All Because of Christmas

I just love Christmas music- all sorts.  We have a pretty big collection, and it grows yearly.  So many carols have such rich, meaningful texts.  I could listen to the words of "O Holy Night," every day of the year- "A thrill of Hope, the weary world rejoices....'til he appeared and the soul felt its worth..."  Love. It.  Then there's the song I've heard on the radio about a million times this year- the one about "sometimes I cry at Christmas".... UGH.  Christmas music usually falls into one of two categories for me- the sacred, meaningful (or at least fun, i.e., "Rudolph") category, or the ridiculously cheesy, sappy, overly sentimental category- think "Christmas Shoes."  A few weeks ago I heard the song "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" for the first time this season and sat enjoying it, listening only partially to words I've heard so many countless Christmases before.  Nope, it's not too deep, but it's charming and cozy and makes me want to sit by the fire drinking hot cocoa.  Suddenly I almost chuckled at the words, "from now on our troubles will be miles away..." Hmm.  Nice sentiment, but not so true for a whole mess of people out there who hear this song each Christmas.

Christmas is actually, for some, the time of year when troubles are magnified and intensified. For some, it feels as if the whole world is rejoicing while they sit in their pain, just hanging on, to make it through the season.  Christmas evokes vivid memories for folks, and sometimes those memories ignite aches so deep it feels as though the heart might shatter. 

Here's where I am at Christmastime... I love "'Twas the Night Before Christmas."  I love trees, ornaments, bows, candles, wreaths, nativity sets, Santa figurines, and any other decoration for which I can find a spot in my own home or in yours.  I've already stated my deep appreciation for *most* Christmas music.  I love the food.  I love the family being together.  I love the crafts.  I simply adore the movies.  I love shopping for presents and finding the perfect gift for someone I love or even someone I've never met.

Christmas, for me, is also a very intense reminder of what we experienced last year.  On December 21st, 2012, we were supposed to receive word about what the judge had ruled with our precious Addie.  Instead, we were told we would have to wait until the 28th, which actually ended up being the 31st.  On Christmas Day, we were waiting to hear if our child was going to be taken away. 

As much as I love all that surrounds this season, honestly, those things are simply not enough to dim the aches of knowing one of my daughters is not here this Christmas,

nor will she ever be.  My troubles, though they originated across an ocean, are not "miles away," as the song states.  They are, instead, up close and personal. 

Tomorrow morning, amidst all the squeals and glee from two sugared-up little girls, Ellie will open some presents that were actually purchased for Addie last Christmas.  Addie's name is written on an ornament on our tree.   Her smile pierces my memories and her giggle echoes in my heart.  Last Christmas she was not here, but she was ours.  She was coming.  This Christmas we are experiencing what it means to truly have Christmas without her. 

She is not here.  BUT, there is One who is here.  -And no, I'm not speaking of Ellie.  I cannot tell you how thankful we are that she is here, that she is home for Christmas.  She brightens our days, fills our home and family with happiness, and is an absolutely precious, perfect addition to our family.  I enjoy her presence so much I am giddy sometimes.  I cannot imagine life without her.  This time last year, she was in an orphanage in Ethiopia, so to celebrate Christ's birth with her this year, overwhelms my heart with gladness.  However, the ONE who makes this holiday joyful in the midst of crazy painful memories is not Ellie.  It's not my funny, wonderful husband or my full-of-life, beautiful Payton.  It is my Jesus.  My family makes me insanely happy.  They constantly make me laugh and lift my spirits.  But, He is the One who makes my Christmas joyful.  He is the One who makes my heart soar above any trial and burst with gratitude and thankfulness.  My troubles may be up close and personal- but so is HE.  

Recently I looked back at our adventure with Addie and marveled at how we survived it still standing.  With my intense history of depression, our tragic loss was a sure-fire set up for a complete downward spiral in my life.  There is one way, and only one way- or should I say place- we stood-

In Jesus.  

In His grace, he gave us the faith we needed to trust in times when our fleshly hearts would have doubted.  In His grace, the Spirit replaced the lies of the enemy with the truths of His perfect Word. We survived because He was walking each step with us.  He shielded me from the pit where the enemy wanted this all to leave me.  The evidence of his goodness shines as bright as day to me in the peace, hope, and joy we had even in the midst of all our pain. 

