Our Family's "Sanctity of Life" Journey

Today is Sanctity of Life Sunday.  This is a day when believers join together and celebrate the fact that our God is the giver of life, a day when we pray for mothers around the world faced with impossible choices for the children they are carrying, a day when we mourn the 40 million children lost to abortion globally each year.  40 million.*

Three years ago, Billy and I had the privilege of pre-viewing the movie, October Baby, before its official release.  I was so moved by the movie, I blogged about it- Every Life is Beautiful,- I advertised it by wearing the free t-shirt we’d been given, and I told anyone who would listen about how they simply had to go see it.  I even went to see it again at the theater after it was released and then bought it on blu-Ray.  I was seriously passionate about this film.  The movie tells the story of a fictional young lady who discovers as a young adult that she is the survivor of an abortion.  It tells of her physical and emotional trauma.  It tells the story of her redemption in a wonderful adoptive family.  It paints a beautiful picture of mercy and forgiveness as she seeks her biological mother.  It is a fictional tale, but one that is played out in reality quite more often than most are aware.

This movie became all too real to us a year after we viewed it for the first time.  You see, our Addie Mihret was the survivor of an abortion.

I have previously not shared this with many folks for fear of sensationalizing her story and invoking unmerciful judgment from the clueless masses upon her mother.  However, as I consider Sanctity of Life Sunday, I feel the Lord is prompting me to share how abortion has affected our family.

We learned after meeting Addie’s biological mother, that she had been forced by Addie’s biological father to have an abortion.  He paid for it, she went, the doctor did the procedure.  It didn’t work.

The doctor said Addie’s bones were just too strong.  I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Lord was protecting her.  Why He allows other children to be taken home to him all too soon, I cannot answer, but He chose for Addie to live.  Her life is an absolute miracle.  From what I know about abortion survivors, there is potential for her to suffer physically and emotionally for the rest of her life, but I am so thankful that she has a chance at that life, as difficult as it may turn out to be.

I am thankful that though I will probably never see her again, I had the opportunity to know her and love her.  I am so thankful that her life was not snuffed out before she had the chance at impacting our family and the hundreds of folks who read my blog.  I am so glad that I know her laugh and her smile.  I am also abundantly thankful that Ellie Claire’s mother chose to give her life.  I am thankful that she is snug as a bug in her crib upstairs because she was given the chance to live.

I am so incredibly heart-broken at the millions of babies in our nation and around the world that will never take a breath outside their mothers’ “safe” wombs.  What fathers, leaders, writers, musicians, doctors, scientists, preachers, world-changers are missing from our earth because they were never given a chance at life?  It literally makes my stomach twist in knots.

There was a point in time that my horror at the abortions daily taking place in our country made me judgmental, angry, and indignant towards every woman who made that choice.  Let me be clear before I go on, abortion is a sin, and regardless of my feelings about it or those who participate in such, it’s wrong.  But before I go slamming my Bible in front of them, yelling at them and condemning them, I must first offer mercy.  After all, that is what I have been offered by our Father.  I need His mercy so much and so frequently, I am amazed that He chooses to call me His child.  When I made Christ my Lord and Savior, and in His grace and mercy, He imparted His righteousness upon me, He knew I was going to keep giving Him a gazillion opportunities to exercise His mercy weekly… okay, daily... and He STILL saved me.  

I have shared that Addie’s Ethiopian name is “Mihret,” which in fact means, mercy.  I see how the Lord had mercy on her life when he protected her from the poison of abortion.  I also see how her life calls me, as a believer, to offer mercy.  Addie’s story opened my eyes to a world that I had not had the opportunity to see before.  This is a world where there are mothers who are well aware that their unborn babies are in fact living, breathing children.  This is a world where women love their precious children.  This is a world where women are desperate.  They are desperate to not see their children live in the poverty and despair that surround their daily lives.  They are desperate to not watch their children waste away to nothing as they starve.  They are desperate not to watch their children beg on the streets. They are keenly aware that if they give birth to their child in their “unwed” state, their families will disown them and put them out on the streets.  They will have to quit school and have no options for providing for their children.  Many of these women, like Addie’s mother, are completely ignorant to the option of adoption, and most of these women have not yet been reached by ministries striving to offer them and their children a chance for a dignified, happy life.  Ethiopia is full of these precious women, but the United States is, too. 

