My mind naturally wanders to how dramatically these girls’ lives will change when in our home. A friend who’s sister recently adopted from Ethiopia commented on the adult appetites in these children her sister has brought home — they don’t yet know what it means to feel full. (And, let’s be honest, I’m not sure if I do either :)).
Their lives have been dramatically altered. My girls’ lives, too, will be never again the same.
As I sit here, again, listening to the web stream from the International House of Prayer while the singers are lingering on choruses about the love of God for me I realize I do have a context for this life-change these girls will experience in a little less than a year.
With God, everything is accessible to me … at least everything that lasts. With Him I can have a fulfilling life. With Him there is true rest for my anxious soul. With Him my cluttered mind has peace … and my heart has security.
These girls will not have done anything to earn their place in our home as a Hagerty child, just like I have done absolutely nothing to earn the glory and beauty of a God who is making me new everyday. I guess I just simply said “yes” to Him.
It seems like everyday I’m reminded of who I was — or am struggling to not be. I get easily frustrated. I can be really judgemental towards other people and sometimes I feel like my arrogance is like a dark cloud over all my thinking. But it’s in times like this that I see Him covering over all my warts with the beauty of His holiness. It’s a name-sake thing. I didn’t earn this name — He gave it to me. Just like our girls, overnight, will go from being orphans to being our daughters …
… and my heart is on fire! (Click on the link above to read more about it…we recommend you grabbing it!)
It’s a funny thing when these mind-numbing statistics we’ve all read about concerning orphans and the AIDS crisis coalesce into a simple reality of real lives, and the redemption that’s possible.
Today, I’m in St. Louis for a conference for my business, and my cab driver was an Ethiopian man named Solomon. He seemed surprised that I had a (very basic) knowledge about his country and culture. He lives here in St. Louis and travels back to Ethiopia every year to give his family more money than they could ever make back there. But his is an all-too-common story of brokenness. His, the brokenness of having to leave behind his loved ones to come over here and make money.
I obviously don’t know many of his personal details, but I found it all to be so interesting (“God?”) that after spending much of my plane ride tearing up as I read the stories of these beautiful children and people with lives torn apart a world away that I would so happen to have one of the only 100 (according to Solomon) Ethiopians in St. Louis drive my cab.
The story of an adoption is filled with redemption…yet I am preparing myself for the inevitable frustration at not being able to do more, whenever it is that we end up traveling over there to pick up our children.
I guess all we have is to follow the promptings of God.
I feel blessed to have been born into the family I was, and to have the opportunities which God has placed before me. Lord, may I be found faithful!
This is what those in the adoption world call the bureaucratic process of becoming a parent on paper. I saw a cute, plump, rosy-cheeked woman with her belly all but bursting out of her clearly-maternity pea coat while I was walking through Barracks road shopping center today. She was looking wistfully up and away. Preoccupied. As I’m guessing her mind was on her last-minute to dos: finishing up her registry on-line, washing the last of her new baby clothes in Dreft, while catching glimpses at a chapter from a book on breast feeding in between. At that moment I was also going through my own pre-natal checklist:
-Purchase fire extinguisher, one for each floor
-File request for DMV records for the past 10 years (woops! sorry Nate…)
-Map out emergency exit strategy for our home
-Print out family budget and credit report
These are just a few of the tedious things included in my pregnancy. I suppose I could be tempted with jealousy towards that cute mom-to-be who’s mind isn’t full of thoughts about what time is best to get fingerprinted and how many CPR classes she’ll need before the baby comes. I’m just not. I can identify with her anticipation as my mind, too, is pre-occupied; I’m actually bubbling over with excitement for what I get to do.
I used to read the scripture that God will give me the desires of my heart thinking that desire came first and then I needed to request that God fulfill that desire. To the contrary, this desire that’s growing in me is so other. He gave it to me. It’s getting larger every day that I’m closer to having my home filled with the laughter of giggling girls. And, you know what? This desire that came from Him — as I suspected it would — is only making me want to know Him more.
