The Power of Rest and other Thoughts

Here's my view on this gorgeous fall afternoon.

 It's Thomas Circle in Washington, DC.  Andy had to come here for business and I got to tag along. Someone asked me what I would do all afternoon while he's in a meeting.  Maybe I should have come up with something important, but the truth is, I am going to sleep. And read. And write.  Three things I love to do that I don't get to do very much in real life. 

I'm a true introvert at heart.  You might not know that when you meet me because I love people and can easily interact and talk and get along with most anyone.  I'm not afraid to meet new people or walk into a room where I don't know anyone (although it's definitely not my favorite thing to do).  But after a lot of socializing, I crave time alone.  Time to read, sleep, write. Or even just clean while it's quiet.  And my house is usually far from quiet.  When the kids are there, they are ALL there.  We don't really do a lot of sports or playdates or activities so they're home a lot.  Asking for help with a math problem, squabbling over who took the last granola bar, pulling out the play-dough (joy of all joys).

 I've been thinking about rest lately and how I'm not very good at it.  I have a suspicion that few of us are.  For some reason our society has put a premium on busyness, or at least on the appearance of busyness.  We feel guilty if we aren't producing, cleaning, working, moving, or doing something.

Is it because there is no outcome for rest?  No product to show?  No proof of our value?  

And yet, God rested. He made it a value and built it into his schedule.  Genesis 2:2  says, "God had finished His work of creation so He rested from all His work."  God valued work. And God valued rest.  As someone recently pointed out, He created humans on the sixth day, and rested on the seventh day.  So Adam and Eve's first real day alive was spent in rest with God. 

What a beautiful picture this is!  A day of rest with their Creator in paradise.  If it were me I'd be sipping a cool drink next to a large body of water, but they were probably walking the Garden, discovering and tasting and drinking it all in.  We know that God made it a habit of walking in the Garden during the "cool evening breezes" (Genesis 3:8), so I'm sure God was right there with them, enjoying the fruit of His labor, maybe excitedly pointing out everything He'd dreamed up for them.  Yes, God valued rest and unashamedly and intentionally took the time for it.

I believe it's important to be intentional too.  It's important to look at our weeks and schedule both our work and our rest.  For me, that includes time with my husband, time with my kids, and time for myself.  This doesn't happen by accident.  If I'm not intentional, I will spend all the minutes of my day on mundane and trivial things and wonder where my time went. 

As a couple, we have to schedule our date nights or else they just won't happen.  A couple years ago we also decided to set aside Tuesday nights after the kids go to bed to sit on the couch, debrief the issues in our lives, and pray together.  Sometimes we will linger at the dinner table after the kids go off and play so that we can just have time to catch up on what happened during the day. 

I have to consciously set aside my laundry and crumbs on the floor and go outside and play with the kids, to enter their world for awhile.  Sometimes I schedule a special outing with one of them so that we can have some one-on-one time.  Sometimes we plan intentional family nights - like banana splits and a movie - and put it on the calendar so that they can see it all week and look forward to it.

And now, I'm trying to get better at scheduling rest time for me, without feeling guilty for taking it.  Time to sit and read in the quiet, to journal and reflect and de-stress from the busyness of life.  I love writing and could write on this blog every day if I lived by myself.  Obviously I don't, so I have to carve out time to do it, because this is one thing that fills my soul.  Other times my "rest" is lunch or coffee with a friend.  I think rest can be anything that takes you away from your schedule and fills your soul.  We each need to figure out what that is, and then figure out how to build it into our schedule.

I realize I'm about to enter into a season where I'll have an enormous deficit of alone time.  Once S&A come home, I will have five kids.  FIVE.  Yikes!!  That's a whole lot more laundry, meals, and emotions to take care of.  It's going to be hard for me.  Honestly, it's something that I'm terrified about -- that I will be stressed and stretched and living on the edge of crazy town.  I have no clue how I will carve out time to rest in that season. And yet I also know how ineffective I'll be if I'm hanging on by a thread.  Somehow I will need to figure out how to build time into my day to fill my soul, so that I I can pour myself out to the ones who need me to be present for them.  This is such a journey!  One that I'm still learning how to walk with grace and trust. 

**A little adoption update because I know you want to know!  :)  
--We filed our PAIR paperwork with the USCIS on September 4th, and it was received and processed by September 13th!  That was amazingly fast!!  PAIR is a relatively new process adoptive families must go through.  "The U.S. government has worked closely with the government of Ethiopia to develop the Pre-Adoption Immigration Review (PAIR) process for Ethiopian adoptions.  PAIR will preserve and protect the valuable intercountry adoption program in Ethiopia by providing more safeguards to ensure the program’s integrity."  So basically it ensures that the child is truly an orphan and that the adoption is done with integrity.
--The U.S. Embassy in Ethiopia is now conducting the I-604 investigation, which will determine whether a child meets the definition of an orphan under U.S. immigration law. After this paperwork is completed, we will receive our PAIR letter.
--On October 6th, the courts are supposed to open up after being closed for the rainy season in Ethiopia.
--On October 7th, S&A's grandaunt has an appointment with the court.  She is their only known living relative, and was caring for them before they came to the orphanage.  She is 100 years old!  I hope we are able to meet her when we are there.
--At some point in the next 2-3 months, we should be assigned a court date!
--Our best guesstimate at this point is that we will travel before Christmas for our first trip, where we will be sworn into the Ethiopian courts as their parents.  They most likely will not be home until after Christmas.  But...as always with adoption, it could all move much more quickly, or much more slowly, than we expect.  I'm learning that I really have no control over any of this, so I might as well relinquish control and relax into trust.  