When we hear about these women, is mercy and compassion our first response, or is judgment and condemnation?  And are we going to stand and shake our fists at the women all around the world who make the choice to abort their babies, and then sit by and watch apathetically as others choose life for their children, yet offer them no help?  No love?  No place to belong?  If we take a stand against abortion, we are right and just.  If we take a stand against women who are desperate, we are merciless and lacking in the love of our Father.  We must stand against abortion without standing against mothers.  We must stand for adoption and foster care and aid programs offering help to mothers who choose to raise their children.  We must in fact, do more than stand.  We must act.  We must step-up for the foster children in the U.S.  We must adopt children domestically and internationally.  We must support organizations like A Woman's Choice here in Louisville and Unadopted , which works stateside and globally.  We must offer assistance to families struggling to make ends meet.  We must support ministries like Living Hope Ethiopia, which runs the one and only maternity home in the country.   We must buy presents and gifts from non-profit "businesses" like Back to Africa and
Freeset.

Abortion is heart-breaking for both the children lost and the mothers left behind.  Let’s call it what it is- atrocious.  But let’s recognize that being appalled at abortion isn’t enough.   We have to do something, and I really, really don’t believe that includes alienating and belittling those that make what most of us who are followers of Christ consider to be a horrible choice. 

I frequently look at the pictures I have of Addie’s birth mom and long to wrap my arms around her again and tell her she is loved.  She is accepted.  She is pursued by a holy, gracious Father.  It breaks my heart that she is out there somewhere in Ethiopia, possibly struggling to feed her two sweet girls, while she is barely an adult, herself- but I am full of hope that my gracious Father will bring her aid- that through some ministry like Eyes that See, she will find dignified work and be able to care for herself and her children.  Her baby girl survived.  Will we now step up and offer this young mother the help she needs?  Let’s stop shouting and start doing something.  Let’s start recognizing the “sanctity of life” by helping those that are given the chance at life.

"Thank you Lord for the life of this little girl.  May you continue to protect her, and raise up people to help others like her."

* 40 million according to Guttmacher Institute.

Worth the Wait

One year ago today I spent the morning texting with my dear friends Erin and Deidre.  We had traveled together in October of 2012 to Ethiopia to meet our children for the first time.  On this day, they were heading back to Ethiopia to get their kids and bring them home. 

I was not.  I was taking Payton to gymnastics, getting ready for another weekend at home, while they were loading up their suitcases, full of happiness and anticipation that the time had finally come.  I was genuinely excited and glad for them and their sweet kiddos that I had grown to love.  But there was a part of me that was screaming, “This is soooooo NOT fair! I should be on that plane, too!  My Addie should be there at the transition home waiting on me!”  I was devastated that I wasn’t going back for her.

Billy and I sat in our kitchen in our then home that morning and talked about how we had been praying that the Lord would open our hearts to another child when the time came.  We took Payton to gymnastics, and as we were leaving, Billy’s phone rang.  It was our dear friend, Lesley, from Lifeline.  She was calling because she had information that two baby girls in Ethiopia were almost paperwork ready for referral.  I stared at Billy in disbelief as he told me we needed to start praying even more fervently for our hearts because we could have a referral as early as the following week. 

Late that afternoon, I was upstairs getting ready to meet my sister for coffee when Billy called from the basement to ask me to come down for a minute.  I trudged downstairs, thinking (as only a holy wife would), “This better be good… why can’t he just talk to me on the phone?”

When I walked into his “corner office,” as he called it (it was just the far corner of our completely unfinished, cold, concrete basement), Billy said, “She’s here, Lesley.” 

Some of the sweetest, most redemptive words ever spoken came out of her mouth next- “Are you ready to see your little girl?”

