Vitafamiliae

If you would have asked me a week ago, I would have said our trip to Africa was “close.”  And then I would have paused and said, “Well, um, it’s fairly close anyway.  Closer than it was…  We’re hoping soon.”

Today that trip feels eons away from ever happening.  We thought we saw the plans starting to form.  Andrew’s vacation time was accrued.  The road blocks in Uganda were clearing.  The money was beginning to appear.  And we were sure that referral was just one email away from arriving.

And maybe it is.

But the last email I had from the lawyer had words like “patience” and “delays” and “please keep in touch.”

For a few months now, we’ve been hesitant to plan anything.  Any appointment I made it was always with the caveat “unless we’re in Africa.”

But last night, even before we heard from our lawyer, we realized we had to start making some plans.  Any plans.

Andrew and I haven’t had a weekend away together since before I got pregnant with Willa.  (Unless you count those months of me on bed rest where the house was quiet and I was medicated, which I don’t.  A pregnant, medicated wife isn’t a wife, she’s just a gestational vessel.)  We didn’t take the kids on vacation this year because there was no money.  And we couldn’t plan it.

But today, I’m making plans.  There’s a weekend away to plan, there’s Thanksgiving trips with family to dream about, and we may even make those dental appointments this month.

The difference is, I’m making plans with my hands wide open.  Instead of clenching my fists and hoping against hope that my plans will change or my plans will work out, I’ve got my palms turned up.  Those plans, they are just mine.  And in truth, I don’t know The Plan.  I don’t get The Timing.  I don’t understand His Glory like I should.

My calendar is just a piece of paper (or a document on Google).  His Glorious Plan is the one I want.  So I make my plans, because it keeps me sane.  But the real sanity comes when I whisper in my heart, “if He wills it.” I don’t place my faith in the plans.  I place my faith in He who is Absolutely Certain of The Plan.  And that makes all the difference.

Isaiah 25: 1 O Lord, you are my God; I will exalt You, I will give thanks to Your name; For you have worked wonders, Plans formed long ago, with perfect faithfulness.”

I asked for questions last week and since I get this one a lot, I figured this would be a good place to start.  Jennifer wanted to know How you and Andrew decided to adopt from Africa vs the US or another country. And how do you know what child you are getting. Will you get to go to Africa to meet your child before the adoption, etc?

The shortest answer to the first question is simply “We didn’t pick Uganda.  Uganda picked us.”

The decision to adopt didn’t come before we chose our country.  The decision to adopt happened at the same time that we learned about Uganda.  This country was in our faces, all the time.  On the internet, in newsletters, at church, at small group… Uganda was everywhere for us.   And at the same time, we were both being pulled to the idea of adoption and the idea of investing in this country somehow.  When we learned that Uganda was an option for us to adopt from, it all made sense.

It doesn’t always work for people that way.  We had several friends who began with Uganda and then felt pulled to other countries.  Sometimes the country that gets your attention isn’t the one where your baby lives.  Right now, though, for us, we think it is.  There are several things about Uganda’s unique situation that appealed to us in terms of how hard it was to adopt from there, but I’m convinced we would jump through 8 times as many hoops if need be.  And if God slams the door to Uganda tomorrow, there are millions of other orphans, at home and abroad, that need families.  That need far outweighs our plans or desires.

We don’t know yet which child we are getting.  We are waiting on a referral.  And we don’t know exactly yet how this will all play out.  The odds are, we will meet our child at the same time as we go to bring her home.  (We think “it’ is a “her.”  Unless God and the lawyer tell us otherwise.)  But we will have pictures and information before we go.

And right now?  This is all we know.  We’ve watched God provide the means, we’ve watched Him open doors in the process, in the Embassy, in the country.  Now we are waiting for the next step.  We know nothing else.  And I’m trying every day to be okay with that.  Because when a country picks you, you can’t make it do what you want.  You’ve got to learn it, love it, embrace it, and just settle in for the adventure…

Don’t forget to enter the giveaway for 147million earrings and HopeSuds.  Help spread the word for us and do a little something for orphans in the process.  Also, the family I told you about yesterday has a way for you to help in honor of Judah.