When the Christmas season began this year, I was a bit aggravated with the Lord. Why did He allow this to be a time of year when I remember such hard, hurtful experiences? I mean, couldn't He spare Christmas?  One answer has become abundantly clear to me recently.  Because we were so aware of how desperately we needed Him at Christmas last year, we are more aware this Christmas of the amazing blessing that He is readily available to us because of Christmas.  We have an intense realization of the hope, peace, and joy we are celebrating coming to the world in the person of Jesus.  We officially lost our girl on December 31st, which at the time seemed like a sentence to start each year with grief, and yes, we will experience grief that day- BUT we will also start each year with a fresh reminder that HE is the only One who never leaves, never changes, never fails.  We will start each year remembering to cling to the Father.

 

Isaiah 9:2 & 6 say, "The people who walk in darkness have seen a great light... For to us a child is born, to us a son is given."  Jesus is the Light of the World.  When I view my pain in His light, it looks so completely different.  My pain looks like an instrument of grace- a way to bring him glory- a fountain of blessing found in redemption.  It looks like the beginnings of "beauty from ashes."  My pain looks so very temporary.  I am absolutely convinced that there will be a day when the shadows of my heartache will completely disappear because his light will be everywhere.  It will fill every corner and nook and cranny, and there will be no room for the darkness of hurt.  There will be no more night- only the brightness of day and only rejoicing.  No more tears, no more sadness.  All of this, because He came.  In the form of a tiny baby boy, he came.  And in that one instant, all pain became temporary.  Hope arrived- hope that is firm and rooted.  Peace arrived- peace that stands in the midst of turmoil and tragedy.  Joy arrived- joy that just doesn't always make sense.  Love came down.  Love was wrapped in cloths and laid in a smelly manger.  And Love eventually headed to a cross and hung and died.  But, praise the Lord, Love beat death.  Love rose again and is seated at the right hand of the Father. And praise the Lord, HE IS COMING BACK!

 I can sing "Joy to the World," "Hark the Herald Angels," and all those other wonderful carols because of Christmas, not in spite of what we sometimes label as “Christmas.”  I can enjoy all the celebration and "extras" this time of year because this is the season when my hope and my joy and my peace became possible.  My pain is in the background.  His love is in the foreground.  It has to be.  It's too darn good not to be.

I am so thankful for the blessing of Jesus- for his birth.  I am also abundantly thankful that His blessings are frequently tangible.  I see my sweet girls and my godly husband, and I am overwhelmed at His goodness.  He gives good gifts, friends.  I pray that regardless of what this time of year brings you and regardless of that which it reminds you, you will be first reminded of Him.  He is worth celebrating no matter what your temporary situation may be. 

 Jesus is here!!! Glory to God in the highest!!!  And even if it seems the least likely scenario in your current setting- Peace is on earth!!!  He is Emmanuel- Our God is with us!  IS, not just was, with us!!!! Hallelujah!

May you have the Merriest of Christmases and experience a constant awareness of how good our God is in the following year!

Our Life, in Numbers

I am not a numbers person. Math and I are not friends. The Lord, however, likes numbers. Alot. The Bible is full of specific numbers- that upon studying, give us not a vague description, but a clear picture and understanding of something. So, with that in mind, I give to you the numbers illustrating the beginning of our life as a family of four.  Now, these numbers are obviously not exact, but you get the picture...

4 months as a US citizen

127 days home

45 nights of uninterrupted sleep

80 loads of itty-bitty clothes washed

975 diapers changed

33 days home before she sat up on her own for the first time.

8 hair products purchased- for a BABY

2 sleep caps purchased

0 sleep caps worn more than twice

7000 feet, army crawled

75 feet crawled, up on all fours

4 tiny, but thoroughly enjoyed bowls of ice cream

10 boxes of Kleenexes used to wipe her nose

3 boxes of Kleenex, torn up for entertainment

6000 laughs

2567 games of peekaboo

395 renditions of “Jesus Loves Me”

2 days a week -on average - we spent at home before Ellie

5.5 days a week- on average- we spend at home, now that she's here

10 times cleaning up vomit- no, not spit up- vomit.

102 socks taken off

52 socks lost

10 doctor appointments

1 family vacation

2,345,690,175 kisses received by Ellie

578 kisses given by Ellie, 176 of which were received by stuffed animals, and 28 of which were given to herself in the mirror

256 tickle fests

12 outfits ruined by... well... poo. Lots. Of. Poo.

748 times complete strangers have just stared, not saying anything...

379 times complete strangers have stared and said how cute she is, or how they've always wanted to adopt, or how they have been to Kenya, Tanzania, {insert other random African country}, etc. 

1 time someone asked if I got to "pick her out?"

1 time I sat in stunned silence, finally answering, "Ummmm, no.... No."

1 time an unknown woman walked in to a nursery where we were sitting, picked Ellie up, and gave me a startled, "Oh!" 

when I informed her as politely as possible that "Actually, she is mine."

