Lately Ive been thinking....

Lately Ive been thinking about how my life has changed since we started down the road to adoption.  We have done an awful lot of work for what doesn't feel like an  awful lot of movement, and my normal looks quite a bit  different than it used to.   Here's a short list to better illustrate what I mean:


Prior to adopting never had I ever:

Blogged about anything whatsoever

Expressed an opinion on Facebook

Experienced pangs of homesickness for someone I've never met

Sold personal belongings on Craig's List

Wept publicly so much that no one even considers it unusual anymore


Also, never before adoption did I ever:

Know what paper beads were, much less wear them all the time

Know that 80% of the world's orphans result  from poverty and feel compelled to do something about it

Have a psychiatrist diagnose me as  "despicably healthy" and tell me what a great choice I made in marrying Steve based on his personality assessment

Walk a constant tight rope between "first world problems" and third world realities.

Become keenly aware of all my own weaknesses or have a problem so big that hard work, a positive attitude,  and and/or money couldn't solve it.


And most importantly for this post, prior to adoption, never did I ever:

Regularly store hundreds of candy bars in my bedroom closet

Have enough quarters and dollar bills from selling said candy bars that I  ended up owning both a coin rolling machine and a money scale   neither of which I purchased, by the way!

And never ever before did I cry over a decorated shoebox.
 But I have now!

As it just so happens, Anthony Thomas  candy bars have been a slow but steady fundraiser for us.  Sales ebb and flow with the seasons, but little by little, those purchases add up to a lot of money.   We have literally sold a couple thousand of these sweet treats now  - one chocolate lover at a time.

This spring, we hit a real slump in candy sales at work, at church, and everywhere else, so I decided to hang it up.  Then we did the T-shirt fundraiser, and I realized that candy bars took longer, but didn't take near the emotional toll on me, so after I got my new Seeing Eye dog settled enough that visitors to my desk wouldn't be a problem, we jumped back in.

I have always kept several of them at my desk in some sort of basket, trying to change it up seasonally.  I didn't have anything summery, so on a whim, I texted my babysitter who happens to be super artistic and asked her if she could come up with some sort of display for me, possibly using red and blue in honor of the Haitian flag.  She texted me back that she had a shoebox just begging to be used, and that she thought it sounded like fun.

By the next day, she had finished the project.  She wrapped the box in red and blue paper, printed out Haiti's code of arms, and made the top of the box look like the Haitian flag.  She listed the candy bar flavors and prices inside the lid, and even made an envelope from construction paper that looked like the flag to put the cash and coins in.  She used a slogan she found  on-line that simply says "From Haiti to Home" and listed our family's name.  

When she texted me her description, I had trouble replying to her because it literally caused tears to stream down my cheeks and I couldn't talk.  What she did for me was more than just a tiny gesture, decorating a shoebox.  Somehow, that phrase, "From Haiti to Home" incapsulated what I've been trying to get at with many, many words for all of these months and could never quite capture.

The last couple of months' worth of adoption email updates have gone like this, "Delay.  Delay.  Delay.  Glimmer of hope.  Squashed hope. Delay !"

I am not even going to guess at how long it will be until we see the end of this saga, or how many home study updates we'll do, or how many times we'll renew our fingerprints.  Our wait grows longer, the cost gets higher, and our strength runs out.

Even still, we hold unswervingly to the hope we profess.  We believe in the God who called  us and who makes all things possible.  We wait, not always perfectly, and we trust, sometimes by determination alone, that God has a plan that is bigger than what we can see.   But I have to admit, it is hard.  Very, very  hard.  I have never been so tempted to give up as I have been in the last month.

And then, when I was at the end of my reserves , the shoebox appeared on my desk.  "From Haiti to Home.  Shelton Family Fund."  And I cried a river.  Someone cared enough to do a little thing, that energized the same old thing we've been doing and gave  it new life.

Other quiet supporters have surfaced lately too, running satellite candy bar offices for me at their cubical in their offices.  They have no idea how much they encourage me and how much energy they give me when they place an order, hand me a few dollars, and report back they're running low on almond, or caramel, or peanut butter, or crackle.  Those messages remind me that I'm not alone in this fight, and they help me carry on as days stretch into months, and now years, and we just keep waiting.

I know this isn't the most exciting post I've ever written.  It's not full of deep thoughts or life lessons.  But this is the reality of adoption.  It's not always uplifting, and sometimes I grow weary of being my own cheerleader.  And in these moments, I treasure those who stand by me more than I could ever express.

Steve and I will be going to Haiti this fall through GO Exchange, where we will get to spend some time with the orphans and workers we advocate for every day.  Since I don't know how long it will be until we travel to meet our own child, I am choosing to focus on this trip as my next attainable goal.  I cannot wait to experience Haiti, to soak in her culture, to wrap my arms around her children, to have my heart broken in new ways, and to come home with an intensified passion for her people, and especially the one who will some day share our last name.

"From Haiti to Home."  It's going to happen.

"Thanks be to God for this indescribable gift."

"GIve thanks to the Lord.  His love endures forever."