For all the fears we have, we are also ridiculously excited to see these two.  What a sweet reunion it will be!  We met S (our girl) when we were there last November.  Supposedly Andy interacted with A (our boy) but he doesn't remember it.  :) I can't wait to give them hugs and spend time with them and watch him play soccer and just soak up the time with them.  And then about 1-2 months after that, we'll make a second trip to bring them home!  It's all so surreal right now!  

Thanks for praying and partnering with us on this journey!

Power. Love. Hope.

A few days ago we had a brutally honest conversation with a friend who adopted teenagers nine months ago.  All along we've been trying to read books, ask hard questions, and be realistic about what adoption will look like in real life.  It's so easy to romanticize it.  But we want to prepare for the worst and then be surprised, rather than the other way around. But nothing could have prepared me for that phone call.  To respect their privacy, I can't share details, but I'll just say I got off the phone and sobbed.  I felt inadequate, overwhelmed, and scared to death.  Who do we think we are?  How did we think we could do this?  Why are we doing this?? 

Andy and I got on our knees and prayed.  It's all we knew to do.

The next day a friend sent me an email.  It is so profound that I want to share it with you.  I asked her for permission.

First, before we even became pregnant, if God had told me my kids would be sexually abused, my son would be psychiatrically hospitalized 3 times for wanting to kill himself and us at age 7, that he would push me down the steps, bite, kick, and spit on me, hurt his little sister, that we would have 2 long years of crisis where we were often afraid of our safety, that we'd be unable to do so many things that "normal" families do, that we'd have to hunker down and "miss out" on life, that I'd have a son with mental illness -- and so much more, I would've said: "Forget it God! I am not signing up for that!  We are not having kids!"  But I had NO idea!  He knew there was NO WAY we could handle knowing.  But He WENT BEFORE US.  HE KNEW. And He knew He'd be enough.  So what did He do?  He equipped us.  He led me to work with sexually abused children and emotionally disturbed kids.  He had me learn the warning signs of sexual abuse, hospitalize a suicidal 7 year old at the VERY SAME hospital my son went to, He had me spit on and kicked by kids, and I learned to physically restrain, to stay calm in these situations, to TRUST Him and cry out when I had no idea what I was doing.  He trained me - us- to do exactly what we needed to know.  He taught me most of all to lean on Him and trust Him to take over when I couldn't do it.

Katie, I am writing this with tears in my eyes.  I look at what I just wrote and I cannot believe that I am writing about MY life.  I look back and all I see is SUPERNATURAL PEACE.  Peace I have never experienced in my life.  God was never more real or more present.  God was there - He went before us.  He brought my husband and I closer than ever.  And yes, we are in a pretty darn good place right now.  I just called you the other day for advice for my son about SOCIAL issues.  WOW.  That's my biggest concern for him right now - a "normal" kid thing.  But This is not the end. I do not know what's in store.  Maybe it will be my daughter in the future.  But I DO NOT WANT TO KNOW.  Because, honestly, I would probably bail.  But, I know He has gone before us.  He's already there.  And He is training us right now in ways I have no idea about.  I just need to follow Him everyday and trust that He will be there.  Do you know what I heard and hear more than anything else from people who know our story?  "You are the perfect parents for your kids".  Do I feel that way?  No.  But I know they are right.  God created us and trained us perfectly for these very trials.   And all the while He never left us for a second.

So I look at you guys.  You do not know what is coming.  If you knew you may have run from the whole thing.  But you don't know.  What you DO know is this is what God has called you to do.  You do know He has equipped you with exactly what you need.  When Andy Thompson and Katie McCoy were being formed He knew this would be your life.  He went ahead of you and your life has been a training ground for THIS VERY task- HUGE task- He is giving you.  You do know He will be there and will give you supernatural power and peace.  And you do know He will not give you more than you can handle.  When the time comes, you will see all of your tools being used in ways you could never imagine.  YOU TWO ARE THE PERFECT PARENTS FOR S and A.  I know that already.  I see the community you have, the support, and praise God that He has that in place already.  You can see that.  Some tools He has given you are obvious, like that, and others you won't know until you are in the moment.  One thing already that is so God is that you had that conversation yesterday while the kids are ALL at school.  You can focus on Him and process and pray and just think.  Imagine that conversation a week ago when they were home.  GOD's GRACE right there.

I don't know what's in store for you guys but I do know He is there waiting. And you are willing.  That's all you need.  That's what He wants.

I have chills reading that again. 

This morning I came downstairs early to read my Bible.  I opened to Galatians, which I've been reading.  I am in chapter 4 and read this:

Galatians 4:4-7

 My life verse is Romans 8:15, and there it is, right there -- in Galatians 4:6.  Almost the same wording as in Romans.  This is so important that Paul wrote it almost verbatim in two of his letters.  This was Paul's life's work: proclaiming freedom and adoption!

