A New Addition

There are formula containers sitting on my kitchen counter.

Two new car seats are in my laundry room.

I've painted a dresser, painted a room, and bought a crib.

Something new is coming to the Allison house...



I have always, one-hundred percent, totally and completely believed that God wants me to be a big-family mother. In my childhood, I had eight dolls. Yes. Eight. And they had a birth order, back-stories, and personalities. I would care for all eight at the same time. Because I wanted eight children. I went through a phase where I wanted 6 boys and 6 girls. I believe this happened when I still thought there was a Wild West to explore, and I couldn't decide on which children's names to cut, so... they all stayed. If "Oregon Trail" taught me anything, it was that probably 3 of them would die on the way to Oregon, so the more, the better. In high school and college, I lobbied for 8 boys. Just boys. The idea of having girls was completely exhausting (and now, as a mom of a little girl, I believe that this assumption was correct. Not the whole picture, of course, but definitely correct).

I married a man who (after 1 month of dating) talked about family size and planning. Which was a little shocking. But okay, because he also wanted lots of children.

We love kids. We love babies. We love children. Teaching, discipling, growing, playing... Love it.

But then our family got off to a rocky start, and then a pricey (totally worth it!) adoption process, and then a nightmare pregnancy (with an adorable outcome). And our picture of a huge family dwindled. We were reminded that God determines how many children we are blessed with. God determines the shape and size of each family.

But each of these separate circumstances were used to grow in us a very specific love. We saw desperate mothers, hurting families, and broken health. We experienced two fragile infants, a NICU stay, and multiple nutrition/feeding specialists. And our hearts were broken. Again. And Again.

I say this because you need to understand: what I'm about to tell you was not in our five year plan. It was not a dream we woke up with or a passion we were born into. God knew we needed some chipping, chiseling, and softening.

We are becoming foster parents.

And it wasn't our plan.

I had a woman tell me, while we were in the process to adopt Grant, "I'm not really sure why you would sign-up to take on someone else's problems." I almost blew a gasket. The woman was an idiot.

But God knew me.

He knew that I had a category of people that I was guilty of viewing that way... Why would we ever sign up for this? The broken families, the traumatized kids, the drugs, alcohol, horrible atrocities, and almost certain separation from a child that you poured your life blood into. Why would you sign up for this? For the emotional exhaustion, the physical demands, the constant up-and-down, the unknowns...

Because it's my job to "take on someone else's problems."

Two thousand years ago a man came. He entered the brokenness, the trauma, the abuse. He gave his life. After a roller coaster of emotions, constant pressure and physical demands, he gave his actual life blood. For a really big mess. For my problems.

"The one who says he abides in Him ought himself to walk in the same manner as He walked." (I John 2:6)

For that reason (as soon as the FBI says that I'm not an escaped criminal), we will throw open our doors to "other people's messes." If God lets us add more "permanent" children to the Allison clan, hallelujah. But our goal is not 8 places around the table... We want to share Christ. And this is the path God has prepared our hearts for. This is the way we're supposed to go. It's going to be a great ride.

Our Story: Would You Like Some Coffee With Your Crazy?

We're crazy.

Nearly everyone thinks so. Most are too polite to say it, but nearly everyone thinks it. It's really hard to hide shock from your eyes.

Scott and I knew that our plan to adopt any color, any disability, any situation, any age, any sibling collection, while he was in seminary and I was working full-time, was crazy. After all, we had only been married for a year when we began the adoption process. Weren't newlyweds supposed to bond with each other before a third person entered the group? Let alone a third person with the possible significant needs that adoption elicits?

In order to accurately present our thinking and our plan, I think we need to go back to our first several dates. As in counseling, once you see the origin of the crazy, the crazy makes more sense.

Scott asked me out for coffee in November, and a few days later (November 9th, to be precise-- seriously, who remembers these things? Oh, that's right, crazy people), we met at Starbucks. As I pulled into the parking lot, I could see Scott, flannel shirt tucked in, knee bouncing up and down, coffee cup tapping on the table. I forgot all my nerves and grinned.

The poor guy was nervous.

