"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has imagined what the Lord has prepared for those who love Him." 1 Corinthians 2:9

Last Wednesday I posted a blog that was a letter to our beloved Addie.  It was an emotional day for us, as we watched pictures of our sweet girl flash before our eyes.  As always though, the Lord reminded us of His love and presence in our lives.  I teach the sweet Kindergarteners, first, and second graders at our church on Wednesday nights, and last week the lesson was on the angel Gabriel visiting Zechariah to announce that Elizabeth was with child.  When I first started going through the lesson, I was thinking, “Oops… they missed the timing on this a bit.  Don’t we normally cover this before Christmas?  Oh well…”  So I plugged ahead and began preparing the material.  The main point for the night was “Sometimes God surprises us.”  The verse for the week was “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has imagined what the Lord has prepared for those who love Him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9.)  I taught the lesson with a slight waver in my voice as I fought tears, but I was fully convicted that what the Word says is true.  I obviously was pretty surprised by the way things had turned out, and was clinging to the verse as I worked with the kiddos to memorize it. 

The next day, I posted the verse on Facebook, and I commented on how I loved that in working with the children, the Lord was also teaching me and shaping my heart.  The timing of the story seemed off at first, but the amazing thing is, the timing was actually just right for my heart.  Little did I know that another HUGE surprise was coming our way…

Friday afternoon at about four o’clock, my phone rang and it was Billy, who was downstairs, working in the basement, and hanging out with Payton for a couple minutes.  He said I needed to come down for a minute, and I begrudgingly climbed the two flights of stairs from our second floor to our basement.  I was trying to get ready to leave to go meet my sister for coffee.  “This better be good…” I smugly thought.

As I rounded the corner into our basement I heard a familiar voice on the speaker phone.  Why was Lesley from Lifeline calling this afternoon?  The next words she spoke about knocked me over- “Hey, are you ready to see a picture of the sweet baby girl I have for you?”

!!!!!!!!! All I could do was sob out, “WHAT?!?!” 

Then, as a beautiful little brown face framed with adorable little curls appeared on our computer screen, we fell in love all over again.

We are so thrilled to tell you that the Lord has blessed us with a third daughter!!!!  She is three and a half months old and waits for us in Ethiopia.  She was born just about a week before we traveled in October to meet Addie.

The emotions are really indescribable right now.  We are, without a doubt, still deeply grieving the loss of our precious Addie, but we are overwhelmed by the Lord’s goodness, faithfulness, sovereignty, love, and provision.  This sweet baby doesn’t replace our Addie, but we are nonetheless overjoyed that the Lord saw fit to bless us so quickly with another child, and that He has opened our hearts to love her and rejoice over her.

Her Ethiopian name is Yetnayet.  I looked it up on the internet Friday night, and only found it on one site, so we are not totally sure of what it means, but really like what that site said- “Yetnayet means ‘as far as the horizon.’”  Now, by itself that doesn’t mean much, but Payton’s middle name is Grace, and Addie’s middle name is Mihret, meaning “mercy.”  Our girl’s names will forever remind us that He gives “grace and mercy as far as the horizon.”  Our circumstances and pain have not changed the greatness of our God.  He is I AM.  He remains full of “grace and mercy as far as the horizon.”  We are so thankful.  His surprises sometimes bring happiness, and sometimes bring sorrow, but His promises always bring joy and peace and hope.

……………………...................................................................................................................................

Please pray for our family as we continue to work through a mess of every emotion seemingly possible.  Please pray for our sweet Yetnayet as she waits for us in an orphanage.  Yetnayet is definitely hard to say, so when you pray, you can call her by the name we are giving her- Elloree Claire Yetnayet Baker- she will be called Ellie Claire.  Pray she is well cared for and loved.  Please specifically pray that she receives good nutrition- not that she doesn’t go hungry, because the children in this orphanage are fed plenty.  That may seem random, but she has a health concern related to such.  Pray that this process moves quickly and smoothly.  We will have to travel two more times, once for Ethiopian court and then for US Embassy clearance.

