ripple effects

One small pebble in a pond creates ripples on the surface that change the makeup of the pond - in ways both seen and unseen. One seemingly small decision, one prayer uttered, one email can all change your life and potentially the lives of others. These events all have impacts that last beyond that initial drop of the pebble. You can literally change generations of your family by responding yes to a simple email. 

9 years ago today: We said "I do" at a lovely lakeside ceremony surrounded by our family and dearest friends. The Lord orchestrated so many events leading to that day and in the days that followed - including moving up our wedding date 7 months so we could focus on each other. As we adjusted to married life, we learned that having a family would take "more than typical boy meets girl activities," as my bride would say. The Lord had been stirring her heart toward adoption for years (even before we met), and He began to stir mine toward it as well.

6 years ago today: We had done our research and started fundraising. We submitted our application to adopt on our 3rd anniversary, since Alabama law requires at least 3 years of marriage before an adoption. We had a simple dinner at home, brewed some coffee, and clicked submit to God's will for our family.

5 years ago today: We were on our way to Fish Market to celebrate our 4th wedding anniversary. Our emailed pinged with this message from a case worker at our agency.

Before we opened it, we prayed for guidance and direction (as we always did) as we drove. Rebekah read the summary aloud, and I could almost audibly hear the Holy Spirit asking me, "Do you trust me?" You see, this summary was for a boy who was 8 days old and didn't "sound" 100% on paper. We continued to pray over it and discuss it at dinner. We asked our closest circle of friends to agree with us in prayer. The next morning, we said yes to being shown to this birth mother. 5 days later, we received the call that we had been matched with this precious baby boy and would meet him in 3 days. He was healthy and perfectly crafted by a holy God. He had no concerns after leaving the hospital and being placed in interim care. 5 years later, he is still the perfect fit for our family.

Today: Life looks a lot different than it did 9 years ago. We have laughed and laughed way more than we have cried. We have moved schools a few-ish times and changed jobs. We have gone on big and small adventures and loved each other well. We have faced the loss of loved ones and the devastation of a failed adoption yet survived - only because of the Lord. We have expanded our family once more through the miracle of adoption. We have been blessed beyond measure. Anniversary dinners aren't fancy at this stage of life. Tonight, we watched our boy at gymnastics class and then went to a casual dinner as a family of 4. What was going to be a Mexican outing thanks to my forgetting a necessary ingredient for our crock pot dinner ended up at our beloved Full Moon (site of our pre-meeting HWD, just got home with HWD, and celebrating matching with WRD dinners - so it all works out). We recounted our highs and lows, rejoiced over the goodness of the Lord, and of course threw down on some "parpecue." It could not have been more perfect, even if it wasn't what was planned.

Every decision you make has ripple effects. I pray that the ripples we have seen are long-lasting, far-reaching, and God-glorifying. 

full story people

Last Tuesday night, we got the call that we were matched. Again. And I would be lying if I said I wasn't terrified that we would find ourselves in the same situation as we were in last May. Our social worker reminded us continually on that call that, as we are fully aware, it is not at all final and won't be until several days after this little girl is born. The fear and the anxiety are there, and truth be told will continue to be there for the next 2 months. Don't get me wrong; the joy and excitement are still there. But so are the fear and anxiety. I've been continually reminded over the past 18 months that we have two different hands for holding two vastly different emotions. And I am so grateful for those two hands.

It's interesting how differently people process this fear about the unknown. I am cautiously optimistic about what lies ahead. I trust God and his sovereignty completely. I am doing my best to avoid sitting in my negative emotions by doing all the things and making all the to-do lists. I want to avoid the tears by just heaping on the joy and excitement in hopes that that will somehow outweigh the fear. Yesterday, we began sorting out what we had saved from HWD and determining which things were actually gender neutral so we could get a handle on what we need for WRD. In the midst of doing this, we came across some items we had purchased for our failed adoption of BSD, and I finally embraced those ugly or "bad" emotions that we 1s don't like to admit we have - because how DARE we admit to ourselves that we aren't good?? I looked at Rebekah and said, "I don't hate her [the birth mom from our failed adoption], but I hate what she did to us and put us through. And I don't like the her right now for that." She immediately responded, "That doesn't make you a bad person for feeling that way." Whew. Talk about a weight lifted and another step toward healing. 

A while ago, I was reading a book (whose name and topic escape me currently) and the author mentioned how hard it was to have new "full story" people in her life. She was writing about her divorce and how new people who didn't know the full story of her grief had to be told the story in its entirety once they had reached her inner circle of trust. She mentioned how difficult and exhausting it was to constantly be facing new scenarios in which she needed to explain the depth of her sorrow and hurt again and again. It's like picking a scab when it's starting to heal only to have it bleed everywhere again. Whenever you make new friends, you gain several full story people into your circle. Moving schools this year has brought about the opportunity to have many full story moments over the past few months. I have gained several new friends on my hallway who accept my oddities like toe touches in the hallway and knitting during class change. And they have earned the right to be full story people because they have loved and accepted me, warts and all. This doesn't make telling the full story any less painful or traumatic. Today, I had three full story moments at work - something I would not have been able to do last year. I really think had I not sat with that uncomfortable emotion yesterday, then I would not have been able to have all of those full story moments today. In the midst of all of it, one of them looked at me and said, "But man, what love this little girl is already experiencing." Y'all, that hit me so hard in the best way. This little girl is already so. very. loved - even in my cautiously optimistic state. We have to cling to that right now.

I am so grateful for growth. I am grateful that there isn't a timeline on grief - even when I try to unfairly place that clock on myself and others. And I am grateful that it's ok for some people to cry to grieve and for others to do all of the things and make all the lists as a way to cope. We all handle it differently, and that's what's beautiful about the way God created each of us uniquely. 

Here are a few things you can pray with us in the months to come:

• Our birth mother, M. We pray that her heart is being shepherded for what is coming in the next couple months. We pray she knows the Lord and sees Him in this entire process.
• Our family as we prepare to bring another baby home again. Pray that we will parent with grace and embrace this last set of holidays as the Dupuis 3. 
• Grace and mercy toward one another. So far, we have been communicative in how we are coping with the stress, fear, and doubt. Pray that that continues and that we will treat each other with kindness and understanding. Pray that we will be transparent with each other and share what is on our hearts and what is causing us both joy and fear.
• Anxiety and fear. Of course there is the fear that we will have to tell our son that we aren't bringing a baby home again, and that is a terrifying fear that keeps me awake some nights. Pray that we will cling to God's promise that He hasn't given us a spirit of fear, but one of power, and of love, and of a sound mind (2 Tim. 1:7). 

What We Need

Most of you know that we are big fans of He Reads Truth / She Reads Truth in Chez Doop. The current study is on The Presence of God, and as I was listening to the podcast this morning, one of the founders was talking about God's presence with the Israelites. She talked about how the Lord could have led them on a quicker path toward the Philistines, "Lest the people change their minds when they see war and return to Egypt" (Exodus 13:17 ESV). She went on to say that even though the Israelites thought they knew what they needed, the Lord knew what they actually needed. 