1 time Payton almost clocked a kid who argued that Ellie was not her sister. Big sister claws appeared for the first time.

7456 pictures taken

2 times calling me “Mama”

231 fits thrown when she didn't get her way... Oops, make that 232 now.

127 times I've thought, "I can't do this."

127 times God has reminded me that His power is made perfect 

in my weakness.

127 times He's proven it.

4 times she's emptied the dog bowl.

5 new teeth

987 times we've had to move her away from electrical outlets, cabinets, curtains, and other various household hazards.

1 time her daddy unknowingly put her clothes on backwards, 

and left them that way until I discovered an hour later. 

I guess only one time is pretty good, actually...

26 vials of poo collected. Yes, poo, again.

1 crazy expensive prescription from a compounding pharmacy- 

no worries, we met our deductible months ago :)

68 times she has refused to eat the food offered.

1 first birthday party

683 toys thrown

135 times she's said, “uh-ohhhhhh”

385 times she's squealed and frantically waved her arms in excitement when her big sister has entered a room

85 times she's fallen asleep in my arms

1 Tinkerbell Halloween costume

341 steps she's taken holding our hands

16 seconds- the longest she's stood on her own

30 minutes- the longest she's "sat" for me to fix her hair... Nope, nothing fancy, but I'm new to these curls.

15 times I've had to chase her while fixing her hair

25 times I've had to chase her while getting her dressed

335 times she's stopped crying when I sang

6 happy times in a swing

14 shots (as in immunizations, not tiny glasses of alcohol)

634 bottles taken

15 Costco size cans of formula

10 gallons of milk

3 bitings of my shoulder

16 times she's cried a bone-chilling, heartbreaking, haunting cry- 

that only comes from a child who's experienced 

painful, gut-wrenching tragedy

17 times she's cried to let us know she has awoken from a nap 

or from a night's sleep

157 times she's cried in the middle of the night

31 days she sucked her fingers when she got home

12 days she's sucked her fingers since that first month home

25 times we've had billing issues with insurance,

 because her legal name is Yetnayet, not Ellie

3 gained pounds

2 inches grown

57 times she's laughed at herself.

2047 raspberries blown

10 times I've looked at Ellie, and thought, "Am I really your momma?"

10 times The Lord has answered that question with a resounding "Yes."

36 times I've felt like she will never know me and trust me as momma, 

and yet…

31 times she has cuddled into my chest

75 times she has reached for me

56 times she has cried when I left the room.

62 times she's about jumped out of someone's arms for me

45 times she has gripped my arm firmly when others came near

37 times she's crawled to me when she was hurt or upset

137,004 minutes of pure joy

113 times I’m pretty sure I’ve already failed as her mommy

113 times I KNOW His grace has covered my failures

235 times since she's been home I have mourned for her birth mother- 

each time she misses a new milestone in Ellie's life

3,479,192 times I have been awestruck- with both gladness for me 

and sorrow for a woman in Ethiopia, that the Lord, in his mercy, 

is allowing me to be called "Mama" by this child.

1 child adopted,

4 lives forever changed for the better.

1 huge "Thank you, Jesus."

Life After the Blue Box

This week marks four months of having Ellie home with us.  Four months since we stepped on that plane in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, with a little wide-eyed bundle, who was, I’m sure, wondering what on earth was happening.  I think back to that day, and it’s hard for me to wrap my brain around the fact that I was holding the same child that I rocked to sleep tonight.  I didn’t know her at all, and I don’t think I really even understood that.  This was a child with a personality, with likes and dislikes, with a history.  I knew none of those things.  Now that she’s home and some of the initial emotional adrenaline has worn off, I’ve had some time to think about how much she’s changed since she’s come home.  It was inevitable that she would change, because EVERYTHING in her world changed. 

Before we were reunited with Ellie Claire, and before we loaded her up in the van and took her from the transition home, her world was a blue box.  Yes, her “crib” was a glorified wooden box painted bright blue.  There were no slats to look through, and other than an occasional bath, almost all of her time, every single day was spent in this blue box.  She shared her room with 6-8 other babies and a nanny.  When she was hungry, a bottle was propped on her belly, and she stared at the ceiling.  There was a window on one wall, but the curtains blocked out a good deal of the light.  The light bulb in the ceiling dimly lit the room at night before it was “bedtime.”  But is “bedtime” a fair phrase when you really haven’t left your bed all day? 