I took a deep breath, and prayed that God would help me to focus on serving Scott. First dates are horribly awkward, so I prayed that I would be able to make him feel more at ease. Then I tacked on one little adendum, "Lord, please help me to be really honest. Please don't let me deceive him, or lie in order  to say what he wants to hear. Help me to communicate clearly and honestly."

Most girls re-apply their lipgloss before a date. I had to re-apply honesty. I'm a classic people pleaser. Don't believe me? Just ask anyone who has ever met me. I like making people happy. My past several relationships (barring the one that ended a year before I met Scott) were not entirely truth-filled. I didn't lie to or deceive the guys, I just tried to hard to like what they liked, while ignoring some of my own preferences. This is not all bad... My husband is very happy that I'm attempting to ignore my tolerance of mess and disorder and am faithfully cleaning our house. But when certain things (i.e. the sufficiency of the scripture, godly passions, utilizing gifts/abilities, etc.) are pushed to the side, then you are not serving God better by being with that person. In fact, you're not even serving that person well.

So, as I walked into that date, I had one goal. Be honest. (And help him relax enough to stop twitching his knees.)

God must have known what we both needed, and it's a good thing I put on my honesty, because Scott fired straight and serious from the get-go. We wandered in and out of serious topics so effortlessly, that I was actually surprised (in hindsight) at what we covered. Of course my very clever date wasn't surprised at all. He had an agenda. It was a very carefully hidden, gently approached agenda, but it was an agenda, nonetheless.

On our first date we covered the following: our families, how our parents communicated, finances, life goals, how clean we were, where we saw ourselves in five years, missions, church ministry and priorities, and where we squeezed the tube of toothpaste.

"How do you squeeze the toothpaste?"
Quizzically, "What do you mean? I just pick it up and squeeze it."
He groaned and then grinned, "Well, You're supposed to work from the bottom of the tube up... I guess we'll just have to get separate tubes of toothpaste."

And he moved on.

I still stuck at the fact that he was already thinking of our toothpaste situation... for when we were married.

This was a first date. Holy cow.

But I liked it. He asked (and answered) all the really important, nitty-gritty questions. You know, those crazy ones which everyone wants to know, but no one is ever gutsy enough to ask, especially on a first date. But he did. I found a gutsy one.

Our second date was in the same location.

Curled up in the big leather chairs, sipping tea (he didn't like coffee!) we talked about what we both wanted our future families to be like. He asked me what my dream job was... and (honesty!) I said,

"I know it's not popular, it may be a little gauche, and most guys would run for the hills, but here it is... I want to be a wife and mom. I want to teach my children, write books, and rescue babies from Africa. I want to adopt, I want to have a lot of kids, and I want to stay home with them. That's my dream job."

He just looked at me. Grinned. And said,

"So, how many kids?"

We both had the same life goals, the same family dreams, when we talked about what a marriage and family should portray to the world, we both landed on the same key factors: hospitality, ministry as a lifestyle, adoption, etc.

Our first few dates were not "romantic" in the practical sense of the word, but I got goosebumps and floated on puffy clouds nonetheless. It was wonderful talking, jumping up on mutual soapboxes, and hashing out thoughts and priorities with a godly man.

I wasn't nervous. I didn't try to impress him. And I was falling, head over heals for the most amazing man I had ever met.

Our Story: Coffee?

Precisely one week after being gifted with the lovely pumpkin, "Bub," I was once again at church. The counseling class I was taking was riveting (and the intern in children's ministry was very attractive). How could I miss?

After soaking up wisdom (which I promptly forgot as soon as I saw Scott), I bumped into this handsome intern in the hallway. We exchanged a few awkward pleasantries. Very awkward. Poor Scott. He was fumbling all over himself, and I hardly perform well under pressure.

"So... another counseling class?"
"Yes... How were the kids?"
"Great. Did you enjoy the class."
"Yes."
"Good."

**awkward pause**

"Okay. Well..."
"Yeah... umm... have a nice night!"
"Will do. You too!"
And we parted in breathless exhaustion at that very strenuous exchange.