Welp, if that didn't hit me like a ton of bricks mid-run. How often we condemn the people of Israel - "The Lord delivered them from slavery, can't they just be grateful and do what he says?" "Can't they stop complaining about the food and just eat it?" "Can't they stop worshiping other gods and worship the one true God?" and so many other things - when we are just. like. them. We forget the great things God has done for us and aren't grateful for his deliverance from our old way of life. We don't obey him. We complain. We may not physically bow down to other gods, but our hearts are bent toward other things apart from Him. We think we know what we need but we really don't.

Our adoption has gone really quiet after a summer packed full of info summaries. It is so strange to hurry up and wait. Back in June I had to call my boss at A+ and say "Hey, I might be out of state all summer, so we need a backup plan in place." We Zoomed with a potential birth mother who ultimately chose another family, which meant no travel. We continued to get info summaries followed by "she chose another family" emails up until the week of school starting. I had to meet with my new principal before school started to say "Hey, we're showing again to a birth mother who has already delivered, so there's a real possibility I won't be here for the start of school." She chose another family, too. 

And it's been relatively quiet for the past month, which is weird this go round. Last week, I was feeling sorry for myself and the seeming silence during my quiet time. I felt very plainly the Spirit speaking to me and asking, "Do you REALLY think you could have handled a new baby on top of everything you faced in August?" [New school, opening school in the midst of the chaos of 2020, costly repairs to both vans, and the washing machine died - like they don't make the part anymore died - all in one month.] Immediately humbled, I answered no. I didn't know what was around the corner when we got all of those "she chose another family" emails, and I still don't know. However, I do know that the same God who saw the Israelites through the desert into the Promised Land is the same God who is fulfilling his promises for my family today. 

healing

There are times in our lives that are defining moments - graduations, weddings, deaths of loved ones, birth of our children, the list is endless. These times contain glimpses and memories that will likely stick with us forever - sights, sounds, smells from those days. I will remember standing by my high school best friend as we stood on the stage at graduation together and laughed as we waited for the last name to be called, the look on my wife's face when we saw each other for the first time on our wedding day, the sweet sound of singing "It Is Well" as my father-in-law breathed his last breath, the sound of my baby boy cooing as he was placed in my arms for the first time on his Gotcha Day. For better and for worse, these moments have defined my life.

I will also remember the long fingers and dark head of hair of another boy who was placed in my arms. He cooed and curled into my arms for hours as we got to know him, his birth mother, and her mother one Monday in May. I will also remember the phone ringing later that week and knowing in my soul by my wife's tone that this birth mother had decided to parent. I remember the sound of sobs as we sat and rocked together. I remember the determination in my wife's eyes as we moved the baby items to the shed. I remember our church family rallying around us with prayers, hugs, and support the next morning in our worship service. I will remember specific words that were spoken to me, faces from that day, songs that we sang.

I remember the dark place I went to in the weeks that followed. With my final class of grad school, a week of intense professional development, a family to care for, and various ministries at church, I felt there was no time to truly grieve. So I did what every good person with anxiety does - I faked it. I busied myself with work and with my tasks so I could avoid my feelings. Isn't a to-do list truly the best friend of someone with generalized anxiety disorder?

I threw myself into project after project. I kept telling myself I just had to face it and plow through. I went to our agency reunion. I said yes when asked to serve in the bed baby room at church because they needed someone. I threw myself into a training apprenticeship for an organization for whom I had long wanted to work. I began listening to Pride and Prejudice (the inspiration for baby B's name). I was stoic to a fault. I did, and I did, and I did. Meanwhile, I neglected my inner self. I told myself that I was taking medication and seeing my counselor, so I was fine. I had a revelation this week in which I realized that that is not enough, because I still have to work on me. I can't just expect to heal and become better if I do not put in work.

But then something changed. My wife and I took a small beach vacation alone. Just the two of us - no social media, no outside influences, just us. We listened to a good book, had very little agenda, spent hours just swimming in the waters that for so many years of my life I've said I hated, ate fresh seafood at every meal, and we just relaxed with each other. We took the time to just BE. Nothing else. In the act of being, we were able to heal and properly grieve. We had a conversation amongst the waves about how we needed this time to just relax, reconnect, and mend our broken hearts. We finally both got to a place where we are ready to move forward in our adoption journey.

This summer has been a defining moment in our family. We have grieved, we have grown, we have healed. And we are ready for what lies ahead. Not every day will be easy, but we are ready to face what lies ahead. We all have hurts, but I encourage you to find rest and heal your soul.

bittersweet

"You taught my feet to dance upon disappointment, and I will worship." One of my favorite lines from this song that we sang in church this morning. Today I probably did more weeping than actual singing, but I still will worship.

It's been a whirlwind week in our home. To summarize: get call that we were matched for adoption Saturday night, learn baby was born Sunday morning (a little more than 2 weeks early), meet birth mother Monday, begin mad baby prep all week, end the school year Friday, then get the call we selfishly never wanted Saturday night. We learned that the baby boy we were waiting for would not be coming to our home. 

This was a baby boy we had met, held in our arms, and named. A baby boy we had prayed for, told our older son about, and had received countless gifts for. And yet he would be returning to his birth mother's home and not joining our family. Literally hours before the period to withdraw the relinquishment of parental rights ended, this brave birth mother still chose to parent. 

My fleshly response was anger ("Why wait so long to choose this? Why tell me one thing to my face and then do something different?") instead of rejoicing and grace. As some of you know, this woman attempted a medically-aided abortion for this boy, BUT GOD! He sustained this life, and He obviously has big plans for this little life. Even if those plans don't happen while that boy lives in our home, it will still bring glory to God. And that is worth celebrating, because it is not about me anyway!

Through a providential situation, my mother in law was at the house when we got the call. She immediately began comforting both of us while also grieving with us. At one point she asked me what I needed her to do, and all I could do was respond, "I just need a hug," so we stood in the kitchen and cried and hugged. She then took our son to Chick-fil-A so Rebekah & I could move some baby items to the shed, grieve together, and eat. I had a good sob or ten. We were able to come to terms with what was behind us and what lies ahead of us. 

There has been a really bittersweet element to this entire week. Bitter in that what we had hoped for and believed for, and rejoiced for was not going to come to fruition when and how we expected. Bitter in that the nursery would once again be empty. Bitter in that we were oh so close to the finish line to be called for a false start, if you will. But sweet in that we have still been given such a platform to glorify God. Sweet in that we know this is a child who has life and will still be loved. Sweet in that I have truly experienced the love of our village. Every comment, text, message, and call has been much appreciated and has encouraged us. We even had a friend from church text Rebekah this morning that the Lord had woken her up in the middle of the night to pray for us - before she had read the news on social media! Just the faithfulness of this friend brought tears to my eyes. If that doesn't light your fire, then I hate to inform you that your wood is wet. 

