come up with the same words in 2016 as he did in the 1860s.

When we first brought Jordan home, his pediatrician wanted us to check his hearing because sometimes heart defects and hearing loss go hand-in-hand. Actually, we never followed through with the referral because it soon became clear to us there was absolutely no problem with his ears. We live within walking distance to four different churches, so depending on the distance from our home, we are able to hear them every hour, half hour, or quarter hour every day, and usually Jordan is the one to point them out whether we are inside or out (although you ask him to pick up his toys and he can't hear you at all...). We hear them in the hospital chapel, or from the storefront bell ringers. Jordan has an obsession with them...but nothing was quite as exciting as our first snow this year and hearing the bells. You have to admit there is something magical about snow falling and church bells ringing.

then pealed the bells more loud and deep 

"God is not dead nor does He sleep" 

the wrong shall fail 

the right prevail 

with peace on earth goodwill to men

Like I mentioned in in our last post, it's all about perspective. In the grand scheme of things, we have no reason to complain and every reason to be thankful. And so I'll share some of the things that have brought us peace, joy, and hope this year and Christmas season. Many of Jordan's doctors and nurses have asked to pray for or with us before or after a procedure or test. I don't know about you, but that's not something I expect anymore. Friends and family coming around us during a crisis--hospital visits, meals, etc. Having Jordan open presents and saying "thank you" (or his equivalent of a Chinese/English Xie Xie/Thank You) without being prompted--parenting win although that should really be credited to his Morning Star Family. Having family understand that things are different for us right now, and with no questions asked dropping everything to drive down to help or rearranging their schedules to accommodate us. Knowing that Jordan's a healthy boy who just needs a little "maintenance" (and really, don't we all?) Maybe most of all--having our son, who has only known us for six months, give big hugs and I love yous when one of us comes home. I'll take that Christmas gift. 

Recently, I purchased this as a reminder to us. It reads If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.--Mother Theresa. This is not my house by the way--not even close; when I say I recently purchased this I mean two days ago and it just shipped yesterday. You can buy this (along with many other fun items) here. But I think the lyrics "the wrong shall fail, the right prevail" can only start at home. So hopefully, we will pass on goodwill and peace toward men as we go along at this crazy thing called parenting, and maybe you can join us in our endeavors. Looking forward to this New Year coming soon and everything it brings! 

Merry Christmas again from the Tanii. Love to you all! 

-Derek, Mary, and Jet/Jordan/Jo