Right now I am full of fear.  Scary fear, like my-life-is-over fear.  It could become all-consuming to the point that I am a slave to fear.  And I have been so focused on my fear that I have been forgetting who I am, and who God is.

Who I am:  I am a child of God. 

Who God is:  God parted seas and healed terminal diseases, tore curtains and raised the dead to life.  He is a God of Power!  He is also a God of Love, who parted heaven and earth to adopt me.  I am adopted!  If you believe in Jesus, you are adopted!  And compared to a holy and perfect God -- we are all the same -- slaves.  Rebellious, lost, and without hope.

But when the right time came, God sent Hope into the world.  And with one act of love, Jesus freed us from ourselves.  And at the moment of belief, God adopts us as His own children.

Life is hard.  It is so hard.  To be honest, there are days that I long for heaven.  But I am here, for this time, and for His purposes. 

I have no doubt that God has called us to adopt teenagers.  And so instead of focusing on myself and my own inadequacies for this task, I have to believe that He has the Power and the Love to do this with me.  He adopted an entire world!! I'm pretty sure He knows how to help me.  Every day I need to remind myself of Who He Is.  And trust.  Trust that He has been equipping us all along for this very thing. And keep trusting that He will be there every step of the way, and give me just what I need for each moment. 

Restore the Years

I feel this heavy cloud of sadness hanging over me right now.  It's like I'm in mourning and can't shake myself out of it.  It's weird though, because I'm mourning two children that I don't know.

When we first entertained the idea of adopting S&A, we thought S was 11 and A was 12.  Then we heard she was 14 and he was 16.  Then we heard no, maybe she's 13.  And then last week we find out that her official birth certificate records her age at 15 years 9 months.

I cannot stop thinking about all the years we have lost with them.  Years of memories.  Years of vacations, report cards, birthdays, holidays, milestones.  Yesterday Eva lost another tooth, and I couldn't help but wonder what it was like for S&A when they lost a tooth.  Was it exciting like it is for my kids?  Did anyone notice?  Did they throw the tooth away or save it?  I'm pretty sure there were no tooth fairy visits for them.  That makes me sad.  I'm sad that we missed out on that.

There are so many things we've missed.  What were they like as babies?  When did they learn to crawl, and who held their fingers as they took those first tentative steps?  What games did they like to play as toddlers?  Who took care of them, nurtured them, cheered them on, celebrated their successes and kissed their boo-boos?

I never in my wildest dreams thought we'd adopt a 16 and a 17 year old.  I mean come on, that is crazy.  Most people apply for babies and toddlers for this very reason --- all the years of nurturing and bonding stretch before you after the homecoming.  It might be hard at first for them to attach to you, but you have years to work that out.  I get that, and honestly, there are days that I want that too.  I'm jealous when I see pictures of adoptive families with little ones, or even older ones - 6, 7, 8 years old. Our kids' parents died when they were that age, and they moved into the orphanage shortly thereafter.  Some days I wish we could've come sooner, would've known sooner, had the chance to intercept their lives at that point instead of seven years later.

But that is my plan.  And God had other plans.  And sometimes God doesn't do what we think He should do.

A wise friend told Andy the other day, "With adoption, remember it's about the child. It's not about what's best for you.  What's best for them is loving them and giving them the opportunity for family."

Adoption is not about me, and what I want, what I think is best.  For reasons only known to Him, God has made it clear that this is the path He chose for our family.  This is what He thinks is best for us, and best for S&A.  The connections and confirmations in those early days are too numerous and too coincidental to suggest anything else.  I'm sad now, and know I need to let myself go through the mourning process. But at some point I need to pick myself up and move forward, in confidence, stepping into the obedience God has asked of us.

And the fact remains that whether these children are 6 or 16, they need a family.  They deserve to belong to someone.  To have five people who will always be there, always cheer for them, always celebrate their birthday, always comfort them when they're hurt.  And they'll always be our kids -- even when they're 40 and we're 60.  They'll always come home to us, to celebrate holidays, to bring the grandkids, to spend time with brothers and sisters.  They'll always be ours.

The prayer I've been praying lately is, "Restore the years the locusts have eaten, God."  The book of Joel in the Bible describes a terrible famine in the land of Judah, a result of a plague of locusts that devoured the crops.  Bible scholars are not sure if this is referring to actual locusts or if its symbolic imagery referring to an invading army.  Regardless, the people are devastated and broken, left with nothing, in despair.  The language is very strong --  "How the cattle moan! Even the flocks of sheep are suffering" (1:18),  "the priests are in mourning," (1:9), "the fields are ruined" (1:10), "the joy of mankind has withered away" (1:12).

But then later Joel begins prophesying about Judah's future: "The Lord will be jealous for His land and take pity on His people.  He sends you abundant autumn and spring rains, as before.  The threshing floors will be filled with grain; the vats will overflow with new wine and oil.

I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten .... and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you."  (Joel 2:23, 25, 26)

The Lord is jealous for these kids.  He sees two children who have no other family to take care of them.  Who are months away from aging out of the orphanage and being forced to make a life for themselves on the streets -- most likely turning to crime or prostitution.   God is jealous for them.  God sets the lonely in families.  God has marked them out for the Thompson family.  We have lost so many years with them, but I'm praying that God will make up for it, in the way that only God can.