I shared one of my favorite quotes from John Piper to my instagram this morning, and the entire context can be found here. His basic premise is that yes, we should grieve, but then we should wash our faces, and embrace what is before us. And that is indeed what I plan on doing. There may be times in the coming weeks when I will just cry, and that's ok. There may be times when I don't want to be around people for a short time, and that's ok too. But I will not let this event break me or shake my faith in God and his divine plan for our family. He is sovereign above all, and He is still on the throne. In the end, He wins. And that is all that matters. May He be praised forever. 

thanks

You know my name, my wife's name, our jobs. You've seen pictures of us, our day-to-day life, and our big, crazy family. You know how we handle and resolve conflict, our mindset on dating and what makes a marriage work. You've seen pictures of our son's nursery, pictures of our friends, and pictures of the church where we dedicated our son to the Lord when he was barely 6 weeks old. You know so many intimate details about our life that we compiled into our profile book. 

We know your name. We know the part of the country where you live. We know your medical background. We know how you describe yourself and your temperament. We know about the medical history of your family. We have not met in person, yet we share the most intimate bond imaginable. For you made the bravest choice possible and gave life to this little man who's snoozing away soundly across the hall as I write this, and in so doing, you helped bring about a family in this home. 

Birth mother, on this first Thanksgiving for my family of three, I am eternally grateful for you. Yes because you gave my wife & me a son, but for so much more than that. Thank you for looking outside of what was easy, convenient, or practical and choosing a selfless act of love instead. Thank you for honoring life and for giving this chubby-cheeked boy a life, hope, and a future. Thank you for giving me and my wife the family we have prayed for for years. I cannot imagine the difficulty of your choice and the thoughts that went through your mind. 

Today, as we hope to do each day, we honor you in our home. We speak with our 8-month-old openly about you and how brave, how selfless, and how bold you are. He has heard your name countless times. He has heard us pray for you by name. And I pray as he ages and especially as he approaches young adulthood, that he truly understands the impact of you on his life. We want him to know how much you have impacted his life, our lives, and the lives of generations to come with a single, selfless choice.

While we may not meet in the flesh any time in the near future, we pray that we meet on the other side of eternity. We pray for your relationship with Christ regularly, and we pray that we can share in the joy of being brothers and sisters in Christ with you. There are so many other things that I want to say, because "Thank you" just doesn't seem to be enough. But I do want you to know that we love you, we appreciate who you are, and we are always grateful for your love. 

choices

Do you ever consider the impact of a single choice on your life? And I mean truly think about the weight of how that choice could mold the rest of your life? I recently listened to a book (one which I wouldn't recommend) that looked at different versions of individuals' lives and how Version 1 of Person A's life intersecting with Version 3 of Person B's life could produce a completely different outcome than Version 2 intersected with the same Version 3. And that got my wheels spinning.

Something I don't often share is that I did not officially begin college at my alma mater. I spent the first 2.5 weeks of my college career at the rival school across town. It was essentially the antithesis of my high school experience and one I swore I didn't need repeated for the next 4 years of my life. Turns out, I was miserable and cried nearly every single day. I eventually was able to transfer to the college that helped mold me into who I am today.

I remember the day I went to buy my books at my new school. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon before a hurricane was about to blow in, and I pulled into the bookstore parking lot where I saw a high school classmate and close friend, who had no idea of my plans to transfer (remember, this was pre-facebook). She immediately began jumping around and yelling as she say my car. We hugged and laughed and cried and caught up briefly before I went to buy my books. When classes began after the storm, she introduced me to a friend of hers in our literature class who she had met during SGA activities. 

That mutual friend thought I was the biggest snob on the planet, and I thought she had no goals for her life. But I was drawn to her smile, her laugh, her zeal and passion for life. Over the next 7 years, a friendship developed into something more and we eventually could no longer be "just friends." I'm sure you can guess who that friend was. What if I hadn't transferred schools? I would have missed spending life with the one who God created specifically for me. I could have potentially missed a great deal of love, laughter, and some good eats. 

If you didn't know me before my wife and I were married, you are probably not aware of the other choice that impacted our life. In the early planning phases of our engagement, we originally wanted a long engagement and to be married in the late fall of 2012. But the stress and noise of wedding planning caused us to change our wedding plans to a small family ceremony in the spring. April 2012 to be exact.

If you remember the details of our adoption journey, you know that we were unable to file papers to adopt until our third anniversary. We filed them on that day; we had a great meal at home, spend the night in our pjs, and clicked submit to God's plan for our family that night. We spent the next 6 months in counseling, interviews, and home study before beginning the matching process in October 2015 (which would not have been our 3-year anniversary had we not moved the date of our wedding). We waited for 5 months which were at times excruciating and at times joyous as we savored the final days of "just us." And on our fourth anniversary, we received the summary of our little man that God had chosen for us. 

What if we hadn't chosen to change our wedding date? What if we weren't in the matching phase when our son's birth mother began to make her brave choice? I know that our son would have certainly been matched and placed with a loving family who would raise him to honor and serve God. I am not saying by any means that we are the supreme parents who have ultimately done some good deed. I am saying that God wove our story together in such an intricate way that even a choice such as the university I chose to attend or the date on which my wife and I chose to marry altered the course of my life, my family's life, and essentially generations to come.

Our God is in the details. As we sang in church this morning, He will not be delayed. He sets plans into motion and weaves together the threads of our stories in such major ways before we even realize that the loom is being threaded. Today, I am thankful for the day in 2004 that brought me to my knees and caused me to change what I thought was my plan for life. I am thankful for the day when I met that girl who thought I was a snob. I am thankful for the night we sat in her apartment and felt that tug on out hearts to change our plans to His plan. And I am thankful for every day with my family of 3. This is us, and I am thankful for us. 

a voice

There's a side to parenting that no one really discusses. Sure people talk about the poop and pee stains, the zombie-like state due to lack of sleep, and the film of powder that perpetually coats that corner of the kitchen counter where you store the formula. They tell you to make sure you communicate with your spouse, to shower the baby with love but not too much, and that you really do need to soak in every single moment because it all moves so quickly. But no one dares mention the soul-crushing anxiety that can encompass every waking moment if you let it.

As a type-A, OCD-diagnosed, perfectionist, have-to-do-it-myself type of person, fatherhood has been difficult at times. Don't get me wrong. It's filled with wonderful moments when he looks in my eyes and grins the gummiest, sweetest grin you've ever seen; when he coos so loudly when I sing to him my favorite vocalises (momma made me mash my m&ms, red leather/yellow leather, et al); and those blissful moments when I tell him I love him and he sinks even deeper into my arms. At that point, I know that I am doing at least one thing right. 

