And Tell Me HOW This Makes Me Look Good?

In the middle of the night; another feeding. Tears from a dramatic toddler. Peanut butter in curly hair. Spit-up down another shirt. Reflux screams. Selfish whimpers. Repeated instructions. Constant discipline. The kitchen is a mess. Again.

I live with a whirling tornado and a screaming banshee.

I love them. They're adorable. This job of mommyhood is amazing.

And sometimes completely disgusting, exhausting, and wearing.

There needs to be a word for "something I would never trade, that I prize greatly, and that exhausts me mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally."

Oh, wait... that word is "mommyhood."

As I waded into this adjustment period, I knew that fatigue, the possibility of physical illness, and spiritual dryness would attack me at every corner. I filled up my nights with prayer, my note cards with verses, and my Spotify with encouragement. And I got ready for the onslaught.

But a verse that I never planned on is the verse that God brought to mind...

It attacked me. It lodged itself in the crevices of my thinking and it wouldn't go away. We call that the "Holy Spirit."

This verse has become a mainstay. "What benefit" could easily be paraphrased, "So, explain to me how you look good if...?" On a daily basis, I'll ask myself:

"What benefit is it to me, if I'm patient when my child has done nothing wrong?"

"Explain to me how I look good, if I'm joyful after a full night's sleep?"

"What benefit is it to me, if I keep my temper when everything is going my way?"

What benefit is that to you?

The answer? None.

There is no glory gleaned for the Father. No self-discipline gained. No dying to selfishness accomplished.

You are not modeling Christ's love and God's mercy.

You're just acting like a reasonable human being. Congratulations, you're not a sociopath. Yippee.

So, when that peanut butter gets everywhere (seriously, how on earth does it get everywhere?), and the toddler disobeys again, and dinner isn't yummy, and the most you accomplished all day was folding one load of laundry (which said toddler enjoyed flinging around the room after it was folded)... do you smile when your hubby walks through the door? Do you cuddle the toddler and teach him "no" in a loving way? Is your voice sweet and your words sweeter?

Because that's when you make Him look good.

And that's when you're being true mercy in a world that desperately needs His love.

A Parenting Flow-Chart... Wouldn't that be nice?

I've been reading this book lately...

Editorial Note: I am not recommending,
nor condemning this book. I think Mr. Tripp
makes some excellent points. I also think that
he leaves certain aspects of parenting largely
untouched (i.e. grace). However, if you want
a comprehensive book on parenting... read your Bible.
You won't find all the answers in any book written
by man. If you think you have... reread it with more discernment.

Call me crazy, but two babies, ages one and under, make me nervous about my current parenting wisdom. Before Bets came, when it was just Grant, I would frequently cry outside his bedroom, wondering if I had parented well. Wondering if I had invested parenting energies efficiently. Wondering if I was modeling for my baby Christ's love and grace.

Add another child.

And my neuroses increased.

Now I have two little hearts. Two little souls. Two little bodies. To care for. To nurture. To teach. To love.

It's at once a huge blessing and an astronomical assignment.

Right after Bets was born, a friend visited and we were discussing this book. I was excited about the philosophical encouragement it gave to redeem every single moment and the challenge that my life needed to be focused passionately on a Savior before I could expect my children's lives to follow His. I thought it was hugely helpful.

She didn't agree.

With a sigh, she handed the book back to me and said, "It's okay. I guess. I just feel like he wasn't specific enough. I need to know exactly what to say and do in different situations."

I nodded. I knew exactly how she felt. And I agreed.

With a sigh, I put the book down and went on with our conversation.

But something niggled. It didn't sit right. I kept replaying this conversation over and over in my mind. There was something I was supposed to say. There was something that wasn't lining up just right...

And then it clicked.

Of course there's no manual, no flow-chart, no decision-making matrix for parenting! What a ridiculous thing for God to provide. After all, composing such a chart would be an astronomical headache. There's no way you could account for every scenario, every response, every heart motive.

But more than the logistics... if it existed, it would destroy one of the key purposes of parenting.

I'm convinced that God designed parenting not just to raise children, but to "raise parents." Total terror, a complete lack of knowledge, a desperate cry for wisdom... it pushes you to your knees. It drives you into The Word. It makes you depend on the Creator.