I remember the first few times we had Ellie outside she was kind of awestruck, looking around with an expression that said, “Ummmmm, what???”  While we were at the guesthouse, she fussed when we would lay her down in the crib, if even for a moment.  At the time, I enjoyed thinking she really liked us and just wanted our company.  Maybe that was true, but looking back, I can also see that perhaps she was just afraid of her world becoming another box.  She liked what she was seeing and experiencing- and I am so grateful.  I know to some children, their new world is a scary, sensory-overloading place, but it at least seemed, to our Ellie, to be exciting and interesting.  We took her from a blue box to a guesthouse, to an array of stinky airplanes and airports, and then to our home, in a matter of a week.  She adjusted relatively well, but it was not all a bowl of cherries- she still struggles with her share of sensory issues- but she quickly loved toys, her baths, and Mickey Mouse (an important trait for any Baker).

When we took her from the blue box, we didn’t just open her world, we blew it up.  You know that “shh-shh-shh” sound you make to a baby when she cries?- The one that’s supposed to calm her?  Um, yeah, before I held her at nine months old, she had never heard that sound.  “Shh-shh-shh” is not a familiar, comforting sound to a child who’s listened to a “Ts-ts-ts” sound her entire life.  The familiar sounds of children laughing, singing, playing, and shouting in Amharic, the sounds of huge, rickety trucks on a poorly paved highway, the sounds of random donkeys walking down the street- were all replaced with the sounds of our relatively quiet home in rural Kentucky.  One day, I had a really hard time getting her to sleep.  I laid her in the floor of the den with a couple toys and went to the kitchen to clean up lunch and load the dishwasher.  I was clanking away, singing, and busy getting the chore done, when I peeked over the sink into the den, where Ellie lay, fast asleep in the middle of the floor.  The noise I was making had finally lulled her to sleep.

The smells of Ethiopian spices, coffee roasting, air pollution, and a room full of babies (just use your imagination), were replaced with the scents of her daddy’s grill, various cleaning products, and my favorite apple room spray.  The beautiful dark skin that she saw each day was replaced with my own pale, peachy skin.  There was nothing familiar to her.  Even her inner clock was completely flipped, as she figured out the eight hour time difference.  I’ll never forget Billy looking at her on one of her first nights home and saying, “Go. To. Sleep.”  She just grinned and laughed.  Nothing familiar- not even the time of day.  So many people, with kind intentions, told me “Babies adjust so quickly.”  They said, “She’ll do great with you all, after all, she’s so young.”

Let me ask you to consider something for just a moment.  Many of you reading are mothers or grandmothers.  Many of you have your babies and toddlers on pretty rigid routines.  The thought of missing a nap-time makes your head spin.  We did more than miss a nap-time.  We turned her schedule upside down and inside out.  Now, imagine leaving a baby all day in her bed.  Imagine never holding her while you feed her.  Imagine letting her lie in a soiled crib while you tend to six other children who also need you.  Imagine having only a toy or two to pass around to those same kids, and having no time to play with that toy with the kids.  Imagine no heater or air conditioner to keep the temperature the same in a baby’s room.  Imagine a baby goes many, many hours a day with no diaper on for the first nine months of life, only to wake up one day to a world where diapers are always worn, with the exception of bath time.- Bath time- imagine a baby lives in a room where seven babies need to be bathed, so an assembly line of sorts is made to get the job done.  Imagine this baby, after she’s bathed, is put back in to that blue box.  She’s not rocked, she’s not sung to sleep.   She doesn’t lie down and look at pretty painted walls with pictures framed above her crib.  Above her crib is simply a yellow sheet with her height and weight, both of which are way too low for her age, and a big ominous blank by “family name.”  A sheet that just serves as a reminder that before this blue box, there was just horrible, painful tragedy in this sweet baby’s life.

If this description is the day of your sweet baby- asleep in the beautiful nursery in your nice, clean, warm house, the baby whose schedule you kept perfectly today, the baby who received the very best of your time and love- if that baby described above is your baby, are you okay with how her day went?  Are you okay with the blue box? 

Please, don’t tell me, “She’s so young- she’ll do great.”  First of all, to say that, is to (although I’m sure unintentionally) take her history and turn it into just “not that big of a deal.”  Again, I ask, if her history was your child’s history, would it be “not that big of a deal?”  Secondly, let me reiterate, we are talking HUGE changes for her.  HUGE.  Changes to EVERYTHING.  Thirdly, there is a reason you have that routine with your baby.  There is a reason you snuggle her close and rock her.  There is a reason you hold her while you feed her a bottle.  A reason for those rattles you place in her hand.  A reason for the songs you sing to her.  A baby learns healthy attachment and security so very early in life.  A baby’s brain develops so rapidly in the first year, it’s hard to keep up with all the ways she grows.  Children in orphanages miss out on all those things.  My sweet Ellie was loved and cared for by saintly women at her transition house- women to whom I am forever indebted- but they were not her mommy.  No matter how kind they were, they did not love her with the love only a mother, whether biological, foster, or adoptive, can give.  They could not protect her from or prepare her for the changes that were coming her way.  They could not get her ready for the world beyond the blue box. 