Oh, and a progress update: Just as good as a sonogram was an email from my contact at Carolina Hope today who told me that once they receive all of our paperwork it will be approximately 3 months until we have the children in tow. WHAT?! That means, if we finish our paperwork by the first of the year — we’ll have these girls in time for the first signs of spring. I’m going to bank on summer and be pleasantly surprised if we have a little “delivery” this spring 🙂
Sadly, this blog that I created to be a personal log of our adoption journey — intended for only ourselves and an imaginary audience has been sabotaged by Nate. The argument we’re having is whether or not this will be open for others to read and, as evidenced by his last post, he’s NOT playing to an imaginary audience.
This is typical. What started as classy, sophisticated, very personal and intimate (ME) has now been infiltrated by goofy, awkward and open-for-the world to see (NATE).
After 6 and a half years I shouldn’t be surprised and although I’m acting mad at him now and considering changing our password so he can’t add any new posts … I’m hiding a smile. That’s my “golden retriever” for you.
So .. our discussion will continue and in the meantime, I’ll go back and delete the posts that were more like my middle school journal entries as quick as I can before Nate spills the beans about this thing.
Child raising is going to be very interesting in the Hagerty home.
It still doesn’t quite feel real, that we’re about to do this.
All my life, I’ve longed to be a Daddy, and now … well, I will be within the year (in a fashion).
This evening we’re mailing the paperwork to Carolina Hope Adoption Agency and officially beginning the “paper pregnancy”.
We’re not really pregnant, of course…and nobody is likely to celebrate with us in the same way…but it feels like we are. I can’t even begin to describe how deeply moved I’ve been as I’ve thought and prayed about what it will be to bring two young daughters home. And though Sara’s body won’t be shouting to the world: “BABY ON THE WAY!”, our spirits are bursting.
We’re just so happy.
Undoubtedly, the bumps in the road will come. And let ’em. For now…today, October 21, 2007, we conceived.
I think we’re fairly certain we’re going to move forward with Carolina Hope. I have a good sense about them and after doing more research than I’d like to admit, I think they’re going to suit our needs best.
The next question: do we start our paperwork here in Virginia and, when our house sells, transfer the paperwork or do we start in Missouri and do as much as we can remote so that we can really pull the trigger once we move? Honestly, I start to feel nauseous when I go through all the possible scenarios. It’s like a bad Choose Your Own Adventure (for organized thinkers, those books are no fun anyways).
This is where I can’t imagine making decisions without the guidance of God. I mean, how can I ever anticipate when our move will happen, when we’ll finish the paperwork, how long our approval will take?
Lord, would you give me your wisdom and your revelation? Will you meet us here, now?
I get excited about this being a log that we’ll look back on and see a matrix (or, let’s be honest, a small part of a matrix) for what right now seems so unclear.
I can’t explain this growing desire in me to play some sort of role in helping the lives of these orphans in Africa. It’s rare that I’m awake much beyond when my head hits the pillow, but lately I’ve been late to fall asleep and early to rise rolling over in my mind this AIDS crisis and how it’s affecting so many children. I can’t get them off my mind.
Why this need above any other need? Although hurricane Katrina and the aftermath moved me to pray and even give money, I wasn’t compelled to go and build houses or feed those left without a home. Every night practically in my backyard there are those with barely enough food to get by, sleeping in alcoves and corners of downtown – yet I’m not spending my evenings bringing them food.
I guess it sounds harsh, but come on – the truth is none of us can respond to every need that’s out there; what makes us migrate towards one over the other?
For years I lived under the power of the “should”, doing things primarily because I felt I was supposed to. I claimed and even believed this was driven by God. Caring for the poor was only one of many, many “shoulds” in my life that I carried on my shoulders from the time I woke up until the time I fell asleep. A mental checklist came along with it – my day and even my very existence was defined by how many of the shoulds I followed. Something didn’t feel quite right about this, but I had no reason to stop shoulding on myself and others because it’s the only way I knew motivation. It was the only way I understood God to be.
Then, I buckled. My shoulds came to an end when my bitterness at all the sources of my shoulds (primarily myself) became louder voices than the should. And I just stopped. I couldn’t do it any more. I couldn’t make myself do one more thing I thought I should.