True wisdom, the ability to respond with grace, discipline, and forgiveness, the modeling of Christ for your children... that can only come when you immerse yourself in the Word and cry out to the Giver of wisdom.

That's why no parenting book has all the answers. That's why there isn't a flow-chart for you to follow. That's why parenting is hard.

It drives you back to your Savior.

This task is impossible.

Without God.

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.

{James 1:5}

A Family of Four {The First Month}

Well, our house is now "empty."

After five wonderful weeks of Grandma, Grandpa, Oma, Opa, aunties and uncles... we are all alone. Just the four of us.

The past month has been a blur of learning and sleeplessness. It's been much easier than when we did the same thing with the Grantopatomus. I want to believe that the "easiness" has come as a result of increased spiritual maturity on my part. That's what I want to believe. I did walk into this period of sleeplessness better prepared--I had verses to meditate on, a Bible reading plan, and a commitment to mental and spiritual discipline.

But in the end, it was the grace of God, not all my striving... He knew I needed spiritual rest. And He graciously provided it when I sought it.

The Lord is my provider.

That's what I've learned this month.

I can do everything "right." And it doesn't matter. God calls the shots. He provides and withholds as He sees fit.

I learned this in His willingness to provide spiritual rest. And I learned this in His allowing physical difficulties for my little baby girl. Wee Bets is still not at her birth weight. I did everything "right." And God, who is the ultimate provider, decided that my baby would stay small, that breastfeeding would be a massive challenge, and that feedings every hour (even through the night!) wouldn't be enough to boost her weight.

Now, armed with internal peace and a small syringe/medical tubing to feed my baby, I think we're finally on the upward trajectory. We'll find out on Thursday at our doctor's appointment!

(One of these days, I will have a fat infant... But so far, my children seem determined to test my sanctification by being incredibly small and difficult to feed.)

Because stringing words together is still a challenge, I've decided to finish off a summary of this past month with pictures. I've countless other thoughts tumbling around in my head, but I'll wait until they can be more coherently produced.

Meeting Oma at the hospital!

Tia Julie and her newest niece... 

"Umm... what is this?" 

Our precious "Bettina"

Helping Daddy with a project. A 124 year-old house means he'll get lots of opportunities to learn!

Playing in the toolbox Daddy made when he was little.

Little "Chicka-Bee" meeting Opa

Of course, a visit from Uncle Teej guaranteed that Grantlet wouldn't be neglected.

This was not staged. They both clearly enjoy napping.

Fighting for his title of "the cool uncle."

Imbibing the Grantopatomus with a love of hats.

Wee Bets and "cool Uncle Teej."

Whirling across the floor in a diaper box... Opa is so COOL!

Like we said... Opa is so cool. Mad grandparenting skills.

Meeting Grandma Marcia! (Baby is our own Little Miss Bug-Eyes!)

Meeting Grandpa Keith!

Exploring the most amazing bubble machine of all time.

Loving our Moby wrap... Baby heaven, Mommy multi-tasking.

Cuddles with Daddy-o.

Milk-drunk baby... Our daughter is quite the ham.

Learning to use a fork! (Although, we prefer to use it as a baton, as opposed to an eating utensil.)

In case anyone was worried... The Grantopatomus didn't suffer from a lack of attention.

Daddy/daughter nap time.

Stay tuned for our next post: Newborn pics of "Bettina," "Wee Bets," "Chicka-Bee," "Betsy-Boo-Boo."

It's a miracle my children ever learn their given names...

FAQ : About the Allison Adoption

Let's just be honest. The way our family is being constructed is... non-traditional.

And the questions we have gotten have ranged from mundane to down-right hilarious. For example, if I was pregnant, no one would ask me, "So, do you care what your baby looks like?" If my little biological squidgee popped out uglier than a box of rocks, no one would say a peep... They would just call him "preciously tiny," and avoid adjectives like "cute" and "adorable."

However, I recognize that adoption is not the norm, and as such, there are a multitude of questions. Since I can't answer questions about how I'm handling morning sickness, or what the pressure on my bladder is like, I'll take a stab at a few of the more common adoption questions...