But then there are the moments when he literally will not stop screaming, despite the fact that his diaper is clean and his belly is full. There are the moments when you just want one moment for yourself in a slightly selfish way. There are times when you are so determined to be so over-the-top great and do-it-yourself that you do all the things and end up hurting your wife's feelings because she only sees herself as a warm body in the church routine. There are moments when your tunnel-visioned self literally cannot think of something as simple as standing up and walking to assuage the crying, and when your wife finally does that for you, you break down in sobs. It. is. so. hard. 

And then there's the issue of dealing with all of this. Yes, I take my me time to run almost every day while I train for my next half, but sometimes that just doesn't do the trick. I've always been one who struggled with voicing my feelings, but I could easily write about them. But lately, not only has it been hard to put my feelings into words, I've struggled with the way I am perceived. It seems that my intent is not always clear on my blog, and I have turned some people away. If that is true for you, then I am sincerely sorry; this is my voice, and it's the only one I know. 

Say what you will about millennials needing a safe space, but shouldn't everyone have somewhere where it's ok to speak your mind in a low-judgment arena? I don't claim to be an expert in parenting at all, or really in any area of my life, so the observations I've recorded have just been that - observations. I attempt to add humor to them to defer the anxiety, but then I wind up being misinterpreted and turning more people away. And this leads to more anxiety because I worry about how I'm going to get all these frustrations out {some of you are probably thinking a journal, right?} while still seeking some consolation that it's all going to be ok. It's a vicious cycle. 

And it has to end. Parents, we HAVE to stop burning each other at the stake for every transgression that we notice about each other - whether it's recorded on social media or not. Parenthood is tough enough as it is; we don't need to be at odds with each other over the way our babies are posed in a picture, the number of times we feed our babies, or whether or not we post about our babies on social media. Do we see what's happening here, y'all? We are missing out on our blessings because of adults who are acting like children, and we are experiencing more anxiety ourselves as a result. 

So here I am. An imperfect dad who struggles with the weight of this burden of raising a God-fearing son in our society. A man who loves his wife fiercely but doesn't always show it in a way that honors her. A friend who worries about the way his friends perceive his heart in all of this. An anxiety sufferer who hopes that at least one of you find comfort in these words. A child of God who prays that He receives the honor & glory in all things. 

color blind

Let me make something abundantly clear before this goes any further: I could not love my son any more. He is my pride and joy, and I will go to battle for him to the ends of the earth. If you've been in touch with me in the last few months, you know that my son doesn't look like me and never will. I couldn't be any more ok with that fact. Regardless of his looks or the color of his skin, he is and always will be my son. Plain and simple.

A lot has been said in the past few years especially about which lives matter and which do not. The reality of this situation is that I know my son will have a tougher go in some areas of life than I did, but I can still equip him to be a man of character, a man who loves the Lord and his family, and a man who is proud to wear this last name of his that will soon be official. People have asked me if we will tell him he's adopted, and I jokingly answer "well if he doesn't know, he may need to get his eyes checked." {Humor in uncomfortable situations is my coping mechanism du jour.} 

I've also been asked several times which race he will identify with. Part of our adoption education courses included a session on transracial adoption; we had always been open to the idea. But I guess I never really processed the depth of that question or the underlying sorrow. Because here's the reality y'all. He's a human, end of story. Why can't he identify as being a member of the human race? Why must we look at it through that lens so often in our society? Why can't we see this little brown baby as just a baby who brings his parents so much joy? Why do we have to label every single thing? 

I know, I know. In the age of social media outcries and political correctness, this can be a touchy subject. My son is a human who was created in the image of a perfect God. It doesn't matter if he had 11 toes or webbed feet; he would still be the perfect child God had planned for us. {PLEASE don't misread that as "He thinks his child is perfect," because I know he isn't.} If you see the color of my son's skin first before your recognize those beautiful lashes, those chubby cheeks, the big feet, or his infectious grin, then perhaps you need to check your own eyes and check your heart. The truth is, we are all humans. We can all use a little more love, mercy, and grace. And we can start treating each other a lot nicer too.


I also need to apologize / clear the air over a slight ruckus I created on the book o face yesterday in posting about our court date and inviting those who could to attend. We have been asked if we plan on sharing every picture from our journey, to which we responded that we couldn't for the sake of time {seriously, 3.5 months worth x 2 oversharing parents with camera phones = too many pictures to post}. There seems to be a misunderstanding that people deserve or have a right to what has been a very intimate time for us and for our families. 

Yes, we have been transparent about the adoption process and journey, partially because we feel society just doesn't have the proper education about it and we desire to be ambassadors of sorts. But we have been far from oversharers. We didn't share each time we got a birth mother summary, each mother who chose someone else and left us brokenhearted, the families we said no to simply because of the situation, leaving us absolutely broken. We haven't shared the nights we simply sat and cried in an empty nursery because of the weight of this journey. 

We have not and WILL NOT share the details of our son's journey home or his entry into the world and all that that entailed. That is his and his birth mother's story first and foremost. When he is old enough to comprehend, he will hear that from us; then he can share what he feels others need to know. While we are appreciative and grateful for those who have earnestly prayed for us daily, have donated of their time and resources for fundraisers, and have actually sent us messages of encouragement, no one has a right to this story except for Christ and the 3 people in this home. And if that's not ok with you in the age of oversharing, then perhaps you need to evaluate where you are in our life. We desire to honor Christ in our adoption, not get likes on Facebook. 

to our birth mother

Dear Birth Mother,
It's Mother's Day, and you are heavy on my heart today. I wonder what kind of emotions you are experiencing today, and in spite of the joy of this day, my heart breaks for you. You made the bravest choice you could make when you chose to place your baby with us as his forever family. Today my wife celebrates her first Mother's Day, and I rejoice in the joy of parenting with her. 

I only know your first name, I've never seen your face, & I've never heard your voice. Yet we share the most special of bonds in this little life the Lord has entrusted to us. But there are so many things I want to ask you, namely what do you want us to tell our son about you? I want to tell you that he is a long, lean snuggle bug who hates sleeping on his back and is adjusting to a swaddle after some time. 

Above all, I want to tell you that he is loved. He is fiercely loved by his parents, his grandparents, his aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and even strangers who've only seen him once. Everyone who meets him tells us how beautiful he is and how he looks so peaceful and happy. 

I want to tell you that he was dedicated to the Lord on this Mother's Day. We committed to raise him in a way that will show him Jesus from an early age and to be the Godly examples he needs. He is a precious gift who would not be in our lives were it not for you. 

We have prayed for you daily during our adoption process, and we continue to pray specific things over you by name today. It has been such an honor to pray for this little life & for your life as well - who you are becoming, your relationship with the Lord, your relationship with your family. 

Today, I pray that you realize how brave you are, that you are loved by your Heavenly Father, and I pray that your heart is full. I pray that you know how valuable you are to this family and. I pray that he never loses sight of the fact that your intense love for him gave him and us what we needed the most - each other. I pray that we can honor you in the choices we make. And I pray that you are at peace with a decision that had to be difficult beyond belief. 

