An Evil Thing

It’s a blog day.  Found out someone I know was raped.  A while ago.  But I’m just finding out.  And she’s not my BFF.  She’s not someone I hang with – or ever really have.  But she is a beautiful, beautiful person.  Kind.  Generous.  Servant hearted.  Hard worker.  And sweet.  So sweet.  Not that any of that matters. Evil doesn’t care who it destroys.  And everyone is someone to somebody.

So, I have to write and figure this out. Because it doesn’t make sense why God would allow this to happen to her.  I’m heartbroken.  Over her.  Over the world.

When I was younger, really young, maybe even in high school, I remember thinking and even saying out loud, I’d rather be dead, than raped.  The thought of it was so scary – living life afterward seemed like such a horror that it made more sense to me to just die.

Time.  Experience with God.  A bit more wisdom.  And my feelings are different.  I’ve met people who have experienced this – or something similar – and these women are radiant.  And their lives enrich others.  They matter.  Their purposes matter.  And what happened to them once is not who they are. In fact, what happened to them once has propelled them to be so much more than they once were. So on fire to help others.  To be a rescuer.  To share and save and give of themselves for the sake of the hurting.  What satan intended to destroy – the disgusting ways he wanted to ruin – God took that gruesome circumstance and healed, showed Himself strong and loving, and actually USED it for GOOD.

I don’t pretend to get it.  And there is so very much I don’t understand. It hurts.  But I do know for certainty that God is good.  And that there is no evil, there is no destruction, no death that He does not have the victory over.  I have faith in Him.

Nahum 1:1-3, 7-8 ~ The Lord is a jealous God, filled with vengeance and rage.He takes revenge on all who oppose him and continues to rage against his enemies!

The Lord is slow to get angry, but his power is great, and he never lets the guilty go unpunished. He displays his power in the whirlwind and the storm. The billowing clouds are the dust beneath his feet. The Lord is good,a strong refuge when trouble comes.

He is close to those who trust in him. But he will sweep away his enemies in an overwhelming flood. He will pursue his foes into the darkness of night.

1 Corinthians 15:55 ~ ”Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O hell, is your sting?”

I really don’t know what else to say.  I’m so, so sorry this happened.  So sorry.  And I pray for my friend – that the healing comes quickly.  That God reveals more of Himself to her – that she rests in Him, sees more of Him and realizes how deeply loved she is by Him.

Letter to My 7 Month Old Son

 

Dear Sweet 7 month old son,

it seems like yesterday we got the call surprising us with your existence and place in our hearts.  “It’s a boy!!!” I jumped up and down, paced frantically and talked a mile a minute as we notified grandparents and made plans to come get you as soon as possible….10 seconds would have been too long of a wait, let alone a 14 hour-across-the-ocean-and-most-of-the-coninental US trip through the night.  No sleep, but we made it (thanks to your mama’s sheer determination and so much help on the way from our family of friends).  That day was a good day.  Now you’re my little Clay Bear, which is so fitting because nothing has brought out the bear in me like you have.  Lord, help the lady who one day steals your heart from me!  It is going to be so very hard to share you.  I still can’t believe how much I love you…..

Everyday is Forever Day

Can I just say that I love that Mya’s “Forever Day” sneaks up on me every year….three years in a row I have been like, “oh yeah, today was our happy court date day.” Truth be told, she became forever ours a LONG time before our court date….a long, long time ago God destined her to be my daughter. On the floor in the bathroom when I was crying in pain – she was mine. The day I was driving to the gym and saw a baby belly drawn in the sky with a could pen, she was mine. Getting this picture sent to my phone from a nurse while driving to the hospital 100 miles an hour, she was mine. After a few minutes of holding her in my arms telling Matthew how ‘this just can’t be real or right….they just gave us this baby without even checking our IDs, and its awkward, I don’t know what to do and she looks like an old Chinese man.” Matthew simply says, “well, too bad. She’s ours.” She was mine then too. She’ll be just as much mine tomorrow as she is today. So, this day honestly hardly ever occurs to me. And lest you think we are some sort of weird adoption party poopers, trust me, this girl gets celebrated a LOT. Everyday is forever day. Everyday is her birthday. And everyday she wants cake to seal the deal.

my first glimpse of Mya Selene

Just Love

Original Write Date: October 15, 2013

Today is forever family day for us.  And it snuck right up on us, tonight, after our girl was already asleep!  But I still want to take a moment to celebrate, and to remember that God has done great things for us.

“Family is not defined by our genes, it is built and maintained through love.”

It is crazy how at one point in my life I clung to and longed for ‘genes.’ And now, it’s all just love.  And I’m so incredibly thankful for the love.  My heart has changed.  I know the truth.  My daughter is mine because she’s mine.  I don’t want my family to be defined by our genetic similarities!  That seems so shallow now.  So lame.  I’m not my mother’s because I have her voice.  I’m not my Dad’s because I have his eyes.  I’m theirs because they love me.  I’m theirs because they’ve poured out there hearts to God on my behalf. Because there is nothing they wouldn’t do for me.  I’m theirs because God gave me to them.  That is all.  And Mya is mine because she’s mine.  I love her.  If-you-touch-her-I’ll-kill-you love.  There’s nothing better than that.  There’s nothing else I want to define our family.  Just love.