My shoulds left me burnt-out, feeling entitled to what was mine because no more should was going to take that from me, and in many ways faith-less.
This stirring from God, however, is making me want to open my wallet, my home, my time, my energy, my in-the-middle-of-the-night prayers and my heart in response. I can’t shake it and – in all honestly – the thought of playing some sort of miniscule role in the lives of one or two children who might otherwise not have a life of food, shelter, and love brings me deep joy that, to me, is very other. Very not me. Very God.
His voice is louder than the voice of should (which I used to think was His voice, but have so gladly learned it was not) – and, today in my life, much more powerful. And it’s good.
This whole waiting game that seems to be crowding in around us … makes me feel so helpless at times. It’s like there are days where I get compulsive about sweeping the dust from the corners of my kitchen, under the cabinets, and running a wet paper towel in between the grate underneath my refrigerator, as if someone is going to say: “This house is so clean! I mean, honey, look at the grate underneath the fridge – it’s spotless! Honey, we have to have it!” Or, the reverse, “Sweetheart, I love the house! It’s ours! …But wait, there’s dust on the grate underneath the fridge. This makes me nervous. Maybe we shouldn’t make the leap on this one?”
Again, it comes back the seeming sense of control and clinging to whatever I can.
As I sit here and pray and listen the web stream from the International House of Prayer (basically, spontaneous music, song and and prayer that they broadcast live), I’m just feeling so stinkin’ helpless. There is NOTHING in my own power that I can do to make this house sell faster, to speed up this adoption process (that by the way, has not even officially yet started … Nate, you’ve got a long road ahead of you putting up with me), etc.
I wonder if this is just a taste – a .005% of 1% taste – of what those children in Ethiopia face as they fall asleep on their parent who is dying of AIDS, in a temporary shelter or even worse under an overhang covered only by a sheet of plastic without their father or mother who has just died. Sounds dramatic and I’d like to believe it’s just dramatic because my mind can’t really wrap itself around that kind of poverty. But, it’s true.
Oh, God, if you can be a Daddy for these children I know you can be a Father for me. Jesus, I need you now more than ever in my suburban home looking out at the mountains, sitting on my cushioned stool on my hardwood floors typing on my laptop. It takes me getting to this point before I see it, though. And these kids … they have no where else to turn. My helplessness is masked – they put theirs on everyday and live in it.
I think it’s all the same though … monetary needs are good, and essential, but they don’t relieve the helpless state of my heart without You.
The bottom line is that You are enough … for me in my sense of helplessness right now and for those orphans sleeping on the streets in Ethiopia (two of whom might be my children!). Come do what you do best …and meet us in our helplessness.
I love my outlook calendar. I know I’m late to this party, but I’ve only recently discovered how it can manage my daily outside-of-work life. I love it so much so that sometimes I put a task in there that I’ve almost or just completed, simply to click “complete.” When it comes to this adoption process, I’d love to map out exactly when I need to have certain items completed and when I can expect to achieve certain mile-markers along the way (ending in the long-awaited referral – with the names and pictures of the children we’ll bring into our home). I’m quickly learning this is not how it works. As I search websites of other adoptive parents like me, I see that – in lieu of a great tool that calculates their progress (in outlook you can map the percentage completed of a particular task or project) they post things like the number of days they’ve been waiting on a referral and hour-by-hour tracking logs of where their Fed Ex dossier is after it’s been completed.
I have the sinking feeling that my experience thus far in “waiting” has really only just begun.
There is something strangely comforting about having many of the major variables in my life in suspension at once. For someone like me who tends towards high control, you’d think this would be total chaos in my systematic brain. Actually, it’s quite freeing. I mean, no controlling person at their core really wants control. It’s just their safety blanket. A very false safety blanket – as control really only happens in fits and spurts. It’s never something that’s really ever yours.
I know I’ve judged people who have a proclivity to “flightiness” in the past. I’ve watched those who appear to be directionless with disdain. “How can they really NOT have any idea what they want to do next … again? Weren’t they just in the same place last year?” It’s almost as if in my mind I gave an allowance of 1 major period of crisis or uncertainty and still allowed someone to be normal. But if I saw any semblance of a pattern of uncertainty, that person immediately become flighty in my mind.