 "I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord." - 1 Samuel 1: 27 - 28

marathon musings

Adoption is a lot like running a marathon. You complete questionairre after questionairre. You fund raise and fund raise. You pray and you pray. That's the training. 

And then you get a call that you've been chosen and have fewer than 72 hours to pack for multiple weeks worth of a stay out of state to pick up this baby that God has given to you. You hit the road for the agency several hours early in case you pass the turn (which you do) and your life changes in an instant when you lay eyes on this precious boy. That's getting to the starting line (especially if it's one of those bigguns with corrals and scattered starting times). 

And then you find out your state paperwork that has to be cleared for you to return home has been submitted earlier than you imagined and you think you'll be home in a couple of days. And your hopes escalate really quickly because you think of all the people you can introduce him to before you return to work. Pretty soon you look down at your watch and find you've run the 5K portion in 22:00. Oh. Crap. {Been there!} 

And then the phone doesn't ring. And the days pass. Your legs grow lethargic. You realize you've gone through 3/4 of your water pack and have one peanut butter pouch remaining before you hit the half marathon mark. So you cry. And you cry some more. You cry out to God to ease this pain and give you some rest. 

You trudge along and walk some because your legs literally cannot face the hills any longer. You realize your friends who have signed up for text updates won't be receiving them as frequently so you get anxious about that. And then you pray for God to move a mountain for you to go home and ease this mounting anxiety. This is miles 14-25, during which you think you will never sign up for another one {spoiler: you will sign up. Probably within weeks of finishing this one}.

And then you realize that you're only 1.3 miles (2K) from the finish line. So you wipe your eyes, blow a mean snot rocket over your shoulder, and you forge ahead. You realize that the time may not be the PR you had hoped for, but you sill accomplished something great. I see the finish line ahead. I'm trusting God to carry me there. 

"Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which Hod has called me heavenward in Christ Jeaus." - Philippians 3:13-14

reality

Well, y'all. This is it. Our last few hours of just the two of us. In fewer than 12 hours, we will officially be a party of 3. I get to meet my SON this afternoon! And of course, it's 3:00 am, and I am wide awake with anticipation. So I do what any normal over-sharer does - go to the nursery and blog while praying my phone restore will cause it to suddenly be able to find a signal. {Update: It worked. Hallelu! Can you imagine me without a GPS?} This is real life.

Let me rewind this. At the end of October, our profile went live, and then the reality and fear of waiting set in. No after no after no. But then God. While on our way to celebrate our 4th anniversary (which was exactly a year from the day on which we began this journey), we received an info summary on a birth mother. R was reading the information to me as I drove, and as soon as we got to dinner, I prayed over us before we got out of the car. I felt God stirring in my soul, asking, "Do you trust me completely?" After further prayer & discussion, we agreed to show our profile. Looking back, I realize that I was not as anxious in the waiting with this particular birth mother as I had been in the past. 

Fast forward through the weekend to a Monday that started like any other in which the calendar in the kitchen was chocked full of events. I had gotten home from work and was putting away dishes when my phone rang, and it was R. At first her words of "It's us!" confused me, since she was babysitting, and I had a thought that she was calling me with the kids in the background to sing or something (don't ask - I have no justification for this thought process now). When I asked what she meant, she simply replied, "She chose US!" Cue tears upon tears upon tears. Picture D in his fat pants, sliding down the wall rejoicing that our prayers were being answered. Driving to family dinner, I began calling my inner circle & sending frantic "please call me when you can" texts (at red lights of course, because safety) to follow-up the voicemails that followed the missed calls. My favorite reaction was one of our dearest friends whose voice got higher and higher with each word she spoke/screamed. It was truly fantastic.

We had to keep the news under wraps for a short time and could only tell the people who had to know - our families, close friends who had been praying with us earnestly, our supervisors at work. While I wanted to shout from the rooftops our good news, I knew that I could not because of the legal process. We began receiving more information from our social worker & making our plans to travel out of state. I am grateful for an awesome school district who granted me a mini baby leave for travel, bonding, & settling. I am thankful for administrators who have loved on us & who held candid conversations about the gospel with me that really did my heart good. I am thankful for my wife's school who will allow her to return to the classroom in the fall.

In the past 60 hours, our washer has seen more cycles of sanitize than in the entire 7 years it's been used. We've run errands and met up with friends who had goodies for us. We've packed and overpacked - and shockingly enough, edited some of the packed items. We've written our final payment check to the adoption agency (#debtfree). We've received an overflow of love and support from our friends and family - sentimental books with inscriptions that made me cry, bottles from friends who had plenty and knew we only had 5, diapers and wipes, onesies that are so cute I just squeal when I look at them, money to help with travel expenses as we will be out of state for a time, prayers, prayers, prayers, shoulders to lean on, and so much more. We've gotten car seats installed (spoiler alert - neither as easy as it looks nor as complicated as it was in the '80s). We've packed our diaper bags, which may or may not have caused a mini-meltdown on my behalf ("I have no idea what I'm doing, and storing things in nooks & crannies is my thing!"). Oddly, we haven't cleaned the house or ironed, two of my favorite chores; I have already said I wouldn't be ashamed or offended to pass these off to anyone who offered. 

We have rejoiced over God's goodness, his provision, & his timing. Guys, we shouldn't be able to adopt debt free. But God. Every single time we needed funds, he provided. Every single time we needed comfort after a broken experience, he sent a reminder of his love for us. Every time I've gotten outside of my head and stopped listening to his heart, he has brought peace. He provided a child within a year of our filing date - an anomaly in the adoption world. 

He provided so many reminders of the perfection of his timing. We received information on this baby on our anniversary. We celebrated the traditional anniversary gift of fruit by planting an apple tree in the backyard over spring break. We later discovered that we planted it ON our baby's birth day and were basically making the final purchase when he was born. I get chills every time I think of that and the way God sent a reminder that he is faithful to fulfill his promises to us.

There are so many details I want to share with you all, but I cannot at this time. When he is officially ours in our home state, know that your news feeds will be blown up with pictures and stories of this precious gift (someone remind me I used that phrase when I'm covered in puke & cleaning up a blowout diaper!). Here are some specific things you can join with us in prayer over: 1. That our ICPC packet will clear before Friday, 4/22, so that we can all return home together as a family of 3. 2. Safe travels for us today and for my in-laws as they bring the camper for us to stay in. 3. Restful time of bonding with our baby & adjust to life as the three of us. 