All of our celebrating and reminiscing aside, I felt it was really important to share a link with you.  A link to someone else’s blog.  We have friends who waited over a year for their referral for a baby in Ethiopia.  Just two weeks after receiving their first pictures of their tiny little guy, they learned that he had died of pneumonia.  And now I’m going to send you over to Allison’s blog, so she can tell you all about Judah and what you can do to help prevent the loss of more children.

Seriously, guys, this is important.  Go read.  Go help.  Go now.

So.  Five years, huh?

I’ve been saving this giveaway for months.  I did some promoting for 147million at Blissdom in February and I got to keep a few pairs of earrings.  I liked them so much, I wanted to share them with you.

These are cow bone earrings, made by women in Uganda.  The women are paid fairly for their work and it helps them support themselves and their families.  147million sells the earrings to raise money to help hungry and orphaned children.  I love my moo-cow earrings.  But let’s be real here.  These sweet tortoise shell earrings?  They would get lost in my tortoise shell mop hair.  Can you spy the earring in my hair?

I rest my case.  So, it’s bright colors for me.  See how fun they are?

My green earrings are HUGE and funky.

But I must warn you, do not go to the door wearing the big green earrings and a messy pony tail that is sideways from an afternoon nap.  The UPS man doesn’t expect to be greeted by Cyndi Lauper.

Anywho, these earrings are sure to be an “every day” item to add to your wardrobe.  They’d match almost anything.  And if they happen to match your hair, too, there’s always a pony tail…

Because I love you all SOOOOOO much, I’m also going to throw in a free bag of HopeSuds, your choice of scent.

I usually hate giveaways that require you to go out and DO something to win.  So, technically, I won’t.  Just leave a comment here and you’re entered to win.  However, in the interest of promoting good causes, I’m going to offer you some extra-credit options, if you choose.

• If you tweet or facebook about 147million and come back here and tell me in the comments, you can have another entry.
• If you tweet or facebook about HopeSuds and come back here and tell me in the comments, you can have two more entries.  (Shameless, aren’t I?)

Edited to add:  It would help me a lot if you would please leave separate entries for each of these extra-credit thingies.

Giveaway ends Friday night at midnight.  Y’all have fun!

I downloaded the pictures off my phone so I could look at my weekend and remember what happened.  The short version is: with the help of our sweatshop elves, some relatives, and the kindness of strangers, we sold HopeSuds at a local market.  But you know I have never yet let the “short version” suffice in place of a good long story…

First, we should all begin with a deep sigh and a “Poor Aubrey.”

Aubrey is my sales guru.  She always holds my hand at festivals, because she’s got business savvy and she can make her booth look pretty.  These are valuable assets to have in a friend.  This was my first go-round without having her with me in flesh and bone.  Thank goodness for unlimited texting.  I assaulted her eyeballs with numerous photos of our table, asking if I should move something a little to the left or put more product out.

She never got these pictures or texts until much later, because her phone is possessed, but she very sweetly checked on me often and talked me down off of numerous booth decor-related ledges.

For the second day of the market, I brought out the big guns and added a few pics of Ugandan children and then one of my own kids grating soap in our little sweatshop.

This shameless use of my children to sell product did not stop there.  Oh no.  I had my sister haul the kids up to the flea market for some face time with the customers.  The three boys stood in front of our sign with open bags and invited people to smell some HopeSuds.  Sam sold 3 bags and Adam sold 2.  It was all very Oliver Twist.

Before the kids brought the cute and started to move the detergent off the shelves, I had some quality time to sit behind my booth and mentally shop.  Had I visited the flea market as a guest, wandering the booths, I wouldn’t have found half the good deals I found.  But since I was sitting there, staring, my eyes would light upon items which would have otherwise never garnered my attention.  Which explains why there are pictures of such items like this one on my phone.

It was followed by a text to a friend that said, “Get over here and talk me out of buying these peacocks.”

She arrived not thirty minutes later for a peacock intervention.  Only she intervened the “wrong” way (according to Andrew) and I am now the proud owner of peacocks on paper.  You may congratulate me.  (No, seriously, I have a plan for them, do not be afraid.  One day, it will all be clear.)