Here is the thing though, Ellie was quite content in her blue box.  Compared to where she was prior to the blue box, it was actually pretty cozy and warm.  It was secure.  It was safe and familiar.  She had no desire to leave that blue box- until she experienced the world outside. 

Now that she has seen the great big world our Father created, she is a completely different girl.  It has been absolutely amazing to see her personality blossom.  She is giggly and dramatic.  She has more facial expressions than a cartoon character and is always on the go.  I look back at our first pictures of her at home, and I’m a bit saddened- she is so passive and just there… along for the ride, but not really enjoying any of it.  Now, I see a baby soaking up every bit of every minute she’s awake.   Sometimes that means she is passionately letting me know she is unhappy.  Sometimes that means she is laughing hysterically at her big sister.  She is no longer content with a blue box.  She knows there is more.

When I write “more,” I’m not referring to the new foods she’s trying each week.  I’m not speaking of the cute clothes she’s inherited from her sister and cousin.  I’m not talking about the shelves filled with toys in her room.  Those are good things, but they are not what make her a happy, personality-filled baby girl.  Nope, that’s her family that's changed her.  She has a family.  She has a mommy and a daddy and a sister that all adore her.  We kiss her a thousand times a day.  We tickle her and sing to her.  We- okay, one of us- tries to pick her up and scares the mess out of her.  She belongs, and we are beginning to see that she knows that. 

Her once rigid body in my arms now conforms to my shape as I rock her.  She looks in our eyes.  She “kisses” our faces.  She no longer sucks her middle fingers constantly or shakes her head feverishly in an attempt to comfort herself.  She lets us comfort her- in fact, she seeks us for comfort.  She actually laid her head on my chest three times today.  Ahhh.  That was the best ever.  It was as if she was saying, “Yes, I know.  You’re my mommy.”  She was expressing a kind of contentment- not one that came from ignorance that there was more, but one that came from the express opposite- there was more,  she knew it, and she found it.  

I am not naïve enough to believe that all of the “stuff” that comes along with adoption is over.  I know that there may be days in the future when Ellie subconsciously considers that maybe the blue box wasn’t so bad.  But, there have been huge steps to us molding into what the Baker family should look like.  We are finding our new normal and we’ve actually arrived at a place where it’s hard for me to remember what life was like without her.  The baby I brought home four months ago couldn't even sit up, and she is now walking holding on to my hands.  She is experiencing freedom.  She is experiencing life!  I am so thankful that she never has to go back to that blue box.    

Here’s my question for you.  Are you in a blue box?  If you don’t know Jesus as your personal savior, you are in a figurative blue box.  You may feel like you’re doing pretty darn well, but my Jesus came and died and rose again so that you could have abundant, full life- more than pretty darn well.  You’ve already seen through our story that He doesn’t promise easy or happy.  He promises that when life’s not easy, when it’s everything but happy, it has purpose.  Please, don’t be content in life without Jesus- life in a blue box.  There is a huge plan for your life outside that box!  When you ask Him to forgive you of the sin in your life and choose to live for him, your eyes are opened, and it’s like the walls of that box are blown off-  Blown off to reveal peace, joy, hope,  and never-ending love.  Life with Jesus is about the King of Creation walking through each and every day before you and with you.  Life with Jesus is about realizing that everything you chase in this life fades- everything but Him. 

One year ago today, a baby girl named Mihret was made a Baker, legally by the Ethiopian court.  She was ours.  She was Adelaide “Addie” Mihret Baker, but now, she is no longer legally ours.  That dream was taken away.  There are days, like today, when the questions of “why?’ tempt me to doubt my Jesus, and search for my blue box… But then, that different kind of contentment comes- contentment like Ellie laying her head on my chest… contentment that happens when you know that a sovereign God orders your days and gives reason and purpose to everything in your life- even the big huge question marks.  That is a contentment I would not trade for anything.  That’s not a blue box contentment- that’s a family contentment.  After all, I am His child.  He is my Father- the source of every ounce of peace and contentment possible.  I am content because I know the Source of true contentment.  I hope with all that I am that you know him too.

"...I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of." 

 John 10:10, The Message