Adoption is all about the child, but it's also all about God and the story He is writing, not just for the Thompsons, but for His entire family on earth.  He is jealous for all of us.  God also operates outside of our concept of space and time.  "With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.  The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness.  He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." 2 Peter 3:8-9  I've been so focused on the days we've missed out on that I am forgetting the very truth of God.

Days don't matter to him. People do.  He is waiting for us. He will not return until He's given everyone a chance to belong.   He is jealous for us.  He desperately wants us in His family.  He pursues each one of us with abandon. He fights for us.  Our past doesn't matter - what matters is the present - saying yes to Him now.  And as soon as we do, He promises to restore every moment we were apart from Him.  To heal and redeem and pay us back for the years we lost.  And He has eternity to do it.

I'm sad today, but I'm trusting.  I'm remembering promises.  And I'm looking forward to that day when they will belong to us, and we to them.  That will be a day for rejoicing.  The day when we praise God for what He's done, and look forward with anticipation to all that He is going to do.

Pray Very Earnestly

***If you're new here, let me explain a few things so that you will understand this post. Our family is in the process of adopting two kids from Ethiopia.  They are siblings and have been living in an orphanage for about 6-7 years.  Their parents are both dead and they have no family members who could take care of them.  They are also teenagers. To protect them, we need to refer to them as S&A.  A is the older sibling, S is his younger sister.  We began the process in March and turned in our completed home study in June.  Then we began to work on our dossier, hoping to turn that in to Ethiopia at the end of the summer.  If everything went smoothly, we were hoping to travel to Ethiopia in early spring 2015 and have them home by late spring.***

Last week we received a very unsettling phone call.  Our agency was able to obtain S's official birth certificate, and according to her birth date, she is actually 15 years, 9 months --- we believed she was around 13 or 14 years old.  We felt shocked, sad, and fearful.  As soon as she turns 16, she (and her brother) is no longer eligible for adoption, and the U.S. will not allow us to adopt either of them. We thought we had about 2 years to get everything completed --- turns out we have a little over 2 MONTHS.  Our agency said to get everything done on our end and be ready to travel to Ethiopia this August (!!) to appear in court to become their parents.

We kicked into high gear and finished all the paperwork for our agency.  We notarized all documents that needed it.  We contacted our references and asked them to get their letters notarized.  I went to our county's circuit court and then the Secretary of State in Annapolis to get documents certified for our dossier.  In 3 days we finished our dossier. Andy called our state senator and asked him to appeal to the USCIS (United States Customs and Immigration Services) to have our paperwork expedited.  We don't have time to sit on this.  We could lose them both.

But there's one thing that could hold everything up.  One important piece of paper and one person who refused to help us get it.  Andy carefully explained our situation, explained that if we waited the full 75 days (we were told that it would take that long to process) for this one document, it would be too late and S and A would both age out of the system and we would not be able to adopt them.  The answer we received yesterday -- NO.

So Andy called and left a detailed message.  And wrote another email, explained again. And now we wait for this man to decide our fate.  It's a completely helpless feeling.  It's frustrating.  We're exhausted. We've done everything we can do and it might not be enough.

Studies show that every 2.2 seconds, another orphan ages out, becoming too old to remain in foster or orphanage care, with no family and no place to call home.  60% of girls become prostitutes and 70% of boys become criminals.  We met some of these girls during our trip in November at a ministry called Women At Risk.  This is a program to help former prostitutes get off and stay off the streets by learning English and a trade to support themselves and their children.  The women we met were open-hearted and precious, some were as young as 16, and all had been working as prostitutes just weeks  or months before we met them. I can't even let myself imagine what life would be like for S&A if this adoption doesn't happen.  I can't go there.

Some of our friends from Women At Risk

This morning I woke early and came downstairs to read my Bible as I always do.  I'm reading through Acts right now and opened to Acts 12.  Peter, one of Jesus' close friends, has been arrested by King Herod Agrippa.  The king placed him under the guard of 4 squads of 4 soldiers each.  16 armed guards for 1 man, bound in chains.  

"But while Peter was in prison, the church prayed very earnestly for him."  Acts 12:5

This verse gripped me this morning.  Peter's case looks hopeless.  Believers are being persecuted.  James was just killed.  Peter has already been arrested once before.  Stephen was stoned to death.  Herod plans to put Peter on trial after the Passover holiday.  And he's being guarded by 16 trained-to-kill Roman soldiers.

"But the church prayed very earnestly for him."

There was no way out, but they prayed.  There was very little hope, but they prayed.  They couldn't imagine a good ending to this story, but they prayed.  

And God showed up.  Quite literally.  It's hard for us to even imagine this, but an angel appeared in Peter's prison cell and told him to get up, get his shoes on, and follow him.  (I may have forgotten to mention that Peter was chained to two guards at the time.)  "And the chains fell off his wrists. So Peter left the cell, following the angel."  Acts 12:7, 9  While the guards slept.

Could the church have imagined this outcome when they were praying earnestly?  I doubt it.  I'm sure they had no idea what to expect or how God would answer, or if God would answer.  

But they prayed earnestly anyways.  

Friends, I'm asking you to pray earnestly.  I have no idea what is going to happen.  I know prayer is not a formula.  {If I pray hard enough, then God will answer the way I want Him to.}  NO.  God doesn't operate like that.  Prayer is still a mystery to me. I don't fully understand it.  But I know I'm supposed to do it, with faith, and leave the outcome to Him. 

