Last week we passed the 4-month anniversary of our dossier arriving in Kigali. It's amazing how quickly things can change. When we began this process (even as recently as when we mailed our dossier), our agency was predicting that we would receive our approval from Rwanda in 3-6 months. Back in December I looked forward to April with dreamy optimism, imagining how surreal it would be to know that our approval could arrive ANY DAY!
Well, here we are in April, and I have absolutely no expectation of hearing about our approval anytime soon. The predictions are now running at 7-9 months, and considering the large number of families "ahead" of us still waiting for news, I know we have a ways to go.
I am so thankful for the distraction of planning our May 21 fundraiser right now. Apart from being overwhelmed with all the details, it's been a relief to feel like I'm doing something productive rather than just twiddling my thumbs and waiting.
Time is going to pass slower starting on May 22. The insanely busy schedule I've been juggling since last summer is going to abruptly end with the close of preschool, women's Bible study, and our fundraiser. I'll have more quiet time to ponder the snail's pace of this adoption process, and as painful as I know it will be at times, I'm not sure that's a bad thing.
Over the past several weeks I've watched as my adoptive friends have awaited the promised news of their child referrals. Days and weeks passed, "no later than" deadlines expired, and still no news. But through it all I have witnessed God's strength and grace in them in a way that can only be experienced through this type of hardship. I don't wish the agony of indefinite waiting on anyone, but I trust that there is value in it, and perhaps even a blessing that would be forfeit with faster returns.
Still, I wish for speed. It's only natural. Patience is divine.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Fundraiser Scheduled for May 21!
We are so excited to announce our upcoming fundraising event to take place on Friday, May 21st, 2010! The plans for this special night have been in the works since last October, and I cannot believe the time has finally come to begin ticket sales.
We would be honored by your presence as we share our unfolding adoption story and reflect on the milestones of this exciting, challenging, and beautiful journey. The evening will begin with a silent auction, followed by dinner and a time of sharing about Rwanda, the orphans, and our personal decision to expand our family through adoption. We will conclude with dessert and a live musical performance by Rob and Joyous Derner.
Our fundraising efforts that night will be multi-faceted, including the silent auction, freewill donations, and (hopefully) profits from ticket sales. That being said, our desire for this event goes way beyond raising adoption funds. This is also an opportunity to increase awareness of the orphan crisis while providing our supporters with a fun, inexpensive evening of dining and entertainment. We're hoping for a full house, so please pass this invitation along to anyone you know who might be interested in attending!
Here are the details:
Embraced by Grace
A Fundraising Event Benefitting Our Rwandan Adoption
Friday, May 21st, 2010
5:30 PM - 9:00 PM
(Silent auction begins at 5:30; Dinner to be served at 6:30)
Lancaster Evangelical Free Church, Lititz, PA
Tickets: $12
Purchase deadline: May 7, 2010
Purchase deadline: May 7, 2010
TO PURCHASE TICKETS:
By CREDIT CARD/PAYPAL:
- Click on the “Donate” button located on the right side of our blog, beneath the heading “Fundraiser Ticket Purchases."
- Send an email to AlisonHHT@aol.com, or call me (Alison) at 717-626-0217 to specify your contact information and the number of tickets purchased.
By CHECK:
- If you would like to purchase tickets by cash or check, please email me or comment on this post with your contact info, and I will be in touch with you shortly!
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Waiting for Spring
After one of the longest, coldest, snowiest winters I've experienced in Pennsylvania, the temperatures have abruptly made an about-face and headed north. The sunshine I could see but not feel just a few weeks ago is now deliciously warm on my skin. With the return of morning birdsong comes the promise of a changing season, and the reminder that no matter how deep the snowdrifts, spring always comes back around eventually.
This means it's time to dig out our warm-weather clothing to replace our winter wardrobes. As I mentally prepared for this task earlier today, my mind wandered down a familiar path to the inevitable question, "The next time we have to do the clothing swap, will our baby be home?"