Lastly, please don’t stop praying for our Addie.  We found out Friday that she is indeed with her biological father, and while in most cases, that is ideal for a child, we are fearful of what that could mean for her.  We are trusting, as always, in our Father who loves her far more than we ever could. 

The Lord is good.  We have seen and known that all through this process.  How wonderful it is to have the blessing of more tangible evidence of His goodness in our lives! We can’t wait to show you pictures of our sweet Ellie Claire, but can’t post them online until she is legally ours in Ethiopia.  Next time you see Billy or I, or anyone in our family, for that matter, ask to see a picture- She is just beautiful and we love to show her off J.

Blessings!

Dear Addie,

Hey Friends-
I wrote the following words, knowing full well that my precious girl would never read them, but felt like there were so many things I desperately wanted to say to her.  I post the letter and the slide show at the end to remember her and celebrate her.  Thanks for reading/watching (by the way, I think the pictures are only viewable on a computer, not an iPhone or iPad).  Blessings!



My Dear, Sweet Addie,

I know that you will most likely never read the following words, but my heart needs to say them…

I love you so very much.  From the first moment I knew you existed, I loved you.  And then I saw your face- I loved you even more.  And then I prayed and prayed I would hold you soon, and I loved you even more.  And then the long awaited day came, and I snuggled you close and kissed your sweet cheeks and saw how full of personality and life you were- and I was head over heels in love with you.  And then I received a birth certificate that listed me (!) as your mother- and I was beyond honored.  You have my heart and always will. 

We have a room in our home that is painted the brightest pink imaginable for you, by request of your big sister, Payton.  I am so sad that you will never sleep in your beautiful bed and that I will never rock you in the corner chair.  I am sad that we will never read bedtime stories or together arrange the pile of stuffed animals already designated for you. 

I literally hate the fact that you will never meet your pink-loving big sister.  She loves you so much, too.  She is funny and loves to laugh and smile just like you.  You guys would have been an absolute mess together, and my heart breaks that you won’t be a part of Payton’s “shows,” that she won’t be able to boss you around J, teach you, argue with you, and love you like only a big sister can. 

I am so sad that I will not get a chance to figure out how to take care of and fix your adorable little head of curls.  I am sad that you will never again grab my hair and pull with all your might, as you grin and try to figure out what on earth it is on top of my head.  I am sad that I will never hear you laugh again.  I am devastated that I will only see your smiles in the few pictures I have of you.

I am sad that you will not experience a Baker Family vacation to our favorite place, Disney World.  I am sad that you won’t be joining us as we dance and sing along to Josh Turner’s “Why Don’t We Just Dance” in the kitchen while we get our dinner ready.  I am sad that you will not be playing one of Payton’s “games” with us in the car.  I am sad that you will not get to go with Daddy and Payton to Sugar and Spice for donuts on Saturday mornings. I am sad that you will not experience movie night, eating pizza for dinner in the den, while I hope against all odds that our rug survives.  I am sad that you won’t be going with us to the beach or the mountains or on any other of our family’s adventures.

I am sad that you will not be there for our Thursday outings with Aunt Andrea and Micah. I am sad that you won’t be playing dress-up, doctor, and board games with your cousins, Sophie and Ben, while Uncle Kris, Aunt Angie, Daddy and I listen from downstairs for screaming, crashing, crying, and laughing.  I am sad that you will not be growing up with your cousin, June, who is just one month older than you.  I am sad that you will not be here this summer when we welcome June’s brother or sister.   I am sad that you won’t be playing in my old bedroom or fighting over the green chair at Mimi and Grandaddy’s.  I am sad that you won’t be getting your nails done and playing on the playground at Mimi and Pawpaw’s.  I am sad that you won’t get to ask me a thousand times “When are they gonna be here?!” on days when Mammaw and Papaw are coming to town.  You are blessed with three sets of wonderful grandparents, a gazillion aunts and uncles, great-grandparents, and so many cousins that love you so very much.