The Lord is funny that way. Now, here I am with uncertainty creeping into more than one area of my life and, even worse, over a period of time. I think I’ve used up my one allowance. And, you know what? Right now, it’s a pretty darn freeing.
We’ve put our house on the market to move to Kansas City and had a tentative move date of August 19th, and a going away party the night before to boot! We’re still here.
My job is winding down to an end and I can’t really look for a new one knowing that we could move to Kansas City at any moment … or … in a year, if it takes that long to sell.
We’ve begun the adoption process but are likely going to hit a delay when the move happens …if it happens. Our “paper chase”, as those in the adoption-world call it, will probably require several switch-backs given that much of the paperwork is specific to where you live.
And … who knows. We’re continuing to pray that I would be able to have children. So – we could get $10,000 or even $15,000 into this adoption process (because many of the fees are due on the front-end) and I could get pregnant. We could even get so far as to hold in our hands pictures of these Ethiopian children we’re already praying for and have begun hoping and dreaming about, only to find out that the process is abruptly ended due to my own pregnancy.
Praise God I’m not the one orchestrating all of this. Little me who at times would like to control the world … my husband, my friends, my family and even the weather … gets to have a chance at freedom. He knows; I don’t. These details will all come together in the order and timing that only He can orchestrate – that I would likely screw up.
Sure bitterness rears its ugly head into my being as I look at my circumstances. But it would be impossible to ignore all of the deep, soul-cleansing good that is coming out of this. God is changing me. I think I can even go so far as to say He is making me new. He is taking a heart that was so bound by fear and anxiety … and walking me out on the very cliff I was afraid of and spent years judging – uncertainty – and showing me all the beauty there is to see there. I’d miss this if I’d had it all my way to begin with.
A dear friend sent me this verse last week:
Isaiah 51:3 “He will make her wilderness like Eden, And her desert like the garden of the Lord.”
The “her” in this scripture is referring to Israel – Zion – and I believe it’s something God is going to do in that nation that we’ll one day see with our very own eyes. But, could it also be for me … His promise for me? That my wilderness – my current infertility and displaced desire to be a mom, the waiting on our house-sale that never seems to end, etc etc – is a place that he will turn into His garden?
These two children that I continue to picture in my mind and can’t help but pray for … will most certainly be a piece of this barren land restored. But, even more-so, my ever-changing heart, my growing awareness that I am loved by God, very intentionally, very specifically, this stirring inside of me for Him … is the “garden.” He’s taking a very controlling, overly fearful and anxious and often bitter-at-her-circumstances girl who can tend toward wallowing in self-pity and making her new. (At least, I think). It’s like today, as I prayed, I heard Him saying “this is more about Me and you than you think it is.” I think He might be right.
So, I guess I’m o.k. with being flighty … at least today.
Although … it might not be long before I begin posting Fed Ex tracking logs of senseless paperwork, as my last ditch crack at honing in on this process. If I do, I’ll just go back and take out that part about people who do that.
Hey you! So glad you’re here. This is one of my favorite spaces. I’m Sara, a mama to six who is learning to see God’s thread in life’s middle minutes. I’m an adoption lover who is still dating my best friend and I'm writing here in the extra margins of life. I wrote a book — Every Bitter Thing is Sweet -- that was published by Zondervan and they’re publishing my second, Unseen, in August 2017 . I love words and I love Him.
by sarahagertywritesThen one was brought to Him who was demon-possessed, blind and mute; and He healed him, so that the blind and mute man both spoke and saw. And all the multitudes were amazed and said, “Could this be the Son of David?” Matthew 12:22-23 • Art by @christenbyates#januaryadoration
by sarahagertywritesSometimes it's the skinny little fears that, surprisingly, take up the most mental space. • The ones that slink in the background, hiding as if they are just a thin (yet unmoving) part of the landscape. • For me, dread was the lurker. Dread of "what might happen next?" or of when this one beautiful moment might end was the never-moving part of my landscape. It masked itself as “just a part of my personality.” (Is this you, too?) • As I adore Him today from Psalm 34:4 (scroll back to see it), two words are highlighted to me: •