Our case looks hopeless.  We have two months to get our paperwork to Ethiopia, have it translated, get it filed with their courts and processed, and appear before a judge there.  We have 87 days until S turns 16 and is no longer adoptable.  This one document we need takes "75 days to process."  We have everything else for our dossier.  Mr. Jose from USCIS is refusing to expedite that one document we need.  

"God presides over heaven's court; He pronounces judgment on the heavenly beings. Give justice to the poor and the orphan; uphold the rights of the oppressed and the destitute.  Rescue the poor and the helpless."  Psalm 82:1,3,4

But God rules.


As our dear friend once said, "Sometimes God just likes to flex His muscles."  We are scared, but we're choosing to trust. God, please flex your muscles.

 And by the way, we're not going down without a fight.  #prayveryearnestly

Frogs and Thanksgiving in Ethiopia

This story has been burning in my heart and I've been waiting for the words to come.  It's one of my favorite experiences of all the things we did in Ethiopia.

It was Thanksgiving Day.  In America, that means turkey and stuffing, football and naps, and the best part, family gathered together to celebrate and be thankful.  But we were in a foreign country, many miles away from loved ones.  And oh, there are no turkeys in Ethiopia.

Andy and I awoke that morning and shared a simple breakfast in the dining room of our hotel.  We then walked over to another hotel to meet up with Ethiopia Smile, a group that travels to Ethiopia " to care for orphans, widows, and the elderly with obvious dental infection". We had been connected with Moody Alexander, the leader of Ethiopia Smile, through a series of events preceding our trip and felt privileged to join their team for two days.

To be honest, it was pretty intimidating to walk into a lobby and meet forty strangers, who all obviously knew each other.  We searched the room and found Sammy and Beza, and the four of us stood nervously in our matching t-shirts, waiting for instructions.

After a group picture, we piled into vans and set out for the neighborhood of Kare Kore, an impoverished community on the outskirts of Addis Ababa.  We had no idea what to expect, but knew that Andy would be doing his thing (dentistry) while Sammy and Beza helped translate.  I would be a "patient buddy."  And Dawson, a history teacher from Texas (who we'd just met that morning), would be Andy's assistant.

That day our team, partnering with the Lelt Foundation, would be providing dental care (extractions) for the men, women, and children who lived in the area of Kare Kore.  "The Lelt foundation provides nutritional and educational support to impoverished children in Ethiopia, and enables their parents to start their own sustainable small businesses." 


As our vans pulled up to their main building, my eyes were drawn to the small crowd gathered under a makeshift tent, erected to keep them out of the already blazing sun.  A small gate fashioned out of sticks kept the crowd in one place until we were ready for them.  I noticed a group of curious children pressed up against the gate, probably wondering what these feringes (non-Ethiopians) were going to do to them.  I was drawn to them and felt a strong desire to connect with them somehow.  Pulling a small journal out of our backpack, I ripped out a bunch of paper and began making origami frogs.  I had learned this valuable skill at sixth grade camp, and perfected it through the years.  As a child, I would make paper frogs anytime I was bored - at school, at restaurants, in waiting rooms.  (This was before the days of ipods.  Kids were forced to entertain themselves with paper- haha!).  The frogs are not only cute, but if you press on the back side, they actually jump!


As I started folding the paper, the kids gathered around, watching intently.  After finishing the first frog, I held it up for them to see, and then made it jump through the fence into the group of kids.  They laughed and smiled and began chattering away in Amharic.  I asked them to teach me how to say "frog."  Inkurarit.  They laughed and laughed as I butchered the pronunciation.  One little girl, determined to learn, sat in front of me watching as I made half a dozen more frogs.  She then motioned for a piece of paper, and that smart little one did it on her first try.  She beamed proudly, holding up her inkurarit for all the others to see.

One of my biggest fears in anticipation of traveling to a foreign country was that I would offend someone - that I would be ignorant of their culture and their customs and would inadvertently offend with my words or actions.  I prayed desperately that God would help me to connect with the people I met, and that the love and respect in my heart would transcend any cultural barriers.  This sweet time with those children, making paper frogs of all things, was such an answer to that prayer.  We couldn't communicate, yet I was able to speak the universal language of play and fun and laughter.  It's the children that your heart most breaks for.  The innocent ones, the ones who haven't yet learned to distrust, or to fear, or to abandon hope.  They come simply, without reservation, and they give freely - hugs, smiles, trust.  Oh, how I adore the children we met on our trip there.


At some point they called me away and told me I had to start working.  :)  I was so excited to be a patient buddy.  I loved the concept that Moody and his team had developed from previous trips.  Each patient would begin at triage, where a doctor would assess their needs and write on a dental bib which teeth needed to be extracted.  They would then be paired with a patient buddy who would walk them through the entire process - from waiting, to the procedure, to the pharmacist.  While in the chair, the patient buddy would hold the patient's hand, whispering soothing words, and basically being a presence of peace in a potentially terrifying situation.  These people have never been to a dentist.  All they know is that they are in pain, and that there are people here to help.  Needles and gauze and the strange metal tools are all foreign to them.  So, to have one person by their side, holding their hand (literally) through the process, seemed to put everyone more at ease.