In the end, we sold some ‘Suds and I bought a dress for fifty cents.  (And some other things.)  But more than that, it was a family affair.  Aunt Katie arranged for us to have the booth.  Uncle Stik helped me out in the booth on Friday.  Aunt Abbi watched the kids.  Andrew did some hauling of goods and he was also a charming salesman.  Our kids got to see the bags of HopeSuds go into a customer’s hand (something they don’t understand when we’re shipping boxes).

And one day, hopefully soon, I will get to tell our new baby about how loved she is.  How wanted she is.  And how many people, family and strangers alike,  who worked to bring her home.

So the crazy around here has reached record highs.  We’re selling HopeSuds at a local flea market this weekend and have a lot to do to get ready.  Yesterday I resembled something akin to a chicken sans head.  Well, until the Caped Realtor swooped in to the rescue.  Remember her?  She saved me from flat tires, early labor, and Chik-fil-A cravings.  I had lunch with her a few days ago and mentioned the crazy that was about to ensue in my kitchen.  She offered her son and husband as slave labor helpers.  (Yes, the same son we had to drop off at football practice before L. would take me to the hospital when I was in labor.  L. says he still thinks I’m liable to keel over and pop out a baby at any moment.  Probably why she sent her husband, too.  Safety in numbers…)

The addition of more “employees” meant we had our own little sweat shop here.  I mean, the kids have always had to help out, but I knew we’d reached a new height when someone cut their finger and I yelled out, “Don’t bleed into the soap!”

Don’t you all want to come and work for me?

Speaking of working for me, in true “Office” management style, I left them alone to do the heavy lifting while I took Sam to the doctor.  He’s finally sporting a naked left leg again!  In between mixing bags of detergent, we took the kids out for dinner and ice cream to celebrate.  I am suspicious that they’re secretly plotting to throw another sibling off the trampoline soon in order to ensure the return of ice cream celebrations.

By the time our minions helpers left, they’d saved Andrew and me 4 hours of work and, consequently, gave us the gift of sleeping before midnight.  After we got the kids in bed, we put in another hour and a half and ended up with this:

127 bags of HopeSuds.  And can I tell you?  My house smells AH-MAZING right now. Which hopefully makes up for everything but my kitchen being totally filthy…

If you’re local and want to come by and say hey, we’d love to see you at the Briarwood Flea Market!!

Our lawyer in Uganda hopes to get us a referral in the next month or so.  That would mean a picture, a name, INFORMATION about our new little one.  But I only half believe him.  This adoption timetable hasn’t gone at all according to schedule.   There has been delay after disappointment after delay.  Eventually my frustration with the delays led to apathy:  I was “better off” not having a referral until I knew I could travel soon, hold her in my arms soon.

But lately, my apathy has faded.  A tiny little glimmer of hope continues to invade my carefully protected heart.  My baby feels closer.  Like she’s coming to us soon.  I may be totally wrong.  But that’s where my head is.  I’m more impatient again, but mostly in a “I just can’t wait to know more about her” sort of way.  It’s like knowing you finally scheduled that all-important ultrasound, the one where you’ll find out more about the baby you carry.

Only I know that, in this scenario, there isn’t really a schedule.

So the other day, with my new-found little glimmer of hope, I wrote a comment on this blog post.  I “met” Lovelyn when I started following her updates while she was in Uganda, meeting her son for the first time.  I emailed her dozens of times when she got back, and she always responded promptly and with much love and information.  She was my biggest encouragement that we could do this crazy thing.  So when her daughters asked for more information about families who were in the process of adopting, I shared.  I shared because our families are similar.  Her girls are the same ages as my boys.  They feel like old friends, even though we’ve never met.

And they picked us.

Today we are one of the families chosen to receive Chloe and Anika’s sweet love offering from their lemonade stand.  Andrew and I stared at the computer screen this morning and we both had ourselves a good cry.  The kindness and compassion of strangers is always humbling.  The giving spirit of children?  That’s simply beautiful.

And so we give glory to God this day, because He sent us a hug via lemonade stand.  He reminded us He cares for orphans.  And He cares for us.  And we are inspired and challenged by these young girls’ parents, who have taught them compassion.  But they’ve also taught them ACTION.