I sat in complete shock as the beautiful face of a tiny baby named “Yetnayet” appeared on our computer screen.  I was completely speechless other than to say, “Are you kidding me?” and “Oh, thank you Jesus.” 

That moment, that day, I saw tangibly, hope rising.  I saw redemption and faithfulness.  I saw the Lord’s hand and His sovereignty on clear display. 

Two days before, I had just written and posted my blog, Dear Addie,. My heart was still seared with the pain of losing my precious daughter, and now I was experiencing the polar opposite, exact extreme of emotion.  There was gladness and rejoicing.  He had readied my heart for this sweet girl in a way that only He is capable of doing. 

In my fleshly heart, there was apprehension.  Could I trust enough to walk this path again?  Was I ready for this?  People told us as we began to share the news, “Well, at least it can’t happen again,” and “This time will obviously be different.”  But the truth is, there are no guarantees with adoption.  There are no guarantees with anything in life, except for the guarantee of His love, His goodness, His faithfulness- the guarantee of HIM and who He is.  So, as we embarked again, we chose to fully experience the happiness of this new sweet baby, and trust that regardless of the outcome, He would remain the same.  To deny the fear we felt would be untruthful, but He gave us the faith we needed to give our fear to Him, step out, and walk ahead anyway. 

I looked up the meaning of her name almost immediately that day, and found that it meant “as far as the horizon.”  When we traveled to Ethiopia to meet her, we found out why she was given the name “Yetnayet,” but what her namer didn’t know was, her name had meaning to us as well.  Addie’s Ethiopian name, (her middle name to us), was “Mihret”, meaning mercy.  Payton’s middle name is “Grace.”  When you put our girls’ middle names together, they mean “grace and mercy as far as the horizon.”

Grace and mercy as far as the horizon.

That is what we’ve seen this year.  That’s what Ellie’s entrance into our family has put in living color.  There were moments in our grief where His presence, His grace, felt as far away as the horizon, but the truth is, it stretches as far as the horizon and beyond, and fills up every space between.  It’s always there.   It’s not just plain ole’ grace and mercy- although, that too, would be pretty wonderful- It’s grace and mercy as far as the horizon.

I don’t think it was a coincidence that we got the call for Ellie’s referral on a day when I was screaming at the Lord about “It’s not fair… I want my Addie… Why am I not on that plane?!”  I imagine Him chuckling as He watched my face when I first saw those “Sweet Cheeks,” as Payton calls them.  I wonder what He was thinking when I wrote those blogs about how ridiculously hard the wait was before my Ellie was even conceived.  I wonder what He’s thinking right now as you cry out to Him while you wait.  There are so many things we wait on- a new job, a house to sell, a husband, a prodigal child to return home, a child to call our own, a healing in our lives or in the lives of our loved-ones, and the list goes on and on.  Waiting is so hard, and after we're done waiting for one thing, it seems like we're waiting on something else.  We wait- and I imagine He sighs and shakes his head as we constantly let him know that "we have got a plan, if he will just listen."  Folks, His plan is better, we can be assured of that.  We can also be assured that He knows about waiting.  He is compassionate and empathetic, because He waits for us.  He waits for some of you to turn to Him and acknowledge Him as Lord and Savior in your life.

If you are the one for whom He’s waiting, I ask you, “What in the world are YOU waiting for?’’  Just do it.  Trust Him.  Admit that you in fact, do not have it all under control.  Admit that you do sin and fail and mess up daily (we all do, hate to break it to you).  Admit that you need His forgiveness.  Admit that you need Him, and decide today that you are gonna follow Him for the rest of your days- no you’re not going to be perfect- that’s why we need His “grace and mercy as far as the horizon.”  You stop waiting, and this day will be far more than a celebration in this family.  This will be a day that you forever seal your spot in His family- A day remembered as the day that you became the next child of God. 

I hope that this blog finds you trusting Him while many of you wait in agony for Him to move, to act, to just make a change in your life.  I can speak from experience, it’s worth the wait.  He makes it worth the wait.  He’s good, y’all.  Always is.