The day was extremely fast paced.  As soon as I finished with one patient buddy, another one was waiting. The line of people waiting to be seen never seemed to diminish.  And the building we were working in was not large.  Patients sat in plastic lawn chairs with their heads propped up against the wall.  Small tables were set up next to them to hold the dental tools and supplies needed for each procedure.  Each doc had an assistant and in some cases, a translator.  We were crammed into two rooms, constantly tripping over each other and bumping into each other.  We never stopped for lunch.  I grabbed a bite of a protein bar and a swig of water whenever I had a few seconds in between patients.  It was hot.  I had to squat on the floor next to the patient and try to stay out of the way of everyone else.  My knees began to ache. My hands hurt from the pressure of nervous patients squeezing the life out of them.  We didn't stop all day.

 And I loved every. single. minute.

Waiting in triage

Beza helping translate during a difficult procedure

Sterilized tools

One particular patient stood out to me.  He was a young-looking man, quiet and slight of build.  His clothing was threadbare and old and smelled of dirt and filth, his shoes a size too big and almost worn through the soles.  I was paired with him and my first thought was, "How in the world am I supposed to comfort him?  He's a man.  He is NOT going to want some white girl holding his hand." 

We found out he is 37 years old.  I touched his arm and smiled.  "I am 37 years old too!"  He just looked at me.  His eyes were wild with fear and I could feel his body trembling as he lay back on the table.  Andy took a few minutes to pray for him while Sammy translated.  Without thinking, I reached down and grabbed his hand with both of my hands and started praying silently for him.  He was a hard case.  He had big teeth with big roots, and it took Andy over 45 minutes to extract two teeth.  This man probably had been in pain for years, and had learned to live with it.  The wild fear never left his eyes, but over the course of time, I felt him begin squeezing my hand back.  If he was forced to let go of my hand (in order to spit, or take a drink, or wipe his mouth), he immediately grabbed my hand again and squeezed hard.

 I don't even know this man's name, and yet I feel a connection to him, and an affection for him, that is indescribable.  For him to let me comfort him during a time where he was probably "supposed" to be strong and immovable - that was an incredibly humbling experience for me.  To meet him in his fear and vulnerability, and be able to stand in the gap for him, praying peace over him, is one of the most significant things I have ever done.  Such a small thing, yet such a monumental thing.  I witnessed the amazing, healing power of touch and it is an experience I will never forget.

Some people argue that missions trips are an ineffective way to help.  They say the money spent to travel could be better utilized if it was given directly to the ministries already set up in-country.  My question is: Why can't we do both?  I don't deny that there are incredible ministries in Ethiopia, Haiti, India, China, etc. that would benefit greatly from our financial support.  And we should give.  On the other hand, sometimes we also need to go there and see and love and touch and be broken.  Witness the beauty of other places, other people, other cultures.  To give our statistics (153 millions orphans) a name and a face.  To hold one in our arms and weep, and come back home and put that picture on our mirror and pray, and tell the story to someone else.  There is value in our presence.  There is healing in our touch - not just for them, but for us.  When you have a story and a face, you have a connection.  Connection leads to compassion, and compassion moves us to action.

Thanksgiving 2013 is one I will never forget.  We ended the day by celebrating Sammy's birthday with a delicious Italian meal and amazing conversation with new friends.  We fell into bed exhausted and spent, but so very fulfilled.  When you spend yourself for others, you always come away filled.  It's a formula that doesn't add up, but somehow it's always true when you're doing it for love.  We love because we are loved.  (I John 4:19)  We reach out because Jesus reached out to us.  Jesus walked among us, touching, healing, loving, connecting.  And when He left the earth for the final time, he said, Now you go, and you do what I did.  Be My hands and feet wherever you go. (Matthew 28:18-20)

We don't have to travel to a foreign country to be His hands and feet (although if you ever have the chance, GO!).  There are opportunities right here.  We have to make ourselves available though.  We have to let down our guards and open our hearts.  Be ready when God puts someone in our path.  Be willing to step out of a comfort zone.  God's willing to use anyone, but we have to be the ones to say, "Yes."

As Matthew West urges in his song, "Do Something" --
We are the salt of the earth
We are a city on a hill
But we’re never gonna change the world
By standing still

God, may I run this race hard!  Never stopping, never giving up, always looking up.  Ready to act, ready to go, ready to do whatever You ask me to do. 

Trust. Period.

It took us about six months to teach Sophia how to ride a bike.  Six months of torture, both for us and the neighbors.  The session would begin with donning the helmet, getting the bike in the proper position, and placing the feet on the pedals.  I would stand behind her and hold the back of the bike as well as one of the handlebars, and begin pushing her gently down our driveway.  That's when the bloodcurdling screaming would commence.  "I'M GONNA FALL!"  "STOP, MOMMY!"  "I'M FALLING!"  "DON"T LET GO!"

She was not falling.

She never once fell, during that whole six months of trying.

And I never once let go.

And yet, she doubted me every single time.

There were times I got so mad and so frustrated I had to tell her to get off the bike so I could take a break and go deep breathe in the corner of the garage for a few minutes. 

I remember at one point asking her, "Sophia, do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you have to believe that I'm going to do my best for you.  I'm going to hold onto you and try to keep you from falling.  And even if by some chance, you do fall, I'll be right here with you.  You have to trust me!"