Dates can be funny things. On the one hand, they're concrete and serve an essential purpose in planning or commemorating events. One the other hand, when you're waiting for important news that feels like it will never come, dates begin to lose their meaning. Life is divided into two categories: B.D. and A.D. (Before Dossier and After Dossier). Everything else blurs together in a haze of hoping, dreaming, aching, crying, trusting, guessing, calculating, analyzing, venting, and praying.
Right now we're three months A.D., with absolutely no idea if we're almost up to bat, waiting in the locker room, or still sitting in the stadium parking lot. We might hear word of our approval in another month (very unlikely), three months (mmm...maybe), or seven months (please, God, no). Like spring, the good news is bound to come eventually. But right now those snowdrifts are looking impossibly deep.
There's no denying it: not knowing is hard - much harder than I expected. But in spite of the frustration and longing for something to happen, I sense myself acclimating to the wait and even surrendering to it on occasion. It's sort of like unconsciously slipping into a rhythm and then falling back out again as soon as you realize you're grooving. I can't force myself to keep the beat, but it sneaks up on me now and then, and those brief respites of acceptance are oddly refreshing.
Two years ago I suffered through one of the hardest years of my life and ended up in a cold, black, lonely pit. Oh, how I wished I could just climb back out and move on with my life! I wanted the healing to be done yesterday, but as weeks and months passed, I finally had to accept that recovery takes time. The war I was fighting wouldn't be won in a day or a month, or maybe even in a year. I had to face it battle by battle, trusting that victory would come with perseverance. And perseverance requires time. Lots and lots of time. It also requires trust. Lots and lots of trust.
Maybe the rhythm is felt when trust finds its stride and forgets to fret over dates and schedules and the myriad unknowns. No wonder I only groove with it for a few beats at a time...I like to wear all those unanswered questions around my neck like a string of worry beads.
But for tonight I'm going to slip them off and try to find that beat again. Because when all is said and done, Someone has already counted every day, hour, minute, second, and nanosecond of our wait, and none of this is foggy to Him.
Spring is His specialty.
This means it's time to dig out our warm-weather clothing to replace our winter wardrobes. As I mentally prepared for this task earlier today, my mind wandered down a familiar path to the inevitable question, "The next time we have to do the clothing swap, will our baby be home?"
Dates can be funny things. On the one hand, they're concrete and serve an essential purpose in planning or commemorating events. One the other hand, when you're waiting for important news that feels like it will never come, dates begin to lose their meaning. Life is divided into two categories: B.D. and A.D. (Before Dossier and After Dossier). Everything else blurs together in a haze of hoping, dreaming, aching, crying, trusting, guessing, calculating, analyzing, venting, and praying.
Right now we're three months A.D., with absolutely no idea if we're almost up to bat, waiting in the locker room, or still sitting in the stadium parking lot. We might hear word of our approval in another month (very unlikely), three months (mmm...maybe), or seven months (please, God, no). Like spring, the good news is bound to come eventually. But right now those snowdrifts are looking impossibly deep.
There's no denying it: not knowing is hard - much harder than I expected. But in spite of the frustration and longing for something to happen, I sense myself acclimating to the wait and even surrendering to it on occasion. It's sort of like unconsciously slipping into a rhythm and then falling back out again as soon as you realize you're grooving. I can't force myself to keep the beat, but it sneaks up on me now and then, and those brief respites of acceptance are oddly refreshing.
Two years ago I suffered through one of the hardest years of my life and ended up in a cold, black, lonely pit. Oh, how I wished I could just climb back out and move on with my life! I wanted the healing to be done yesterday, but as weeks and months passed, I finally had to accept that recovery takes time. The war I was fighting wouldn't be won in a day or a month, or maybe even in a year. I had to face it battle by battle, trusting that victory would come with perseverance. And perseverance requires time. Lots and lots of time. It also requires trust. Lots and lots of trust.