I cannot wait to see where God takes this little one & the way that he has received & will continue to receive all the glory. May the decisions we make and the way we raise our son be indicative of his love for us & the way that he chose to adopt us into HIS family. Friends, this has been a crazy ride, but I have a feeling that that was just the first loop around the track. Thank you for your support & prayer. And thank you for reading the random ramblings from my heart.

grateful

It's been a month to the day since our profile has "officially" been released for viewing. Y'all, this is tough. We've spent so much time in prayer over this birth mother that will choose us and this precious baby that will one day be ours. We have entrusted our hearts and our plans to God, but nothing can really prepare you for the waiting. The waiting has indeed been blessed, as we've gotten to do things that are "just" us. But it's also really really - really - tough. 

It's difficult to actually put that faith and trust into action. It's tough knowing that with the holidays approaching, we will be faced with numerous questions of, "When are we getting a baby?" and having to answer, "We have no idea." It's tough being Captain Type-A and not being able to plan even the next month because of the unknown. It's tough being told that this birth mother was a no. It's trying to pretend to keep it all together. And maybe I don't have to have it all together. I don't have to have all of the answers. Sometimes it's tough to admit that.

I was telling one of my dearest friends about the latest "no" we received, and he quickly reminded me of all of the things I have to be grateful for: a home with space for this baby, a wife who loves Jesus first and foremost, jobs with which we can support this baby, a close-knit group of friends who will support us on this journey, the sheer amount of fundraising we've been able to do in the past 15 months. He reminded me of Psalm 126:3, "The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy." Woah - that one hit me right in the teeth. 

You see, I have so very much for which to be grateful - the fact that two birth mothers have chosen life in their circumstances; the greatest support system I could even dream of; a social worker who prays for us daily and updates us constantly of the progress; the sheer number of people who have invested their finances, time, and prayers into us; a nursery that we could literally use tonight if we had to. I could go on for days of the things for which I am grateful within our adoption.

Outside of our adoption, my list is just as long. I am grateful for truly the greatest school district in the country, a group of coworkers there who have my back in all things and can't wait to meet the newest member of our little math-nerd family, the same scenario in my wife's school, two families who love us and our future child beyond my wildest imagination, friends who speak truth into my life when I need it the most, a God who blesses me beyond what I deserve. And I am thankful that each "no" is just a stepping stone on the path to His best "yes." Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

silly shonda

Dearest Shonda Rhimes,

Last night, you lost a fan. And not just a fan but a super fan. A fan who had seen every single episode of Scandal and could hold a rousing discussion on the merits of this move by Olivia over that move. A fan who begged for the return of Jake as Olivia's man over Fitz. A fan who remembers watching the very first episode (which was so poorly shot and wardrobed by comparison) in the hotel room with his dad the night before his own wedding. A fan who would binge watch old episodes just for fun. A fan who is currently writing this blog from the future nursery of the baby that he and his wife have prayed for fervently for years and are currently waiting to adopt. And he has had enough.

You see, I sat by for too long without speaking out about the atrocities of some of the content of his beloved show because I just wanted to keep up with the times and be able to have those aforementioned conversations with my friends and family members. I endured the torrid love affairs of famous-fixer-Olivia on a weekly basis. I stood by and watched as all the characters seemed to show no evidence of possessing a moral compass. I cheered every time Papa Pope's plans were foiled. I acted as if these characters were real people whom I knew - and that's probably going too far on my behalf. All in the name of entertainment. And for that, I only have myself to blame. 

I stayed up late (an accomplishment in itself) for the touted winter finale. I enjoyed my Thursday ironing rituals as I prepared myself for what was surely to be a life-changing episode. And truth be told, it did change my life. But not in the way that I expected. I sat on the couch beside my wife who has been tirelessly working her book business to help raise funds to bring home this baby we have been praying and dreaming of. And then the unthinkable happened. I mean, we all know that you are always on the forefront of the social issues of the day, so I guess it really isn't that unthinkable. 

As Mellie filibustered for days and days just to keep her Planned Parenthood funding around (and let's be honest, I didn't need another reason to despise her fried-chicken-eating crazy self), I never dreamed you would take your stance one step further. What happened in that doctor's office sickened me to a new level. I instantly felt my face flush and my blood pressure rise. In that instant, Olivia Pope became a statistic - joining more 700,000 US women who have not chosen life (latest statistics only are available through 2011). Edited to add: Black women are nearly 4 times as likely (they make up 13% of the population, yet account for 37% of all abortions) to abort than non-hispanic white women. Considering the fact that many young girls, especially African-American  ones, view Olivia as a role model, this is particularly troubling. And my lovely wife grabbed the remote, pressed stop, and then erased the recording. 

You see, we drew a line in the sand last night. I can't continue to support something that sickens me to the core all in the name of entertainment. How convenient for you to choose to promote how lives matter when you wanted to pull from the police-shoot-innocent-boy headlines. But strange how this unborn child didn't matter enough to warrant a chance to become something. Shonda, you are indeed a gifted storyteller, and I can only imagine the great story you would've woven from this birth - fast forward 30 years and imagine what he or she really could've done for the world. But nope, that wouldn't have advanced your leftist agenda. And heaven surely forbid we don't provide these contraceptive services to women "in need." And let's be honest, as wealthy as Olivia is, she could have afforded some good birth control (it's the only way this hasn't happened in the first 4.5 seasons as much as she gets around). 

When you go through the trials of infertility, any one who would willingly end the life of a child instantly affects you. You think of all the things you could have said to her to change her mind. You wonder if you could have done anything at all to influence her decision. When you are waiting to be chosen by a birth mother, these feelings are amplified. I can't help but think of what a fantastic story adoption would have made. Why didn't that become an option (since apparently Olivia actually birthing the President's baby wasn't even on the table)? Abby has really gotten her life together (in my oh so humble opinion) and would have made a fantastic mother. Or some random couple from somewhere in America - not even a series regular. Adoption paints such a beautiful portrait of the Gospel and redemption in Christ. It isn't a "final" option or last resort, but it should have been the only option in this case. Life matters. From conception to death. End of story. 

You see, Shonda, had you chosen to weave in an adoption story, you would have had at least 2 even-more-devoted fans in this household. We would have shouted your praises from the rooftops and pointed to the ways that adoption is finally becoming part of the mainstream conversation. (And don't try to use Cyrus and James' adoption so many seasons ago as a valid reason of your doing that. It was merely convenient for you considering their status and circumstance.) In no way am I trying to vilify or indemnify you. I just want to express my deep hurt over this choice. In any way was it necessary? Did it move the plot (that has been centered on Olitz for far-too-long anyway, while we're at it) forward in any way? My answer is certainly and unequivocally no. And I am sad to say, my obsession with Scandal has ended. But hey, at least I can go to bed earlier on Thursdays now.

Sincerely,
Future Father

we wait

I remember the day we told our pastor we had just filed our adoption papers and that he should be expecting a reference request from the agency. He quickly responded, "Air out your issues now, because a baby will quickly change that" as he prayed for us. In all honesty, I thought it was that generic marriage advice that everyone gives you right before you marry ("never go to bed angry," "communicate," "love each other," etc. etc. etc.). Standing on the other side of the filing, I can say he was spot on and his advice was far from generic. RAHD and I have always thought we had a strong relationship - we are honest with each other, we spend time with each other, and we are in general a good team.