Her first bike, received on her 3rd birthday

Eventually it all clicked and she swallowed her fears and figured out she could do it.  She learned how to ride her bike. And hopefully, she learned she can trust me.

Trust is a funny thing.  I've thought a lot about trust. Hence, the name of this blog.  I'm not sure I really totally get it, but I think I'm learning more about what trusting God means.

I'm learning trust isn't blind.  Trust isn't naive. Trust isn't drinking the Kool-Aid.  It's not a guarantee.  There's no magic formula.  And it's definitely not easy.

What I'm learning is that trust is moving forward, knowing that everything could blow up in your face.  It's having crippling fear, and still believing.  It's choosing faith, without knowing outcomes. It's allowing faith and doubt to coexist, and being okay with that.

I really wrestled with this in the months preceding our trip to Ethiopia.  There were nights I would wake up in a cold sweat, on the verge of tears, bound up in anxiety.  It wasn't that I thought our plane was going to blow up, or that I thought I'd be kidnapped by Somalian pirates.  (Somalia borders Ethiopia so some were concerned for our safety.)  Looking back, I think I knew, way deep down inside, that taking this step of faith was going to lead us into deeper waters.  I think I knew that going to Ethiopia was going to change our lives forever.  Not because we were going to die, but because maybe God was going to call us to LIVE for Him in a radical way.  A way we weren't ready for, or comfortable with.

Beth Moore, in one of her books, tells a story about fear.  Her biggest fear was that her husband would cheat on her.  One day, she felt like God was prompting her to face that fear.  She felt like He was asking her to imagine it happening. At first, she refused.  It was too painful.  It hurt.  It created more fear.  But the feeling grew stronger, and so she did it.  She imagined the day her husband cheated on her.

"The tears stung my eyes.  Butterflies flew to my stomach.  My insides turned out. I would be devastated at first. I would probably sin in my anger and say all sorts of things I would live to regret.  I would feel inexpressibly lonely and rejected and probably old and ugly.  But I knew that finally I'd go facedown before God just as I have a hundred other hard times, accept His grace and mercy, believe Him to take up my cause and work it together for good, and then I would get up and choose to live."

"These days I far less often pray, 'Lord, I trust you to....'  I simply pray, 'Lord, I trust you.  Period.'"
(from So Long, Insecurity)

During those long days of teaching Sophia how to ride a bike, I couldn't promise her she wouldn't fall.  I couldn't promise her she wouldn't get hurt.  I also couldn't promise her she would learn.  All I could do was tell her I would be there for her no matter what.  Whether she fell, or didn't fall. Whether she banged up her knees, or came out totally unscathed.  Whether she learned in two days or 180 days.  Whatever the outcome, the one thing she could hold on to with certainty was the promise of my presence.  (Minus the few minutes of garage deep-breathing).

"I will never leave you or forsake you...."  (Deuteronomy 31:6)

We are entering a new realm here.  We are stepping out into unchartered waters - adoption, teenagers, foreign governments, cultural differences, racial differences. attachment issues. We have NO CLUE how to navigate this uncertain future.  There are no guarantees.  There's a whole lotta fear.  A lot of  questions and concerns.  There's also a whole lotta faith.  A lot of confirmations and connections that only God could engineer. 

And I'm realizing it's okay for faith and fear to walk hand-in-hand.  The goal is not to erase fear and embrace blind faith.  The goal is to keep trusting, even in the midst of doubt.  Trust.  Period.  Because the One who is asking us to trust tells us He is never going to leave our side.  Not for one second of this journey.  Whatever happens, He will be there.  We're doing this scared, you guys.  But you know what?  We have to believe He will give us the grace we need for every moment - no more, and no less. 

To find out more about our adoption story, click on this link:
https://www.youcaring.com/thompsonadoptionfiveplustwo

A Day in the Life of a Full-Time Caregiver

Disclaimer #1:  I am not a full-time caregiver.  I am a temporary full-time caregiver.  To all of those people who care for a loved one full-time, I salute you. I know this has an end, but you might not.  My husband is injured but he will heal and be fully functional again.  You may be looking at a lifetime of sacrificial service.  You are a hero.

Disclaimer #2:  Andy is an amazing patient. He barely complains (only to let me know when he's in pain) and he thanks me constantly.  Each day he gains more mobility and independence and tries to take some of the burden off of me.  He knows this is hard on me, hard on him, and hard on the kids.  He has never lost his sense of humor through all of  this.  In fact, the first thing the recovery nurse said to me after he came out of surgery was, "Your husband is funny!"

Disclaimer #3:  I do not want your sympathy and am not looking for praise.  That's not why I'm writing this.  I am so glad I can be home to serve my husband and help him through this.  It's completely and utterly exhausting, but this is where I want to be.  He is my best friend, and I promised to love him through the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health.  This post is just a way to let you all see into our lives right now, and maybe to encourage us all to care for and understand each other a little better.

Here's a little sampling of what it's like, in my life right now.  This was a few days after he broke his ankle.

5:30 am   Wake up.  Tiptoe downstairs and pour my coffee in the dark.  Andy is asleep on the couch and I know he's had a restless night of sleep.  Tiptoe upstairs and have some quiet time to read, journal, and pray.