How does the process work?
Paperwork. Paperwork. Paperwork. And then.... more paperwork. I'm not joking. This process is insane. Then you go through a "psycho-social genogram interview" (no, I'm not making this up), an 8 hour home-study class, and then personal visits (maybe one, maybe two) to complete your homestudy at your own house. There are physicals, background checks, TB tests... It is crazy.

Then, after collecting the mountains of data, the agency (we're using ASC in Indianapolis--more about them later) creates a bio... six pages of your information beautifully laid out with pictures.

Then you wait.

Birth mothers come to the agency and look for specific things couples have. In return, some couples are restricted as to which birth mothers they want to be shown to. All you do is sit there and wait. For someone to pick you...

How long will it take?
We have been told 3-6 months if we're adopting a little black baby, 6-12 for all other races. However, we have been repeatedly warned not to listen to the averages. Sometimes it takes much longer. Other times it takes much less time. We're planning on going active in July (meaning we will be regularly shown to birth mothers). This means we could be parents in... JULY! (or it could be July 2013!)

How much does it cost?
LOTS.

Let me say this again: A WHOLE HONKIN' BIG PILE OF MONEY.

But I can't think of a better thing to do with it! Please pray for us as we manage our financial resources during this time. We do not have this cash stashed in an account somewhere. We are stepping out in faith that now is the time, and God will help us. He has so far!

What are you asking for in your baby? (gender, nationality, etc.)
We want a baby.

That's it.

That's all.

We are willing to take any race, any ethnicity, either gender. We have agreed to the widest parameters established by the agency (disability, maternal drug use, etc). Bring on the adventure!

I would not be able to catalogue order my baby if it were growing inside me. We don't think our adoption should operate any differently. We absolutely love the fact that our family will be composed of multiple different skin colors and DNA--what a picture of the global church!

Can you not have biological children?
(Yes, people ask this.)

We don't know, and right now, that doesn't really matter. Scott and I both decided (separately, and then delighted in this common ground when we fell in love) that adoption was going to be an integral part of our future family (God willing). We know that it is possible that we may have children. But we also know the chances are not amazingly good.

I personally have always wanted my first child to be adopted... I want that child to know that they weren't a second choice, they were my first choice. I want them to know that I dreamed about their unique appearance and personality the same way I dream about what a two-year old "little Scott" would look like. We are not sad or disappointed about our family options. We are delighted with them! I can hardly wait to see what our future little ones are like!

As this process progresses, there will be more humor, more struggles, and more questions (some of them my own!), but my prayer is that through it all, the model of Christ's love will be clearly seen... We want our family to display the gospel.


May God receive all the glory.

Of Heartache and Hope - Psalm 66

Okay.

I’m ready. I have been waiting for that time when the tears come less quickly, waiting for a time when
the pain won’t leap out with startling rapidity. Waiting for healing from grief. But it hasn’t come. Not
now. Not yet. Maybe never.

December 26th.

My life forever changed.

Our baby died.

Scott and I were only a few weeks into being parents. Almost to the end of the first trimester, we were
prepping ways to tell families and friends about the little surprise that we were welcoming into the
world. And then I began to experience excruciating pain.

A series of tests. Two ER visits. I was told that my baby was dead. Then told that my baby was alive.
Finally—that my baby was growing outside of my uterus—and that my baby and I would both die if
the pregnancy continued. There was no question. No possibilities. Only certainty. We would both die,
probably in the second trimester.

Chemo treatments to end my baby’s life. The pain, the shaking, the nausea—knowing that my baby was
dying.

On Christmas day. An ultrasound. My baby’s heartbeat—still. Unspeakable pain. Surgery.

A blur of agony and hard choices. Tears. Lots and lots of tears. Brokenness.

And my Savior. God’s grace.

Bless our God, O peoples; who has kept our soul among the living and has not let our feet slip. For you, O God, have tested us… you laid a crushing burden on our backs… we went through fire and through water; yet you have brought us out to a place of abundance. (Ps. 66)

My sustenance was Psalm 66 and constant thanksgiving. “I’m thankful for nurses who work on
Christmas. I’m thankful for a husband who brings me cold water. I’m thankful for excellent medical care. I’m thankful for Dr. Wickert. I’m thankful for eternity and heaven…Thank you, thank you, thank you…

“Thank you, Lord for letting my baby spend eternity praising you. I asked that they may live for your
glory all their lives. You have granted my prayer in a way I did not expect, but a way which is so loving for my baby.”