Wow, were we jaded. If you truly want to test the strength of your marriage, try adding a few life changes to the mix. Might I suggest a few of the following - leaving a job, starting a new job, working to promote in an independent consulting business, adopting a baby. Let's compound all of this into a 6-month period. Seriously, this has been our life since April. No wonder we were recommended for counseling as we entered this adoption process.

If you've followed the journey on fb, you know that we spent the majority of the summer not in the home study interviews but on marriage counseling. I'm not gonna lie - I HATED the idea of our needing it at first. Maybe it was my pride stepping in the way of what needed to be done for our relationship. I almost felt vindicated in my beliefs when our friends were shocked that we had to enter counseling. But how much do they really know aside from the high points we share on the social medias? Please don't take this as an outcry for more honesty in the things we share on facebook, instagram, and the like - it's more of a plea to be honest with ourselves, y'all. We have GOT to stop believing that the things we post (a) validate us, (b) make us better than someone else on our friend list, and (c) are the only truth about our lives. {Is it possible to step on your own toes, because I'm pretty sure I just did?}

We were paired with the most fantastic counselor this summer who walked us through what attachment looks like in secure versus insecure adults, the need for more communication within our marriage, and our own issues with avoidance. She challenged us to work on our relationship and really pour into each other. I mean, if we are preparing to welcome a child into our home and if we are already empty, there is no way we could effectively pour into this child and raise him the right way. Two months - a lot of homework and prayer, and more tissues than I can count - later, we were given the clearing to formally enter the home study process. We are eternally grateful for an agency who believes in the strength of marriage while also preparing families for adoption. 

The home study process for us actually lasted about 10-12 weeks from the first home visit to the final interview. We answered question after question about our lives and backgrounds, our feelings on birth parent ministry and trans-racial adoption, and attachment and relationships. Because of all our counseling work over the summer, the questions were truthfully not overwhelming since we had already discussed most of them and needed to put our answers in writing. After our third interview, we were told to begin working on our profile book (what a friend of mine referred to, fittingly, as the "parent catalog") to show to birth mothers. Observations: compartmentalizing your life into "about me," "marriage," "home," and "nursery plans" while being mindful of choosing the "right" pictures and speaking of yourself exclusively in third person is exhausting. And a tad bit weird. {Real talk moment here - we fought over this book. And not just over things like fonts and backgrounds. We had a major argument over my own stubbornness and starting the book without seeking help. I was prideful in my own digital scrapbooking abilities if we're being real, and I didn't want to ask for help or seek assistance on a book that is to represent our marriage and our life - ouch. After some tears and some time to vent into my journal, we came together to work on the book and were able to complete it and send it to our social worker for approval.} She made some suggestions about which photo would be best on the cover, an appropriate ending, and other things to make it better. We finally settled on an appropriate cover photo that was actually the very first wedding photo we saw from our photographer's first round of edits. God is in the details. Our social worker said over and over "I saw you and heard you throughout this book," which is exactly what we wanted. 

Our final interview was yesterday, and we actually had a chance to speak with our counselor from this summer and catch her up on what God is doing in our marriage and in our adoption. It was such a sweet reunion. In our interview, we talked about what the process will look like from here, and frankly, it is a lot of waiting. And I mean a lot. We will wait an additional 2-3 weeks for our home study document to be finalized and approved before our profile book can be shown to potential birth mothers. Then we wait for her to read several profiles at one time before choosing. And we wait to hear from our social worker on a yes or a no. And we wait for another round of viewing if it's a no. And we wait for delivery if it's a yes. And we wait for relinquishment of rights. And we wait for ICPC clearance if it's an out-of-state birth mother. And we wait for adoption day at the agency where we sign papers and get legal documents. And we wait for our day in court when we will stand before a judge with our family there, promising to care for this child. 

And we wait for this child to have his first tooth, his first day of school, his first friend, his first heartbreak, and so many other milestones. We wait for the first time we hold this precious gift. There is peace in the waiting. As our social worker prayed over us at the end of our interview, she prayed "bless the waiting," and it hit me {as I wept for the umpteenth time on that couch} that this doesn't have to be a stressful time. This is a time for RAHD and I to savor each other and enjoy the things about each other than make us tic. This is a time for us to pray evermore for our birth mother and future child. So many of you have bathed us in prayer, and we can never adequately express our gratitude to you. 

Several people have asked for specific things to pray, so here it goes. Pray that God uses this time to teach us about himself and about each other, that we would savor the last of our "just us" days, and that we would earnestly seek his will when we view information on a potential birth mother. Pray that all of the birth mothers who read our profile are affirmed in their decision to choose life. Pray for the safety of our birth mother and child, for openness and peace, for her future - her goals and dreams, her family - her salvation, her strong support system, and that she be in the right place at the right time. Above all, pray that God be glorified in every step of this journey. Thank you for all you've done and continue to do for us. We love each of you. 

renewal

Y'all, it's been 6 weeks since I last blogged. My, how different our lives looked then - sleeping in, running at a leisurely pace, watching The Golden Girls with breakfast. Then - BAM - back to school hits. When both you and your spouse are teachers, back to school season tends to look like this. Early mornings, exhausted nights, breakfasts eaten in a hurry, in bed before 8:30 (who am I kidding, we did that during the summer too). 
There's certainly very little free time to read - much less time to blog about what I've read. I'm in a new school district these days, and my car rides to work might last 10 minutes, so an audiobook would be not really be worth my time lately. Most of my reading time has been in the early morning hours on a weekend in which I inexplicably could not sleep in. In that time, I actually managed to finish Harry Potter & the Half-Blood Prince. Every thing that could be said about the magnificent series has already been said, so I will not blog about that one except to say, even on a re-read, that Jo manages to grab hold of me and make me think. 
In the weeks since school has started, I have stretched myself and grown beyond my wildest dreams. I have found an incredible set of colleagues who have quickly taken me under their wings and treated me like family. I have gone to dinner with my math nerds by myself - as in, no RAHD. I have connected with my students and fallen back in love with what I do. I have begun getting my students out of their seats (ground breaking, I know) on a regular basis and helped them become owners of their own learning. They have really responded well to the things I've tried. This has been so out of the norm for me, but I have grown a lot in changing the way I do things in my classroom. 
We are still working through the home study portion of our adoption, and as of this week, that portion will be 3/4 completed. We've had to answer questions about how we will attach to a child who may not be biologically ours as well as think about how we will respond to development delays that could be caused by substance abuse. Can we say overwhelming? But these are things that every parent must consider, and it is not something that should be entered into lightly.
In the mean time, I've run two half marathons in the past two weeks. The first was the Area 13.1 Half Marathon in Roswell, GA. The basic premise of this race was to outrun an alien invasion, so the gun time was 7:00 pm - very atypical for me and my training style. I knew fueling would be something I would have to carefully consider moreso than in other races, since I would have to eat a meal before. I thought a bread bowl of soup a couple hours in advance would be ok. Boy, was I wrong. Running on a full stomach - especially a half  - will not be counted as one of my greatest life decisions. I spent most of the race searching for a portapotty and turned in my worst half time to date - as in 2:18:20. Lesson learned - night races just aren't for me. But on the plus side, we got to have a small getaway together and loved our Hyatt Place hotel - seriously, if you are near Atlanta, check them out.