I am sad that Grandaddy won’t be walking down the church aisles showing you off while we would have been dedicating your life and our parenting to the Lord.  I am sad that you won’t be singing and dancing with me as I lead our Walnut Street children in worshipping Jesus.  I am sad that I won’t get to see your wonder and awe as you hear stories from the Word for the first time.  I am sad that I will not be praying with you to receive Christ as your Lord and Savior, and that Grandaddy will not be baptizing you, as you follow Him in obedience.  I am sad that I will not see all of how the Lord uses your life for His glory.  BUT, I am so thankful that I have already seen pieces of that-

Your life has caused so many people to cry out to God.  I hate that you will never know that literally thousands of people have prayed over your life.   The Lord has heard your name uttered from people all over the world. Your life has made people open the Word and search the Scriptures.  Your life has opened the eyes and hearts of so many to the plight of orphans.  Your life has made me love our God more, hunger for Him more, and discover more fully the truths of His word and who He is.  Your life has already brought the Father so much glory.  One of Payton’s favorite Bible stories is the one about the poor widow who gave all she had to the Lord, and it reminds me that He has a purpose for you whether you are a beggar on the streets or a princess in a palace- the same general purpose He has for me- to bring Him glory.  He will use a life regardless of what it looks like, and He has already used yours.

You have brought so much happiness to so many people.  I saw the way your amazing nannies kissed you and cuddled you and looked at you and talked to you.  Their faces lit up when they saw you, and they always looked a bit reluctant to hand you over. J  They called you “Mihru” instead of “Mihret,” and I was told by Woudneh that it is like a pet-name, a term of endearment.  They love you so much, and so does Woudneh.  He has protected your life from the beginning, and he has always sought what was best for you.

I am so sad that you will not get to wear all the pretty clothes hanging in your closet.  It hurts my heart to imagine you in rags or to consider that you may end up living on the streets or back in an orphanage.  While we were in Ethiopia with you I considered changing your clothes- putting you in something pretty and new and girly and clean.  I changed my mind and thought about the story of the prodigal son- how when he finally returned home, his father placed a beautiful robe on his shoulders.  I imagined that when we were finally reunited for good that I would do the same- clothe you like the daughter you officially were.  Now, I am praying that you know and love Jesus, and that He will be the One to some day dress you in the robe of a princess- the clothes of a daughter of the King. 

I pray that the life I fear for you is something from which the Lord chooses to deliver you.  I pray you are loved and cared for by a good, Jesus-loving father.  I pray that you never go hungry.  I pray that you go to school and learn to read and write.  I pray that you get the medical care you need.  I pray that you will have clean water to drink and a warm bed a night.  I pray that you have toys to play with and crayons to color with.  I pray that you have a nice place to take a bath and clean clothes to wear.  However, my greatest concern for you is my greatest concern for Payton and any other child the Lord may give us- that you would know Jesus.  There is nothing- NOTHING- on earth that lasts, that satisfies, that never disappoints, other than Him.  This world may be a cold, ugly place for you, but if you know and love Jesus, there will be a day of no more tears, no more pain, no more sickness, no more hunger, no more injustice, no more loneliness, no more homelessness, no more orphans- A day when mercy and grace will reign over all and when we will see the beautiful face of our Lord.  Until that day, I pray that you find all you need in Him.  You will NOT be fatherless if you trust Him.  He will be your daddy, your ABBA Father, and He will never fail you.  I have already told you that I am overwhelmed with sadness, but the mystery of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ is that while grief threatens to cripple me, I can be filled with joy and peace.  There is a scar on my heart with your name on it, but I will live and hope and rest because there are scars on the Savior’s hands with our names graven on them.

You are not legally mine anymore, but you will always be my daughter in my heart.  I am so so  so sorry that I will not be coming back for you.  I know I promised you I would be back, and it makes my stomach turn to think of the trust and happiness in your eyes as you listened to me assure you that I was your mommy.  I so wish I could tell you good-bye in person, that I could kiss your face again, that I could sing “Jesus Loves Me” to you one more time, but I have to trust that the Lord has you in His hands.  His hands are mighty and strong, and yet gentle and kind.  He loves you more than I ever could, and you are His before you are mine or anyone else’s.

