Stick with-it-ness and a virtue granted by God or something you show to others—GRIT AND GRACE. These two very short but powerful words have become my mantra in the last year. By no means am I completely a “girl with grit and grace”, but I’m working my hardest to get there.

The last year has been tough. Not awful. Not terribly sad or depressing. Just tough. Why? It’s a year that I sat and really reflected. I slowed this journey down. I thought…

…and thought

…and thought some more.

And I second-guessed how long I was taking. I let my heart heal. I got angry. I prayed. And I really pulled inward (or at least I tried to…it’s not really in my personality). And most importantly, I sat in the silence. I thought that my “reflective process” would never end…

But it did. And now here we are. We have committed to an agency. Something I was unsure would happen again. We have a caseworker, and so far, she seems great. We just got sent our new batch of home study paper work.

And I’m scared.

I’m ready to move forward.

I’m nervous.

I know my future is there, but I still can’t see it.

I worry.

And now…

I know that it’s completely okay. How do I know that? Because grace allows me to trust that I don’t always need control, and the grit I’m trying to develop allows me to get up and push forward. Because you know what? Throughout all the fear, the lack of trust, the waiting, the stupid comments, the love, the support, the wisdom, the awakening, I know I needed this process and I couldn’t be surer that I’m exactly where I need to be. So don’t get me wrong, this isn’t some sob story…this is a revelation. I’ve been born a new woman—just a girl trying to have grit and grace.

So just a girl trying to have more grit and grace…what does that mean? It means starting to work on the paper work even if I do feel a little fear. It means educating myself on trauma, transracial adoption, and things that are currently affecting adoptees. It means outwardly asking you for your love and support. It means cutting people slack while thoughtfully educating them. And it means relishing in this beautiful and simplex journey. Because let’s face it, grit and the recognition and giving of grace is developed in the process, not just the end result.

~Chelsea

This week Mother Nature has thrown a lot at us—mild temperatures, a little sunshine, cold temperatures, rain, sleet, ice, and snow. Now normally in Wisconsin this isn’t too much of a shock. But in April? It’s hitting us hard. I’m looking out my window seeing the nuthatches and cardinals eat at our feeder while the snow is falling and whipping around. It’s weird, but I have a strange sense of calm and peace. Why? Because spring is coming. It always does.

In my recent blog post “Ecclesiastes 3:1”I talked about seasons and how they relate to life. For a while this year I really felt as if I was in the fall and winter seasons of my life. It didn’t last all that long because I’m generally a pretty cheerful, happy person, but it lasted long enough. It involved a lot of rest, self-reflection, building of relationships, some prayer, and a bit of wanderlust.

The road to building a family through adoption is a process. It takes time and just about any analogy for life will work for adoption. There are valleys and mountains. There are seasons of winter and summer. It doesn’t make life bad; it makes it an adventure. A learning process. A time to grow. To gain perspective. Isn’t that what our time here on this beautiful earth is all about? Moments of darkness, pain, confusion, anxiety don’t seem so bad when you relish in all of life’s beautiful moments.

I am so thankful for the seasons we’ve had throughout our adoption process. And the seasons don’t always come in a perfect order or when we think they should. Ironically the winter moments have taught me far more than the summery, sunshine moments. And I know that I will relish in the summer much more because of those harsh winters. It’s an adventure.

So beneath the 5 inches of snow and layer of ice, I know that the grass will get green and spring will come—right here in good ole’ Wisconsin and in our journey to building our family. Our application has been approved; we’ve taken a calculated leap of faith and will be working closely with our caseworker on our second home study at our new agency. Do I feel a little scared? Sure. Do I think the journey is close to ending? No, it never is. Am I excited? No, but I feel peace because I’m certain we are where we should be regardless of where we end up, with or without children. With one child or a sibling group. But better yet, I feel courageous because I’ve learned to trust this journey. Now winter, fear, time or whatever is thrown at us won’t stop us. The seasons have been long, but we’ve needed them. The time has been long, but we’ve needed it. So although I don’t always know the plan God has for us or the plan Mother Nature has for Wisconsin, I’m trusting in it.

Snow in spring? Sounds pretty crazy. But have faith. It will be gone in a week as if it wasn’t even here. And that first real spring day where the earth comes to life with trees budding and the sun kissing our very winter skin will revive all of us. So much that we won’t even be thinking about the winter but we will relish in the spring.

~Chelsea

 

 

So the application is in–now we wait for ‘approval’. I hear the comment frequently, “Oh there’s nothing to worry about, and who wouldn’t approve you?” In my conscious mind I get it and understand it, but it’s hard to not let the subconscious dominate in certain situations. Especially when you have to wait.

The hardest part of a trial, or anything for that matter isn’t always the level of darkness, the uncertainty, or the breadth and scope of it all. The hardest part of a trial is often its duration–that uncertainty of how long it is going to last. How long should it last? Another month? Maybe another couple of years? Longer than our already preconceived expectations?

Let’s get basic for a minute…we can’t know.

And that’s the hardest part.

We started our adoption journey 2 ½ years ago—and counting. How long in your life is two years ago? How long in your child’s life? Did you even have children? Imagine being in the same condition for 2.5 years—not aging, not moving, stagnant.

Okay so that was the heavy part.

So here is what I have learned about the wait. No matter how long I have been waiting the clock must never be my focus. Whatever, time, trial, hardship I may have experienced or may be experiencing today—and however much longer I may have to experience it still—the clock will always be a source of discouragement. Speculating, calculating, and marking that time will always distract me from the important stuff.

So if watching the clock builds despair, and the wait is difficult, yet we have to wait, how do we build hope?

A couple of things in my life build hope in often trying situations and one of those is FAITH. To obsess over the clock is to put MY time limits on how long I think I should be forced to wait. It’s putting our human expectations on time and what WE think should be happening at each precise movement of the second hand.

Watching the clock leads to all kinds of trouble. But my faith leads to hope.

So I live right now in total confidence, sure that my faith, no matter the outcome of my life situation, will lead me to exactly where I’m supposed to be. No matter how many years it needs to last.

So here I wait…will we get approved? Will we adopt? I hope so, I think so, but I don’t know so. And no matter what I have to wait. And this current wait is even before the home study–more waiting. And the matching—still more waiting. But my answers are never to be found in contemplating the clock face. They are only to be found in my faith.

Tick, tock…

~Eli