I mean, how cool is this suite area? Totally worth every penny.

This was an interesting race experience to say the least. Thankful for my #1 fan, but wow, I would not run this one again. Plus side: the alien head medal glows in the dark. A little freaky sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, but it's super cool!

My most recent race was Labor Day weekend in the big city of Tupelo, MS. The Tupelo Marathon is unique in so many ways - 5:00 am gun time, total field of 700 between the half and full, and an ending inside the local arena. Sometimes, we as runners have those days when every single thing seems to go right. September 6 was that day for me. I slept pretty well for a hotel stay, awoke refreshed, had only my banana to eat this time, followed all "cleansing" rituals to a t, and enjoyed absolutely perfect pre-dawn weather - low 70s at gun time.

My boo & me right before gun time. How much fun is this Hippie Runner headband? There are options galore and if you use my link, you get a discount & I get loyalty points! I'm a bit of a headband snob, and this one stayed in place for the entire race and didn't slip at all while keeping my mop of hair back. You will want to expand your collection once you start to shop. 

I was feeling it during this race - I was cutting a sub-9:00 mile and had already passed 7 miles at the 1:00 mark. I only had a minor issue at one aid station when a volunteer didn't see me and I didn't get to take some water at that one - and I wasn't about to break stride when I was just feeling the potential for a race like this. The Tupelo course is simply stunning - rolling hills through historic neighborhoods and flatter sections through the business district of town. Near mile 11, I had to slow my pace a bit and do my Oprah Winfrey power walk

for about 2/10 of a mile before getting back to pace - but even then, my pace stayed well below 10:00/mile. I was nearing the arena when my watch was showing a 1:58:00 time (in all honesty, I just wanted a sub-2:00), so I was getting excited. The finish chute may be my favorite part, because I always keep just enough in my tank to sprint the end (poo poo on those who say this isn't good etiquette; it's just plain fun!). I crossed the finish line at 1:58:35, a new PR by 5 seconds! I was ecstatic after the tumultuous last two weeks of training. When we got home, I looked at the results and found out that I actually won my age division. Me, former Beefy T XXL boy, managed to beat other people under the age of 30 to capture the division! I didn't stay for awards, because never in my life have I even come close to winning. I've emailed the race director in hopes that they can ship my award - even if it's just an ink pen, dadgummit - to me. Tupelo is a fantastic race, and it is one I would do again in a heartbeat. Here's to moving to a new age division next year and maybe impressing myself a bit more.

And we're off! There's something weirdly refreshing about running before the sun comes up and watching it illuminate the day as the race progresses.

Almost there!

Final push!

Hands up for a great finish line photo, y'all! PR praise hands!

How cool is this medal?? It's a bottle opener on the bottom. Though I have no idea for what I would use that. ;)

it's all about you

     Some times, God can use the seemingly darkest times in your life to either bring glory to his name or to show you a truth you've been needing to learn. I've been struggling with my anxiety a great deal these past few months. I've written in my journal a lot, I've talked to counselors, I've run my chubby little legs off, I've scrubbed the house clean from top to bottom, I've ironed mountains of clothes, I've lost myself in the world of books, I've organized and reorganized my planners. While some of these are outlets that are necessary to keep my sanity, some of them are simply escape tactics - things I'm doing to avoid the issue at hand. 
     You see, I've had a lot of doubt about being good enough lately - a good enough son, husband, teacher, friend, runner, person in general. I worry so much about whether or not I'm doing what I need to in my marriage to strengthen it before we really get into the home study portion of our adoption. I then find myself closed off from my wife simply because I'm so afraid of saying that one thing that will send things toppling into the abyss. It has gotten to the point of borderline depression these past few days - affecting everything from my brain function to my runs that I cut short simply from lethargy. 
     I was so consumed with this fear and doubt last night that I could do nothing but cry as I tried to fall asleep. I then began experiencing more anxiety about seeing people - not anyone in particular, just people - at church. My thought process was "These people are going to ask how I'm doing, and I'm not doing fine. (Sidebar: If being a "readable" person were an Olympic event, I would be a gold medalist. I can't hide my emotions if I tried!) They're not going to have time to listen to my drama nor do they care." Do you see how asinine this thinking pattern was? I was telling myself that I couldn't even go to church for comfort from what was eating me alive. That makes zero point zero sense. If I can't go to God's house and be comforted by fellow believers, where can I go? I realized this morning that all of this was just Satan trying to get me down so I would stay home today, but I'm glad I didn't.
     After the first song ended, I heard plainly in my spirit, "It's not about you." Well if that didn't just hit me like a ton of bricks. Here I was consumed - literally consumed to the point of only thinking about this one thing - with my problem that I couldn't even see past what was right in front of me. In our most recent counseling session for our adoption, I learned that my attachment style would be classified as avoidant-dismissive, meaning I'm typically closed off from others, self-sufficient, and lack genuine emotional connection with others. The good news is, God's not through with me yet and I can work toward becoming a more secure adult by giving care, receiving care, negotiating my needs, and remaining autonomous (pretty sure I have the first and last one down pat!). As I sat on the counselor's couch, I began weeping because for the first time in this entire process I realized my purpose. I, just like all of you, am a broken individual. Our precious baby who we pray for every day will be a broken individual who will need a father to lead him from brokenness and show him exactly what secure looks like. It's as if I finally realized that my brokenness had a purpose. It was a true breakthrough. Now, I realize that even when I reach that point of security, I won't always be 100% on all points of it, but I know what it looks like and what I need to do to get there. None of this is about me. My insecurities, my anxiety, my selfish desires. It's all about Christ and showing His love and mercy to those around us.  
     Since my moment in church I've been singing a precious song I remember singing in chapel band in high school called "Jesus, Lover of My Soul." It's not the popular Hillsong version, but instead has a verse that says "It's all about you, Jesus. And all this is for you, for your glory and your fame. It's not about me, as if you should do things my way. You alone are God, and I surrender to your ways." It's a beautiful song that we actually recorded as part of our album we put out that year (Gosh we were so daggum cool!), and I was hoping to find my copy of it to share but couldn't. You can instead click here to listen to it on YouTube...apologies that I couldn't find a video recording and had to settle on this lovely lyric video. I pray that every day I keep this song playing in my heart, because it's truly not about me.