Grief doesn’t go away. Instead, it’s like a deep dye, saturating the weave of your life. As time goes, it
lightens, it washes, but it never leaves. Your fabric has been changed. Permanently altered. And by
God’s grace, it becomes beautiful. Beautiful, but different.

By God’s grace, I battled bitterness, discontent, insecurity, worthlessness, depression, fear, and anger.

I have not emerged victorious. I am still battling, but such is life. Fortunately, the intensity of the battle is waning. Rest comes frequently. Tears don’t rain as often. God has led me to a land of sunshine.

Come and see what God has done:
he is awesome in his deeds toward the children of man. (Ps.66)

I do not know why God orchestrated my first venture into motherhood in this way. But I can see the
blessings: I can see increased compassion and sensitivity, a continual focus towards heaven. The blessings which come after the pain are much sweeter.

And a new blessing is coming…

Building a family is not about splitting and combining DNA. It’s not about biology. It’s not about
procreation. It’s about love. God’s family is a beautiful amalgamation of different backgrounds, different skin colors, and different gifts.

But it is a family—knit together by passionate, all-consuming love of our great God and faithful Savior.

We want our family on this earth to model our eternal family.

With that in mind, we are in the process of adoption.

Because we wholeheartedly believe that this is the best way for us to bring God glory and praise… and
because He deserves it all and so much more, we are venturing into another adventure of parenting.
The waters are choppy. The sea not as quickly navigated. Some of the unknowns are terrifying, but
God’s grace continues to amaze.

“Shout for joy to God, all the earth;
sing the glory of his name;
give to him glorious praise!
Say to God, “How awesome are your deeds…
All the earth worships you
and sings praises to you;
they sing praises to your name.”
(Psalm 66)

Now There's A Brother "Over There"

He was so tiny. I don't remember, I just see a picture in my baby book-- my little golden head leaning over a new baby. "Tiny hands! Tiny feet!" Even to a little two year old, he seemed tiny. My own little "Bax" (a two-year old's attempt at saying "Baby Alex").

Then there were the matching shorts and jumpers. My mom seemed to love dressing us in matching patterns. Bax inevitably wore suspenders. And he couldn't figure out how to smile. His eyes would scrunch up, his chin would stick out, and he "ruined" every picture. As a five year old, I tried to teach him. But he wasn't good at listening. We played together for hours. I wanted a sister, so I'd beg him to dress up in my dresses. He would. He would even talk in a high, squeaky "girl voice."

When Trevor came along, I lost my best friend. Alex was so relieved to not have to dress up in ruffles and play princess. He and Trevor built forts, made crazy hats out of buckets, and besieged me as I holed up in my little log cabin. Of course, there were the joint ventures: when I tried to sail down the creek on a raft (Alex told me that it would sink--I just thought he was squelching adventure), or when I convinced them both to donate their Christmas money to buy an American Girl doll (Mom found out about that one).

As we grew older, our lives grew in parallels. We lived together for two years in college--two crazy, full, workaholic years. I watched my brother make bad decisions, and then change. He watched me walk off several cliffs, and the grace which brought me back to solid ground. We know each others' foibles. He knows my quirks, habits, and faults. I know his idiosyncrasies, opinions, and interests.

He watched me marry the man of my dreams.
I watched him marry the princess he wanted to protect.

Alexander Joseph Blake.

2nd Lieutenant in the Army of the United States of America.

Today I hugged my playmate, roommate, brother, friend goodbye.

Afghanistan doesn't know what it's getting. My brother is off on another great adventure. I'm delighted in his bravery, terrified by his lack of fear, and convinced that God's plan for my brother has not changed, regardless of his location. My brother rests safely in Afghanistan, protected by the God of the universe, the same God who protected him in his tree-climbing, rock-jumping, fort-besieging childhood.

Please come home soon.

"So prepare, say a prayer, send the word, send the word to be-ware
We'll be over, we're coming over,
And we won't come back 'til it's over Over There!"*

I love you, Bax.

Alex's commissioning. December 2010.

*"Over There"
by George M. Cohan
Copyright © 1917 by Leo. Feist, Inc., New York