So, thank you, Chloe and Anika for your action and generosity.  Thank you, Lovelyn and Matt, for being the brave parents you are.  And thank you, Heavenly Father, who is sovereign over all, including orphans and lemonade.

So I guess I was taking a tiny, unscheduled bloggy break this week because I never showed up.  But today I was doing some behind the scenes stuff on the blog and I felt a post coming on… in list form.  Because I like to come back with a BANG.

1 - Sam went to the doctor to get his cast off.  His leg isn’t healed yet, so the doctor suggested a brace.  But none of the braces fit my skinny-legged little boy.  So his options were a “boot” that would be removable or another three weeks in a water-proof cast.  Sam chose the boot.  Much to my chagrin.  The boot can’t get wet, it can get lost, torn up, messed with… And, it means we have to go put his boot on him every morning before he can get out of bed.  Despite this inconvenience, I’m glad to see his sweet little bare foot every now and then and I like knowing he doesn’t have to wear it in bed at night.  But, oh this hot weather and a black polyester boot… Ick.

2 - Some sweet reader/ Twitter buddy gave Tapestry my name when she ordered her curriculum and I inadvertently became an affiliate.  It was unintentional, but I thought I’d let you know that I’ve been secretly trying to turn you all to the Dark Side for my own benefit.  On the upside, the tiny little bit of kick-back I get will go toward the adoption, so that’s a happy thought.  And, for future reference, Tapestry links will now also be “affiliate links.”  The internet police may now rest easy.

And that’s all I have to say.  See?  Aren’t you glad I’ve stayed away this week?  Here’s hoping next week has more… substance.

Bed time is always sweet around here.  Sometimes it’s sweet praying with sleepy little heads.  Sometimes the good night kisses are sweet.  Sometimes it’s sweet shutting the door behind me and heading toward my chocolate.  But it’s sweet.  And the singing…  Well, that’s just the sweetest.

I tried to capture Willa singing with me, because she can imitate some songs, both the notes and the syllable sounds, incredibly well for a kid her age.  She can flat out SANG Amazing Grace in a muffled sort of way.  Alas, she wouldn’t cooperate with me because she was tired, so all I caught was her joining me for an AMEN at the end of the doxology.  But Ellen had no problem singing along with me.  And if you listen closely, you’ll hear Willa singing every.single.muffled.note from her bed.  (skip in about twenty seconds to get to the good part, otherwise you’re just listening to me warble.)

Ellen Sings With Mommy

That’s a yummy sweetness I don’t EVER want to forget.  And not a night goes by that I don’t look forward to another sweet little voice joining us in that room.  We pray for our baby in Africa and we picture where her bed will go.  And my heart whispers, Hang on baby, Mama’s coming for you...  We sure can’t wait to take you on tour with us.

Last Thursday, the kids all had super special fun playdates at other people’s houses.  I took advantage of an empty house and had a friend come over to help me give the place a good scrubbing.  (My first inclination was to run screaming around the house and then to eat all the chocolate.  But I pretty much eat all of the chocolate anyway.)

When the kids came home, I had about ten minutes to pull myself together and keep the kids from trashing the place before the doorbell rang.  We had an interview scheduled with a local county paper to talk about adoption and HopeSuds.  The kids were fairly cooperative, even when the photographer wanted posed pictures of everyone grating soap and looking cute.

You can go here to read the article.  And since I had enough sense to pull my hair back, many of you will be seeing my profile for the first time since 2006.

Now here’s the funny part:  The reporter and photographer left and my kitchen was covered in soap particles.  So basically, it was like the whole Cleaning Binge never happened.  I rounded a corner and found Ellen in the kitchen, cheerfully grating soap all by herself.  She told me proudly, “I gway-ding soap so we can bwing home our bay-bee from Oo-gandah!”

And everybody said Awwwwwwww.  Of course, as soon as no one was looking, she turned up the charm to the 4th power.  You can see some video footage on the HopeSuds Facebook fan page.

One more link for those of you who purchased or want to purchase the Sseko sandals I told you about.  My incredibly talented sister Rebekah figured out a new way to tie her Ssekos (no ankle straps!  just slip them on!) and it’s up on the Sseko Designs YouTube page.

I wisely kept my hair out of the footage.

I’m all about public service, people.