Wow. Today marks one year since V left the gates of the orphanage forever. On one hand, it's hard to believe it's been one year. On the other hand, it's hard to imagine that she's only been in our home for a year - she is so firmly interwoven into the fabric of our lives, we can't believe we ever lived without her.
This has been hands down one of the hardest years of my life. It has also been one of the most beautiful. If you're thinking - "She can't complain about it being hard, she CHOSE this life", you can just stop that train of thought right there. You're right. I chose this. It doesn't make it less hard. I'm not a saint, I don't have endless energy, and I don't have all of the answers. I'm just an ordinary, flawed mom who dared say yes to God, no matter what it cost. That doesn't make me any less exhausted, but it does make me enjoy the beauty along the way.
One year ago today I left the orphanage with a scared toddler-like little girl. We didn't really know what we were getting into. We thought she might have some hearing loss and some vision loss, and we knew there was a chance that cognitively she may never advance past this toddler-ish stage, but we boldly claimed hat we could change her life, and we brought her home on faith. Along the way we learned that she's deaf, and since they didn't sign she had no access to language communication while in the orphanage; and that she's legally blind without her glasses, so she also wasn't seeing a whole lot either. There were a few more surprises, but those are enough to complicate her life significantly!
Today I put a beautiful, vibrant little girl on the school bus. She ate breakfast independently, helped dress herself, went potty (she's potty trained now! Woot!), insisted that I send her chocolate milk instead of plain milk, and climbed into the bus. One year home the little girl that orphanage staff said wasn't learning is using ASL, is potty trained, feeds herself, helps set the table and clean up her toys, and a million other little things that are amazing. In the last year we have had what seems like a million doctor appointments - many of them 300 miles away. We have had orphanage behaviors, meltdowns, tantrums, surgeries, lost tons of sleep, and a million other stressful things. We have exhausted ourselves continuously - emotionally, financially, and physically. It has been HARD. But for every hard moment, we have seen a miracle - financial miracles, miracles in her life, beautiful transformation in the hearts of others around us. We took in a child who was very difficult - everyone who met her prior to adoption pretty much thought we were crazy. And she has melded into our family seamlessly, and BLOSSOMED.
At the end of this tough year I will say this: We knew what we were signing up for. We knew this would be hard. We knew we would see big changes in her, but we've been blown away by this little girl and all that she has accomplished. We've been blown away the people who have risen up to help us, and by our family's unconditional acceptance of the craziness we chose to bring into their lives. We learned that spiritual warfare is real. (I used to think it was some hokey crap all of the "crazy church people" believed in, but now I know I probably just wasn't doing anything bold enough for Satan to be too terribly worried about me. Now I know what it's like when he tries a full-court press, and that's how I know this girl is destined for greatness - Satan's desire to keep her locked away!) We've also been blown away by how hard it is to exhaust yourself over and over, how many miles we've driven in search of answers, how incredibly complicated it is to educate a deaf and visually impaired child, how many people told us it will be impossible to educate her in our rural area, how many rabbit trails we've had to chase to find answers, and how expensive it is to chase these leads and drive across the state a million times.
At the end of this year, my reflection is this:
Freedom has never been free. I am happy to have paid the cost for her freedom.
Redemption has never been easy. I am happy to have carried the weight of the struggle for her redemption. Christ died for our redemption - I have done nothing for her in comparison to what Christ has done for me.
She is worth it. She is worthy. Loved. Cherished. Every child on this planet deserves to be cherished, no matter what the cost is.
To those who donated or helped with fundraisers to help us bring her home; helped with meals, clothes, or the million other things it takes to make a family work; have invested in our lives in the last year; and have loved and prayed for us - thank you. You made this happen. We couldn't have done this alone. Every single part matters. You are part of a redemption story that is just beginning.
This has been hands down one of the hardest years of my life. It has also been one of the most beautiful. If you're thinking - "She can't complain about it being hard, she CHOSE this life", you can just stop that train of thought right there. You're right. I chose this. It doesn't make it less hard. I'm not a saint, I don't have endless energy, and I don't have all of the answers. I'm just an ordinary, flawed mom who dared say yes to God, no matter what it cost. That doesn't make me any less exhausted, but it does make me enjoy the beauty along the way.
One year ago today I left the orphanage with a scared toddler-like little girl. We didn't really know what we were getting into. We thought she might have some hearing loss and some vision loss, and we knew there was a chance that cognitively she may never advance past this toddler-ish stage, but we boldly claimed hat we could change her life, and we brought her home on faith. Along the way we learned that she's deaf, and since they didn't sign she had no access to language communication while in the orphanage; and that she's legally blind without her glasses, so she also wasn't seeing a whole lot either. There were a few more surprises, but those are enough to complicate her life significantly!
Today I put a beautiful, vibrant little girl on the school bus. She ate breakfast independently, helped dress herself, went potty (she's potty trained now! Woot!), insisted that I send her chocolate milk instead of plain milk, and climbed into the bus. One year home the little girl that orphanage staff said wasn't learning is using ASL, is potty trained, feeds herself, helps set the table and clean up her toys, and a million other little things that are amazing. In the last year we have had what seems like a million doctor appointments - many of them 300 miles away. We have had orphanage behaviors, meltdowns, tantrums, surgeries, lost tons of sleep, and a million other stressful things. We have exhausted ourselves continuously - emotionally, financially, and physically. It has been HARD. But for every hard moment, we have seen a miracle - financial miracles, miracles in her life, beautiful transformation in the hearts of others around us. We took in a child who was very difficult - everyone who met her prior to adoption pretty much thought we were crazy. And she has melded into our family seamlessly, and BLOSSOMED.
At the end of this tough year I will say this: We knew what we were signing up for. We knew this would be hard. We knew we would see big changes in her, but we've been blown away by this little girl and all that she has accomplished. We've been blown away the people who have risen up to help us, and by our family's unconditional acceptance of the craziness we chose to bring into their lives. We learned that spiritual warfare is real. (I used to think it was some hokey crap all of the "crazy church people" believed in, but now I know I probably just wasn't doing anything bold enough for Satan to be too terribly worried about me. Now I know what it's like when he tries a full-court press, and that's how I know this girl is destined for greatness - Satan's desire to keep her locked away!) We've also been blown away by how hard it is to exhaust yourself over and over, how many miles we've driven in search of answers, how incredibly complicated it is to educate a deaf and visually impaired child, how many people told us it will be impossible to educate her in our rural area, how many rabbit trails we've had to chase to find answers, and how expensive it is to chase these leads and drive across the state a million times.
At the end of this year, my reflection is this:
Freedom has never been free. I am happy to have paid the cost for her freedom.
Redemption has never been easy. I am happy to have carried the weight of the struggle for her redemption. Christ died for our redemption - I have done nothing for her in comparison to what Christ has done for me.
She is worth it. She is worthy. Loved. Cherished. Every child on this planet deserves to be cherished, no matter what the cost is.
To those who donated or helped with fundraisers to help us bring her home; helped with meals, clothes, or the million other things it takes to make a family work; have invested in our lives in the last year; and have loved and prayed for us - thank you. You made this happen. We couldn't have done this alone. Every single part matters. You are part of a redemption story that is just beginning.
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