Scratchy Throat Cries

Original Write Date October 3, 2013

Laying in bed at 6am listening to the sound of scratchy throat cries through the baby monitor.  It’s freezing and I don’t want to get out of bed, but those are sick baby cries.  I hop out of bed, rush up the stairs and pick up my poor little snuggle bucket.  Instantly her head is on my shoulder – no better feeling.  I do what ‘you’re not supposed to.’   We trek back downstairs and quietly slip back into my bed.  Two fluffy blankets over us, and a pup at our feet.  As she’s laying on my chest coughing and sniffling, I find myself thinking, “Thank you, Lord.”  Thank you so much that I get to be home with this little person who needs me.  Who wants to cuddle.  Thank you that I don’t have to hurry up and get dressed, out the door.  There’s this time we have.  I’m so blessed.

Some Thoughts I Forgot I Had

Original Write Date March 24, 2014

Was just scrolling through some of my old rantings and found a little gem….it’s from a time I was trying to find meaning in our childless state.

Here’s something to consider.  Maybe the truth is that barrenness allows for greater fruitfulness.  The work God is doing in me through this trial might far outweigh any victory I’d win without it.  Also, in a very real sense, being barren gives me more freedom to be a mother.  To see a soul that needs nurturing, and step in.  To open our home.  To drop what I’m doing and go.  To invest in the lives of neighbors, and friends….people who need love.

This may seem crazy, but there is some peace in believing this.  My infertility is not for nothing, and it is definitely not meant to hold me back.  Could it possibly be that my ‘unknown infertility’ makes me a mother?

I think I wrote that about 6 months before we got Mya.  What do I think now?  Yes! It was easier to care about others, and be deeply involved in their lives prior to parenthood.  Sometimes I really miss that.  I want to do something big and meaningful and unheard of.  Every decision now is weighed by how it will affect my girl.  My time is limited.  My energy is drained.  My money doesn’t flow as freely either.  My marriage is harder work than it used to be.  It is easy to feel overwhelmed daily by the sense of responsibility.  It is easy to feel stretched thin.

With all of my heart, I believe that you don’t have to be a parent to be a parent.  I’ve seen this truth play out in my own life….I have mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers who don’t share an ounce of my DNA.  But, for those out there, who like me, want a houseful of children to raise, I will always pray you get to experience motherhood, not just in the true sense of the word, but in the legal/common sense of the word too.  It feels ‘lesser’ or shallow to say that.  But if God has placed this desire in your heart, don’t give up.  There is absolutely nothing in the world like having a baby that is mine.  I’m learning it is hard.  Time consuming.  Wears you out.  But, you will never be the same again either.  There is a new part of me now that I didn’t know I had.  A joy.  A fire.  A depth. A part of me that life, death, time, or circumstance can never change. It is crazy.  Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.

SIDE NOTE:  I used to call myself ‘barren’ all the time.  Like it was some sentence or curse placed on me.  That was wrong.  If anyone is in Christ, she is not ever, not even for a second, ‘barren.’  Not even fruitfully barren.  Because The Lord lives in us, we always have life to offer….there is always something new being born in us, something we can gift to the world…a legacy we can leave.  We are not vessels of death, we are temples of life.

For Rudy

original write date Jan 20, 2014

For Rudy.

Today was a long, hard day, Big Guy. Deep in my heart I felt your time with us was coming to an end, but I did not expect it to happen today. You have gotten me through so much, Buddy. You’ve been with us. You have sensed our needs, known our hearts in a way only you could, and you just were what we needed.

You were chaos. A shoestring stealing bundle of fluff. You stole people’s food. You ate our first couch. You woke us up to pee by smacking us in the face. You made us laugh often (peanut butter sticky faces, shower surprises, shaking out your wet coat all over us). You transformed from a psycho pup into a cuddle bucket on the exact day I needed you to. You rode shotgun with me for 18 hours driving home, and you flew 20 hours in a plane’s belly following us around the world. You trained me for a marathon. You scared away a masked man from my front door. You watched all ten seasons of Friends with me the second time Matthew was gone. You fit in the palm of my hand the day I woke up from my Grandma’s death. You were my happy handful all of those years we were waiting. You delighted Mya. You were her first words: Doggie, puppy, “Ru-wee.” 

I never knew what it felt like to have my heart warmed until you were nestled in the crook of my leg. I will always be grateful. I will love you (and your floppy ears) forever.

Love, love, love,
Ashley

Job 12:7 & 10 – But ask the animals, and they will teach you. Ask the birds of the heavens, and let them tell you. In His hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all men.