Maybe the rhythm is felt when trust finds its stride and forgets to fret over dates and schedules and the myriad unknowns. No wonder I only groove with it for a few beats at a time...I like to wear all those unanswered questions around my neck like a string of worry beads.
But for tonight I'm going to slip them off and try to find that beat again. Because when all is said and done, Someone has already counted every day, hour, minute, second, and nanosecond of our wait, and none of this is foggy to Him.
Spring is His specialty.
"Spring is Coming"
From the album Beauty Will Rise, by Steven Curtis Chapman
We planted the seed while the tears of our grief soaked the ground
The sky lost its sun, and the world lost its green to lifeless brown
Now the chilling wind has turned the earth hard as stone
And silently seed rise beneath ice and snow
And my heart's heavy now
But I'm not letting go of this hope I have that tells me
Spring is coming, Spring is coming
And all we've been hoping and longing for soon will appear
Spring is coming, Spring is coming
It won't be long now, it's just about here
Hear the birds start to sing
Feel the life in the breeze
Watch the ice melt away
The kids are coming out to play
Feel the sun on your skin
Growing strong and warm again
Watch the ground: there's something moving
Something is breaking through
New life is breaking through
Spring is coming, Spring is coming
And all we've been hoping and longing for soon will appear
Spring is coming, Spring is coming
And it won't be long now, it's just about here
Friday, February 12, 2010
Blog #2
Adoption consumes so much thought, energy, and emotion that sometimes I find myself mentally compartmentalizing it from the rest of life. Add onto that the fact that I've "met" (online) so many wonderful new adopting friends, and you have the recipe for a parallel universe!
In an effort to communicate a more well-rounded picture of our life, a few days ago I created a family blog. Once our adoption is finished and we finally hold that sweet child in our arms, Embraced by Grace will be no more (or at least on hold), and our continuing journey will be recorded on this new family blog.
So, if you'd like to follow our family journey in addition to our adoption journey, please check out McLennan Moments!
In an effort to communicate a more well-rounded picture of our life, a few days ago I created a family blog. Once our adoption is finished and we finally hold that sweet child in our arms, Embraced by Grace will be no more (or at least on hold), and our continuing journey will be recorded on this new family blog.
So, if you'd like to follow our family journey in addition to our adoption journey, please check out McLennan Moments!
Friday, February 5, 2010
the psalm in my heart
"Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him." -Psalm 126:5-6
Father, I don't know how to pray right now. From the very beginning of this adoption process, I've resisted asking You for speed. You've taught me time and again that Your timing is better than mine, and rarely does it resemble my mach-10 tendencies. Perhaps by now I should've mastered the virtue of patience, yet here I sit, literally aching with eagerness.
You know my soul, so You know I want this baby in my arms now. You know I want You to shred red tape, fill vacancies, move hearts, and perform whatever miracles are necessary to bridge the gap between dream and reality in record time.
But I know that I'm near-sighted, and You're not. I'm weak, and You're strong. I'm confused, and You're omniscient. I'm anxious, and You're sovereign. I know - in the words of my dear friend Allie - that "trying to stop God with red tape is like trying to stop a tornado with a hairdryer."
I'm not asking You for speed; I'm not even asking You for patience. I'm asking for a new mind. Help me to focus not on what You're doing, but on who You are. Not on what I long for, but on what You've given.
You knit my first two children together in my womb, and now You're knitting another into my heart. It hurts, but I welcome the pain, because I trust that when the labor passes, a treasure will remain.
So thank You for what You're doing. I don't understand it, and I can't see the end from the beginning. But I know who You are...Calmer of the seas, Giver of life, Healer of the broken, Lover of the lost.
Author of my days.
May my weary heart embrace the masterpiece You have already written, trusting that the finale will be more breathtaking than anything my finite mind could ever dream.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
I had no idea...