If You're Happy and You KNOW It

Today Billy and I and the girls are taking a road trip down to Nashville to spend the night at one of our favorite places- the Opryland Hotel. As we drive, I can't help remembering our trip home from the beach at about this same time last year.   We were still reeling from the news that Addie would never be coming home.   I think a total of about five words were spoken from South Carolina to Kentucky.  There was a feeling of helplessness in the air.  An overwhelming cloud of "how do we ever get past this?" hung over us.  There was nothing to say- just resignation to heavy, sad hearts.

Today the car is quiet again, but on this day, it is quiet in contentedness and calm.  There is a happy five year old, busily playing with her LeapPad and a sleeping baby, all cozied up with a blankie.  There is a mom and dad, slightly worn from the emotions of these past few days, but also full of hope and excitement for what the year ahead holds.  We are not content and calm because the pain is gone, because it's not. The answer to the question "how will we ever get past this?" is, we won't.  Our journey with Addie has forever changed the very fabric of this family, and there are permanent scars with her name on our hearts.  We will never be the same for having known her, loved her, and lost her.

The next anniversary we will remember will be January 18.  This is a whole different anniversary, though.  This was the day beauty began to rise- the day happiness began to creep back in- the day we first saw the amazing face of our Ellie Claire.

As I rocked this sweet child to sleep yesterday, I sat staring at her, trying to reconcile my absolute glee at being her mommy with my deep ache at not being Addie's.   My efforts were in vain.  It's simply not possible to dismiss the pain of losing Addie or the happiness of adding Ellie to our family.  Both are real, intense emotions.  So, what now?  Am I just stuck in a sea of  confusion?  One of Ellie's favorite songs is, "If You're Happy and You Know It."  Sometimes I think it might be appropriate for  me to pause the song, put a hold on the clapping, and say, "Ummmm, know it'?" That might be pushing it.  It's not that I'm not happy, because I am, indeed happy.  It's just that there's this whole mess of other emotions swirling around, too, and it's just all far too much for my finite brain to process.

This train of thought  leads me to consider, if everything had gone according to my original plan, Addie would be in my arms, sleeping... and then where would my Ellie be?  Would I be happy and know it, then?  Nope.  I'd be blissfully ignorant.  Blissful, yep, I could handle that, but ignorant?  Ignorant of my Ellie?  Not knowing my beautiful, funny, full of life, dramatic, silly, cuddly baby girl? I can't even bear the thought.   In order for me to gain one child, I first had to lose one... Oh my goodness, more complexities.   And yet-

 I know someone else that gave up a child in order to gain a whole big ol' flock of children.

Our Heavenly Father gave His one and only begotten son in order to have an open, restored relationship with me- with you.  I'm so thankful.  I'm so thankful Jesus prayed, "Not my will, but your's, Father."  I'm so thankful that Jesus willingly gave up His life for me and that the Father sacrificed His beloved, perfect Son, for my wretched, sinful self.  I'm so thankful that in His mercy He opened my heart and mind to His truth, and that now, when He looks at me, He doesn't see my "wretched, sinful self," but the righteousness of Christ.

I'm so thankful that He sees a bigger picture than I do, and that He sometimes says, "No."  Not gonna lie, I'd really really like a glimpse at that bigger picture a bit more often- I'd really like a small explanation as to why He says, "No."  That's not faith, though.  So, for now, I will trust.  I will rest in who He is and not drown in the muck of the inconsistency of how I feel.  Emotions are complicated and often distort our reality.  Therefore, I will base my reality on that which is steady and unchanging- Jesus Christ.   The Word tells us that the heart is deceptive above all else.  I will not just "follow my heart."  I will follow what I know.  I know He is good.  I know He loves me.  I know He is God.  I know HIM. I hope you do, too :)

Happy New Year, friends!  May 2014 be filled with so much of Him in our lives that He overflows onto all with whom we come in contact.  When others encounter us, may they encounter Him.