MSN-DEN-HNL

original write date June 22,2014

My daughter and I finally made it to Hawaii after a horrific trip. Let’s just say it included a 12 hour delay, an injury free fall down an escalator (except for a few scratches), an ambulance ride to a random ER in Denver JUST AS WE WERE FINALLY BOARDING, an elbow popped back into place (at least it wasn’t broken – my poor little munchkin), a car seat-less trip to a hotel in the middle of the night and another delayed flight the next day. Oh and four stinky diapers in flight. 

There was some laughter too. Lots of time with my peanut. Recliners and toys in the USO. Lots of snuggling. A rescue and unexpected visit from one of my best friends of all time. New colorado themed clothing (I figured I deserved it and wanted to smell better). A clam and a peace that was completely supernatural. Patience was there that is never there. We had simultaneous playings of Mickey Mouse Club and Frozen (one on my TV and one on Mya’s) the entire flight, and were greeted warmly (with leis!) by our man and my Bestie.

Now I’m sitting here, exhausted, in this beautiful place feeling strange – feeling a little lost and longing for where home was, yet so thankful to be here. The last few days have left me with a deep appreciation for the resilience of my child, a new level of thankfulness for my friends (I always say I have the best, and I do), and for the amazing power and presence of the Lord to hold me up and keep me together….and bring order from chaos. He is unbelievable. This might not make any sense, but right now I am happy and I am sad and I am in good hands.

5 Months

original write date (August 24th, 2015)

We celebrated 5 months with this sweet little cherub this week. It feels like it couldn’t be 5 months already, and that he’s been here forever too – always been a part of us. I think my favorite part of adoption is the part where you forget your babies are adopted. Just 2 months after this guy bombarded our life, I was in a mixer at a ladies group. At one point we were supposed to get up and mingle if “you have adopted children.” I didn’t budge. Because I FORGOT. Someone nudged me and said, “Um….your kids are adopted.” Oh yeah. That’s right. Really though, my kids ARE not adopted, they WERE adopted. They are just mine, like yours are just yours. We are not special….and that is the most special part 🙂

She Knows

Sadness.  For the first time in her life, tonight I think Mya understood (at least at some level) that she isn’t my biological child.  It killed me.  We talk about how she came to us all the time.  Read wonderful stories about adoption.  Pray for birth moms.  We really celebrate her so much and we love her more deeply than I will ever be able to describe.  I know she feels loved and treasured and safe.  I know she knows she’s mine.  Out to dinner two nights ago she asked the waitress, “What’s your name?”  To which the waitress replied, “Daley.” Mya said matter of factly, “I’m Mya.  And my mom is ‘Assey’.  She loves me.”

But tonight was still hard.

We read “Born from the Heart” before bedtime.  Afterward I told her how she was born from my heart…how one day we got a phone call just like the mommy & daddy in the book, and we were so excited to go get our baby girl.  Mya said, “no, no, no, mama…I wasn’t in your heart, I was in your belly!  When I was a tiny baby I was in your belly and then I was born.”  NOOOOOOOOO she gets it.  They way it is “supposed’ to be.  What normal is.  So I reminded her about Clay – how he wasn’t in my belly, but how we raced to the hospital as fast as we could to get him, because we loved him so much. How amazing and wonderful that was, and that she came to us the same way.  My heart broke because even though adoption is amazing and wonderful….even though we believe ‘love makes a family’ and we don’t want other babies – we want the exact ones we have…and even though I love my children with the touch-them-and-you-die love that ensures they are mine….even though we are so pro adoption, I still wish so desperately that I carried them.  That I felt their kicks.  That they made me throw up.  That I was with them from the moment of their very first existence and their very first breath.  I hate that there are 9 months of Mya’s life that I wasn’t apart of.  I hate that I met Clay the day after he was born.  I want to know it all.  To have experienced it all.  And I want them to have a mom that was there from the beginning.  So I hurt a little tonight.

Mya, however, took it pretty well.  “Oh yeah, I remember.  Want some cookies?”  And we shared a plate of  her delightfully delicious pretend cookies.

Thinking about this now, I know there will be so many more conversations, times when she will ‘get it’ even more and have questions and sadness – it’s all part of our journey.  I’m grateful tonight that she is sleeping soundly, upside down in her bed with arms stretched overhead.  And I’m grateful that while she has two moms – the first of which took incredible care of her – valued her enough to bring her into the world full of life, I am also grateful that she has two dads.  One here that is so stinking crazy about her I sometimes can’t watch, and The One who has always been with her.  Who knit her together in her mother’s womb when I couldn’t do a stinking thing.  The One who knew her when the first cell divided, when the first heartbeat beat.  I wasn’t there, but she wasn’t alone.  And there’s some peace in knowing that.  More than anything I want her to be sure of His love for her, of how he calls her “mine.”

Isaiah 43:1-3

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by your name;

You are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.

When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,

Nor shall the flame scorch you. For I am the Lord your God,

The Holy One of Israel, your Savior…”