To Be Known

 We're waiting.........

Last weekend we had the incredible opportunity to meet with the social worker in South Africa who we will be working with.  This woman is an incredible advocate for children. She is knowledgeable about childhood development and the unique challenges that come with adoption. She told us about the baby homes and how children are cared for and families selected. I had been praying that God would affirm our decision to embark down this, what often seems crazy, path and my prayers were answered. A renewed sense of excitement is rising. 

As we sat and listened I realized that this woman sitting before us will know our next child before we do. In fact, she may already know him or her. She will likely have the opportunity to hold, photograph, delight in our child before we know of them. I am confounded yet again with a confusing mixture of joy and sadness. An experience I have found to be common in the process of adoption. Joy in that our son or daughter will be well cared for, loved, delighted in while they await our arrival. Sadness that I will not be there to delight in those early squeaks and gassy smiles that we endlessy video taped J doing. While we shared all of J's early milestones, we will miss many of those of our second child. They will be "known" before we meet them. 

The process of discussing adoption with Jake has been filled with "aha" moments for myself. I find myself constantly trying to simplify what I view as a highly complex process. And yet, while there are many layers of complexity in the process of adoption from administration and government regulations to attachment and transracial parenting, perhaps the deepest root of the matter is, in fact, not all that complex. We read a couple stories from the library at bedtime today. One titled "God Gave Us You" about a little bear wanting to know where they came from. In this story God gave the Mama bear the baby bear in her tummy. The second "God Found Us You" a story about a Mama Fox who waited and waited until God found her the perfect little fox to join her family. Both stories of families. Stories of how God provides children to families. Different yet similar. In both cases God knew the children before they met their mamas. He selected the little ones especially for their mamas. They just arrived in different ways. A simple explanation, yet resounding with truth. Yes, my little one in Africa, you will be known before we meet you, but first and foremost by the same God who also met your big brother first. 

We can't wait to find out who He is finding for us.

A Long Time

Those of you who are geographically inclined will notice a slight error in the way Africa is depicted here. I assure you, our dear cousin sewed it on correctly and when we get technologically inclined enough to take another picture we will right it :-)

So I suppose that it has been a long time.....a really long time......way too long....since I logged onto this blog and attempted to organize thoughts to share. I suppose the blogging absence summarizes most clearly the season in which the "embracing" of everyday did not come so easily. As a good friend put it so clearly this week "there are days" when disappointment, self righteousness and ingratitude cloud over like a nasty disorienting storm.....thankfully there are increasingly more days in which the light shines through and hope provides clarity pointing me towards all the blessings I experience. I have been hesitant to share this journey....and there will be much of it I won't in a public arena but this week I found myself challenged. If I don't have the courage to share my darkness am I missing out on the opportunity to glorify a God who so strongly desires me to find my way to the light? So, it is in light of this that I will provide a brief update of a very long journey that has led us to today....and also to quench to curiosity of many who wonder how we have landed ourselves on the path to international adoption :-) 

There are a great deal of things I don't understand in life. Some I try to make sense of and come up with some resemblance of understanding. Others I drive myself batty trying to understand and others still that I have somehow found peace in not understanding but trusting that a God much greater than myself has things figured out. Our experience with secondary infertility has been a journey from the second to the last. It has been one of those instances in the life over which I have had absolutely no control (that would be the driving me batty part). Yes, there were alternatives to pursue but we didn't. Yes, there is the possibility that we might have another child naturally, but we haven't. So, in light of the strong desire we have for a large family and the many children who desire to belong to a loving and stable family, we have decided to pursue an international adoption. To welcome into our home, to embrace into our family, to love with all our hearts a child given life by other parents but entrusted to us to raise as our own. 

What you should know.....

We are excited.

We are excited to be at the stage where we are waiting. Not overly thrilled about having patience to wait but trusting that a proposal for the newest "Ehmann" will come at the perfect time. Yes, the experience of infertility has been heart wrenching. Yes, we will probably still struggle with this challenge when we hear of new pregnancy announcements or smell the sweet smell of a newborn....but we are so excited to be in waiting for a babe of our own.

Yes, Jake knows.

While his understanding is limited, he knows that we will be picking up his brother or sister from the "heart".....the heart on the pillow above is in South Africa. While he has informed us that he really would prefer a cowboy.....he is generally accepting that a brother or sister would be okay too. That is pretty much all he knows and developmentally we feel about the extent of what he can grasp. When the proposal comes we'll have more discussions :-) 

We have no idea how long we will wait.

I get antsy when the internet connection is 5 seconds slower in our home so you can well imagine how challenging this wait might be. We have been told that there is about a 15 month wait. We are on month 3. I will leave the math up to you....although keep in mind there are a few variables, like the two governments, two agencies, and some international policies that might mix things up for us at anytime......if you are the praying type, we would appreciate a little bit of that in this area.

We feel led here.

While neither of us pictured ourselves pursuing an international adoption at this stage of our lives we have no doubts that this is where God wants us. Adoption is not a back up plan because we believe that it has always been God's plan for us.....we just might not have been aware of it. We trust that no matter where the adventure of growing our family takes us that an adopted son or daughter will be part of it. There are things beyond our control (as we have become acutely aware of) but, God willing, we desire to pursue adoption regardless.

Country: South Africa

Organization: Mission of Tears (Ontario)

Like I said short summary of a long journey. I hope to use this blog to keep people updated on where this journey takes us from here. Not promising any sort of regularity but check in once in awhile to see where we are. 