A very few minutes later...

Scott, wheeling a cart past me, "Hey! Wanttograbcoffeesometime?" He blurted it out. Fast. And still pushing the cart.

"Yes!"

And that was it.

Apparently we were getting coffee sometime. I had no idea when or where, but I knew with who, and I got a little thrill of excitement at the idea of coffee with Scott.

What we were going to talk about, I had no idea. But coffee (plus a cute intern), definitely sounded like a good idea.

Our Story: Bub, A Toga, and Vomit

We have a love story.

I am right in the middle of my (tumultuous, laughter-filled, crazy, unplanned) "happily ever after." And I'm loving every moment of walking with the wonderful man which God gave me.

I always loved hearing every detail of my parents' story, and God's plan through marriage is one of the most delightful workings of His grace, so, I'm going to use this fall-into-winter, to commemorate our crazy rush down the aisle.

Because we were crazy. Stark-raving mad. And totally, completely meant for each other.

It began as October began to wrap its crisp fingers around the world. I had begun my career in September (finally!) after six long years of school. I was in love with life. And I was blissfully content. Alone. With my wonderful roomie, a fabulous job (money, finally!), and family.

Other people were not quite as content as I was. It does seem like as soon as you become fully content with being alone, everyone else decides it's an absolute necessity to find you someone. I would smile, nod, and ignore all suggestions. God had finally planted me in perfect peace. It was heavenly. I did not want a man.

Which is, of course, when he entered.

Scott Allison. His picture in the church bulletin insert made him look about 32 years old. His educational background (Pensacola Christian College) made me think of ankle-length skirts and panty-hose. I shook his hand in a long line of people welcoming him to the church. It was cold. And he looked like he was trying really hard to be cheerful.

Through the remnants of September, into October, we would bump into each other occasionally. He always looked chronically tired and determinedly happy. And he was busy. All the time. Constantly. He worked like crazy cakes. So, even though he wore old man jeans, too much flannel, and had a hyper-conservative college experience, I started watching Scott Allison.

The vomit sealed the deal.

A very distraught, whining child worked herself up into a frenzy. And then she hurled all over a preschool classroom one Wednesday night. I was picking up my little sis, Julie-Bop, and I saw Scott, down on his hands and knees, cleaning up vomit for the queasy teachers.

That was it. Any guy who would clean up that mess--voluntarily--was worth some attention. Plus, I had a sneaking suspicion that he didn't really need help when he asked me to serve in the Community Center on October 16th. But, since he was willing to clean up vomit, I was willing hand out gym towels and find out more about Scott Allison.

So, I curled my hair, bought a new sweatshirt (so I could look effortlessly pulled-together), and showed up for a four hour shift. It was entertaining. The people I talked to on that day... I went toe-to-toe with a volunteer's adamant stance on questionable movie choices, counseled a crying mother, and cleaned bathrooms, and passed out lots of towels. Scott kept taking me places and "training" me: how to raise and lower basketball hoops, doing laundry, stocking the janitor's closet... And he kept talking. He shared his testimony, family history, upbringing, and how he's not a Bible-thumping-King-James-only preacher.

It was fun. I liked him. He was funny. And quirky.

Which is why, on October 27th, 2012, at the Annual Harvest Party, after my Wednesday night FCI class, I walked up and down the hall, ostensibly to find different people and chit-chat, I actually just wanted to see Scott.

And there he was! Wearing a bed-sheet toga. Because he was Pontius Pilate. Obviously. My mouth wiggled as I controlled my laughter. Our brief conversation was stilted and unsatisfactory. It's very hard to small-chat with a man draped in cream, 300 thread count bedding.

I left. A little bummed. After all, that Saturday may have just been a fluke.

"Courtney!"

I turned. A toga-clad man was jogging towards me.

"Here. There are some extra pumpkins. You want one?"

I grinned. Yes. Of course I wanted a pumpkin. "Sure. What's this one's name?" Everyone knows that each pumpkin has a name.

"Ummm... Bub?"

"Bub. Okay. Thanks."

We exchanged awkward grins... And our love story began.



Happy October 27th!