6:20   Tiptoe downstairs and start making lunches and laying out breakfast.  Navigate kids fighting over cereal boxes, brushing hair, finding lost shoes, spilling milk, signing papers, packing backpacks, all the while shh-ing them and threatening them if they dare wake up Daddy.

7:15   Drive the girls to the bus stop.  Andy is still sleeping (it's a Christmas miracle what with all the racket we created.  Or maybe it's just the Vicodin).

7:25   Take a quick shower while Jonas watches a movie on my laptop on my bed.

8:00   Help Andy get ready - make his breakfast, pour his coffee, figure out what meds he needs to take, help him get to the bathroom to brush his teeth, etc, run upstairs about 54 times to gather all the things we need.

8:10   Begin the process of getting him into the car - this includes holding crutches while he stands up, grabbing three pillows to prop up his foot, and making sure we have all the medical forms we need, grabbing a coat and a blanket to keep him warm in the car (b/c he can only fit shorts over his gigantic cast).  Help him out the door and down the steps (kicking kids' shoes out of his way), holding his crutches while he gets in the car, situating pillows for his foot.

8:20   Drive to doctor's appointment.

8:30   (same process getting out of car as getting in)  Check in, help Andy get settled in and his foot propped up (which involves rearranging the waiting room furniture), help Jonas find a game to play on my phone.

  8:50   Drive Jonas to preschool.

9:10   Back to doctor's office, where Andy has been taken back to a room.  Doctor gives lots of instructions to prep for surgery next week and explains x-rays, etc.  I watch as they re-splint his foot.  We make our next appointment and talk about scheduling the surgery.

 10:35  Stop to get a breakfast sandwich because I haven't eaten breakfast yet.  I am treated so rudely by cashier I almost start crying right there in line.  Cannot wait to get out of there.

10:45  Arrive at Andy's office and get him settled into a reclining chair so he can have a meeting with his staff to plan for the next few weeks.  I sit and eat my breakfast sandwich and check emails and facebook and try to catch up on all the unanswered texts.

11:30  Leave Andy at his office and run home to clean: vacuum, mop, clean up breakfast dishes, clean up the clutter, rearrange the furniture in the family room to make it more comfortable for Andy.  Take a few minutes to write some emails.

1:45  Drive to preschool to pick up Jonas.

2:10  Drive to Andy's office to pick him up.

2:20  Arrive home, get him settled in and fetch all the things he needs (chargers, water, a snack, meds, pillows, a warmer shirt, etc)

2:30  Girls arrive home from school.  Put together snacks and water and make everyone go to the bathroom.

 3:00  Take the kids to Wal-mart to get some things we need (also to get them out of the house so Andy can sleep)

4:00  Drive to a local park to take a walk.  It's colder than I thought it was and none of us have warm enough jackets, but oh well.  We find some ducks who come right up to us and the kids have a blast throwing snow to them and watching them nibble at it.  I'm thankful they're distracted so that I can talk for a few minutes with a friend on the phone.

5:00  Arrive back home and make dinner.  Eat with the kids at the table and bring dinner out to Andy.  Clean up the kitchen. Help the kids with homework.  Help them with showers.  Put away laundry.  Andy dozes off and on - sometimes falling asleep mid-sentence because of the pain meds.

6:45  Kids watch a movie with Andy on the couch so I can sit on my bed and read for a little bit.

7:45 Kids say goodnight to Daddy and then the four of us head upstairs for bedtime routines -brush teeth, find blankets and stuffed animals, close closet doors (because there are monsters in there you know), sit with each kid to talk and pray.

8:30  Help Andy get up the stairs so that he can shave and take a sponge bath.  Help him find clothes that will fit over his cast. Every movement is painful, so it takes 13 minutes just to get him dressed.

9:30 Get him settled in on the couch again (pillows, water, phone, heating blanket, chapstick, lotion, etc).  Make up a bed for him on the floor so that he can prop his foot up on the couch and switch positions easily in the middle of the night. 

10:00 Fall into bed exhausted.

10:01 Dead asleep.


The Sunday after Andy's accident I took the kids to the early service at church, and then we ran some errands.  I had left the house in a hurry that morning (read: mess) and came home to a sparkling clean kitchen - breakfast dishes washed, counters and table wiped clean, dishwasher emptied.  Andy told me a friend of ours had stopped by with cookies and ended up cleaning my kitchen for me.  I saw her a week later and thanked her.  She said, "Oh, it was such a small thing."  And I looked at her and said, "Well, for me it was a big thing.  When I am running all day long, you cleaning my kitchen for me is a big thing!"

Never underestimate what your acts of kindness  and service will mean to someone else.  If someone you love is sick, sad, worn out, injured, just had a baby - reach out and offer to help.  Be specific.  Rarely does anyone respond to the offer, "If you need help, let me know."  It is difficult to ask for help.  But people can easily respond to - "I have a meal ready for you.  When can I drop it off?" or "I would love to have your kids come over so you can have a break. What day this week will work for you?"

Friends folding laundry!

 I've learned many things throughout this experience, and one of the biggest ones is that Our people are amazing and Our community is incredible.  Thank you, thank you for the incredible ways you have loved on us during this very difficult time! We are surrounded by such great love and generosity and every single act of kindness - whether big or small - has impacted our family in a major way.  Much love!

Cuddles from our dear friend Jack