I know that I speak for many, many people when I write that we are blessed to have known you and loved you.  You will always be loved by many, but more importantly, you will always be loved by ONE.  He will never leave you, never forsake you.

Good-bye for now, my precious gift.  I hope with all that I am, that we will meet again, in a place where we will never have to cry, worry, wait, hurt, or be apart.  Until then, Adelaide “Addie” Mihret, I will not stop loving you or longing for you or praying for you. 

With all my heart,

 Mommy

Here is our Answer...

Hi Friends,

Thank you so much for your prayers and encouragement.  Each and every text, email, Facebook message, card, and phone call has meant more than we could possibly say.  I know many of you are concerned for us and are wondering how we are doing, but you’re afraid that we may break to pieces if you ask.  So, I’ll let you have a window into our world, without you having to test our fragility. J

The past two weeks have been, without question, the hardest either Billy or I have ever experienced.  We were at Kiawah Island on New Year’s Eve morning when the news came.  Billy answered the phone, and I knew right away from the tone of his voice, that the news we were terrified to hear was indeed being shared.  I ran upstairs, pretty much screaming and hysterical- feeling like the world was suddenly spinning too fast for me to remain standing.  I am so thankful that my dear family was there to take Payton out to the beach to play so that she didn’t have to witness her mommy and daddy falling to pieces.  I remember telling Billy repeatedly through my sobs, “This can’t be real.  This can’t be real.” 

Even today, almost two weeks later, there are moments where I feel like this is some sort of dream gone horribly wrong- that this can’t be real.  And yet, it is terribly, awfully, painfully real.  The little girl who had a birth certificate with “Billy and Jodi Baker” listed as her mother and father, who had a passport with her name listed as “Mihret William Baker,” who has our hearts fully and completely, no longer legally belongs to us.  We are saddened beyond words, we are aching for her, we are angry at the injustice, and we are tired and weary, but we are trusting.

We are trusting in a God who says that He works all things together for the good of those who love Him.  We are trusting in a God who is full of mercy and grace, and who is always just.  We are trusting in a God who holds each day of our lives in His mighty hands.  We are trusting in a God who keeps all of His promises.  We are trusting in a God who loves our Addie more than we ever could. 

Still, the pain continues.  There are days when I feel like I really just want to go back to bed and stay there forever, but for the sake of my wonderful husband and child, I pray for strength and the will to go about my day.  Wednesday, I thought I was feeling pretty good, so I headed off to the mall with a bag of adorable, tiny pink clothes to return.  I took one step inside the store and fell to pieces.  Thankfully, the store manager was extremely kind, and she helped me with great gentleness.  I left the mall and just sat in the parking lot weeping.  There are some of you who have commented to me that you admire my strength.  I truly, truly, truly, appreciate your kindness and encouragement, but here’s the thing- I am totally, completely weak- there is no strength in me whatsoever.  I just happen to serve a God whose strength has no end.  He has graciously bestowed upon Billy and I the faith needed to persevere through these dark days.  We know, because He has taught us, that He does not change based on our circumstances.  Jennifer Rothschild wrote, “God is not ‘I feel’ or ‘I think.’ God is ‘I AM.’”

Even in the pain, we have hope.  We have hope that our God is compassionate and caring, and as Psalm 27:13  says, “[We} believe [that we] will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”  Even in the pain we have joy.  We have joy because though the Lord is allowing us to walk through this pain, we know His blessings still fill our lives daily.  Even in the pain we have peace.  We have peace because we know that the Prince of Peace is always with us, and that He has won the final victory.  He may allow Satan to wreak havoc on this earth, but there will be a day when His mercy and grace take their rightful place, reigning over His kingdom. 