...it was going to be this hard. Wow. Something happened over the last two weeks, and suddenly the wait ahead of us feels eternal.
There are 9 families in Rwanda meeting their precious babies this week, and while I rejoice with every one of them, I also can't look at the pictures and read the blog posts without aching for our time to come. Our dossier's only been in for 6 weeks. How am I going to last 6 MONTHS?!
There are 9 families in Rwanda meeting their precious babies this week, and while I rejoice with every one of them, I also can't look at the pictures and read the blog posts without aching for our time to come. Our dossier's only been in for 6 weeks. How am I going to last 6 MONTHS?!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
One Month In
Well, we're approaching the 1-month mark since our dossier's arrival in Kigali, which feels impossible. The busyness of the Christmas season and the distraction of having houseguests for two weeks helped the time fly by!
I have a feeling the rest of winter is going to stretch a bit longer. Cabin fever is already setting in, with spring still months away. The kids are going stir crazy in spite of their fun mornings at preschool, and I'm not much better. Working out on a treadmill in our cold basement just can't compare with evening walks beside the cornfields or reading books on a blanket in our backyard.
It's strange...sometimes our adoption feels like little more than a dream, now more so than ever. As eager as we are to meet our new addition, just waiting instead of doing makes it all a bit surreal. I thought this stage would be full of longing and impatience, but so far what I've experienced alternates between disbelief that it's really going to happen and sadness that we're missing so many precious moments with our baby. This was especially true on Christmas morning, when I was struck by the realization that one member of our family was absent from our celebration. I was so touched when a dear friend showed her understanding of this by giving me a gift - an ornament that read "God Child, 2009." How appropriate.
On a positive note, it's wonderful to be free of adoption-related responsibilities for the time being. Now that our paperwork is finished, I'm looking forward to turning my attention to some other goals: reading adoptive parenting books, catching up on my kids' scrapbooks so I can start a new one for our adopted child, and planning a fundraising event in May.
Between completing those tasks, working with Tim in our contracting business, volunteering in the library at our children's preschool, researching homeschooling curriculum for Annabell's upcoming year of kindergarten, potty-training Liam, helping out at church in the women's and children's ministries, educating myself about gardening (getting ready to plant my first one this spring), reading through the historical books of the Bible, learning to cook gluten-free foods, and painting our new shutters, I don't think I'll get bored.
I have a feeling the rest of winter is going to stretch a bit longer. Cabin fever is already setting in, with spring still months away. The kids are going stir crazy in spite of their fun mornings at preschool, and I'm not much better. Working out on a treadmill in our cold basement just can't compare with evening walks beside the cornfields or reading books on a blanket in our backyard.
It's strange...sometimes our adoption feels like little more than a dream, now more so than ever. As eager as we are to meet our new addition, just waiting instead of doing makes it all a bit surreal. I thought this stage would be full of longing and impatience, but so far what I've experienced alternates between disbelief that it's really going to happen and sadness that we're missing so many precious moments with our baby. This was especially true on Christmas morning, when I was struck by the realization that one member of our family was absent from our celebration. I was so touched when a dear friend showed her understanding of this by giving me a gift - an ornament that read "God Child, 2009." How appropriate.
On a positive note, it's wonderful to be free of adoption-related responsibilities for the time being. Now that our paperwork is finished, I'm looking forward to turning my attention to some other goals: reading adoptive parenting books, catching up on my kids' scrapbooks so I can start a new one for our adopted child, and planning a fundraising event in May.
Between completing those tasks, working with Tim in our contracting business, volunteering in the library at our children's preschool, researching homeschooling curriculum for Annabell's upcoming year of kindergarten, potty-training Liam, helping out at church in the women's and children's ministries, educating myself about gardening (getting ready to plant my first one this spring), reading through the historical books of the Bible, learning to cook gluten-free foods, and painting our new shutters, I don't think I'll get bored.
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