As I said, He has given Billy and I an abundance of faith, but one of my greatest fears when things started to go wrong was that this would all have a negative impact on my Payton’s faith in the Lord.  For five months, she had been praying for Addie by name.  She had helped pick out the paint for Addie’s room, and then had helped her daddy get the crib put together and the whole nursery ready while I was out of town one weekend.  She had been wearing “big sister” shirts proudly.  She had chosen a necklace for me for Christmas with both her and Addie’s initials.  She had excitedly picked out a Minnie Mouse dressed as Ariel for Addie for Christmas.  So many times, she had eagerly planned all that she would show and teach her new sister.   When we told her the hard truth, we tried to frame it positively, reassuring her that the Lord would bless us with another baby.  Her response was, “I don’t want another baby.  I like Addie.”  The sight of her pitiful face and tears still haunt me.  No child should have to experience the loss of a sibling.  Her behavior over the next week showed she was struggling to understand what was going on around her, and we knew she was grieving in her own little way.  She will still make comments from time to time that let us know she is thinking about it.  Her fears at first were our fears, too- “How will they get clothes for Addie?  How will they feed her?”  How on earth do you answer these questions to your four-year-old child?  We answered with truth- “We have to trust that the Lord will take care of her.”

Yesterday as we were driving, Payton said, “Mommy, sometimes you pick, sometimes Daddy picks, and sometimes I pick.  But God, He picks better.  Right, Mommy?”  Shew.  Right, Payton- absolutely right.  I asked her where she learned that, and she replied that she just knew.  Thank you, Jesus, she knows. 

She still prays for Addie each night, and while playing, she will catch herself if she mentions Addie’s name and start talking about “the baby” instead.  Yesterday at lunch, she drew a picture of the family that was of three “peachy” people, with one pretty "brown" girl noticeably missing.  My heart wrenched at the picture, and yet, with Payton’s smile, I could already see the goodness of the Lord.  She still loves; she still trusts- not because of anything Billy and I have done.  Yes, we strive daily to teach her the truths of the Word, but all too frequently, we fall miserably short in our words and actions, and way too often, we fail to show her the truths of His Word.  I am beyond thankful that He chooses to constantly show us mercy and continue to reveal Himself to the heart of this precious four-year-old little girl.

...................................................

Three years ago, this month, I stood beside a hospital bed where my big sister lay in severe pain.  The doctor looked at her husband, my father, and me, and told us very plainly that her kidneys and liver were failing and that she may not make it.  I remember a similar feeling as I had that dreadful morning at the beach- the world was suddenly spinning way too fast and out of control.  This could not be real.  The next several weeks were a series of ups and downs as she would get better and then worse and then better again, and so on.  I remember standing before our church to update the congregation on her condition one Sunday and telling them that we were praising the Lord for healing our sweet Angie.  The next thing I said has rung in my ears about a million times since we first experienced struggles while we were in Ethiopia- “Make no mistake- if the Lord had chosen to not spare Angie’s life, but to take her home, he would STILL BE GOD.  He would still be good, and we would still be praising Him.” 

So, here I am, faced with a choice- a question- will I sit down, pout, and say, “God, you messed up.  How could you do this?!”  Or, will I stand up and sing the praises of a God who I know never “messes up-“ a God who is always loving, kind, merciful, gracious, compassionate, forgiving, just, “slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love,” patient, peace-giving, faithful, all-powerful, all-knowing, all-seeing, mighty, and strong?  A God who did more than enough when He gave up His only Son for my sake and your's? Here is our answer-

“But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”  Joshua 24:15

.................................................

As we serve, we trust, and as we trust, we praise, and as we praise, we wait.  Yep, there’s that word again.  I thought we were nearly done waiting, but alas, the Lord is not yet finished with this story.  We have requested to be matched with another baby girl, and as soon as our agency has a need, we will be called.  We do have the option of choosing to have the agency pass the referral to another family if need be, but we are praying that when the time comes, our hearts will have healed enough that we can rejoice and love the child as fully as she deserves. While we wait, we know that He can see all that tomorrow holds, and that He is fully equipped to strengthen our hearts and our faith.  It is our prayer that He is using our pain to pour His strength upon your life as well.  

Blessings!