 

A New Season

The seasons are changing in Saskatchewan. While the blizzard last weekend may have suggested otherwise I will not allow myself to believe that it was anything other than winter's final sigh as it makes way for spring. The potholes, rutted streets and dripping down spouts all suggest that snowbanks, large as they may be, will soon recede. I can't wait.

My tomatoes seedlings are growing away in my basement, I only hope they don't bear fruit before they can make it into the ground outside. My garden is planned. I cannot wait for new life to spring forth in my backyard. While the white landscape may have held a few weeks of magic around December 24th it now feels nothing but grey and dreary. It is time for green, for flowers, for warm sunshine. It is time for change.

A metaphorical season in the Ehmann house is also changing. It has been a long season as well. One that started of exciting and......well, magical might be a bit strong.....but has now become somewhat long and dreary. Residency is ending, just when I thought it wasn't going to......there are many similarities between this Saskatchewan winter and medical training. I am excited...looking forward to seeing a little green in more ways than one it appears.

As often happens at the end of a difficult season, the challenges faced fade. Memory has a funny way of protecting us from difficult seasons. Why else would women have more than one child....or people continue to live in Saskatchewan year after year :-). The danger of forgetting is that we fail to remember the ways in which we have been provided for throughout this season. It is hard remember the neighbour down the block and the generous use of his snow blower while you are basking in the July heat. I don't think to be thankful for not scraping my car windows in August or running out quickly in bare feet in June. In this moment, while the memories are still fresh I am thankful.

I am thankful for friends, family and neighbours. Those who have prayed for us, shared meals with us and supported us. Those who have shoveled our driveways, walked our dog and invited us over for a night of distraction. Those who have facilitated date nights and getaways. Those who have filled our freezer and cleaned our home. Those who have visited whether in person, on the phone or through skype. We are blessed.

Grasping to Remember

A loved one is losing their memory. Grasping to remember where they are, who is visiting, how to do things.....who they are. A lifetime of making memories slipping away.  Life is fragile. Dementia is a stealthy thief, a relentless fiend. This time it moves swiftly. I am sad today thinking of my family at home laying witness to memories lost. I am sad I can't be there yet partially thankful I am not.

I am reminded today of how treasured memories are. The ones, big and small, that we make each day. The memories of childhood, of friendships, of family. The laughs shared, tears shed. How I take these for granted. That I wake up each morning knowing where I am, recognizing the face of my husband the giggle of my little boy.

As I drove to the pool for an afternoon swim yesterday, my heart heavy with reports from home, I wondered what it might be like to lose everything yet still remain. To forget even your very sense of self. To forget not only those you love but who you are at your very essence. A thought struck me. Perhaps this happens more than I think. Perhaps even in the absence of dementia, I can lapse into periods of forgetting who I am.

In this season of lent, the season of reflection....of remembering...is it possible that I can lose track of who I am? Of who I am in Christ, the very essence of my being? When I feel hopeless, am overcome with worry, see myself as lacking, am I really forgetting who I am? If I am honest this happens not only during Lent but at all times.

As I watch from a distance someone grasping to remember, I am challenged not only to embrace today, the very creation of those treasured memories but to reflect daily, to practice the art of remembering who I am.

Little Feet

This morning little feet pad around my house. Four little feet....two more on their way for a playdate. Three babes born under a month apart almost a year and a half ago. Thump, thump, thump.....all around the house. From the kitchen, down the hall, to the big picture window to check out what is happening outside. Squeals of laughter, spontaneous dancing, the jibber jabber of toddlers deep in conversation. Much to be thankful for this morning.
This has been a week without a husband. He deep in studying for an exam, preparing to be licensed a few provinces over. I deep in one on one time with my little man who is teething like crazy. It has been a trying week but as I placed another load of laundry in my washing machine this morning I found myself thankful for the little things. Or rather challenging myself to be thankful for the little blessings that surround me (although I am sure in many parts of the world what I deem to be "little" are nothing short of miraculous). So here it is....my blessing list this morning.

I am thankful that loads of laundry are completed each week with a push of a button. With a swish and swirl and 55 minutes later. Clean! Miraculous. My ancestors would be in awe.

 ....and behold.....my dishes are cleaned in a similar matter. Each night as I sleep.

 In a world filled with snow and subzero temperatures I am thankful for a car that starts reliably. One even starts with button, waiting warm for us when we are ready to leave.

 Dimming lights in the wee hours of the morning.....and good friends that suggest installing them when a new babe is on the way.

 Heat in my house that does not require me to gather, chop or trek into the snow for more heating fuel.

 Musical toys......with off buttons.

 Technology that allows me to daily connect with friends and family far away.

 Windows that let in sunshine when freezing temperatures keep us from enjoying the daylight outside.

Left overs frozen away ready to eat when time slips away and meals aren't ready.

Timers on ovens, because when life gets busy things get burned.

With  a reminder of the blessings it is time to chase some of those little blessings. To add a big pair of feet to all those little feet running around. To let some of my own laughter join the mix. 

Love Your Neighbour

 
Well the Christmas Season has come and gone and our little family has finally returned home. The home we left in late fall surrounded by leaves of gold and red is now blanketed (rather thickly) with snow. I have missed this home and I am so grateful to return. Our time away was good, much better than I could have hoped for. Our return so sweet.

Merely hours after returning our neighbours greeted us. The next morning arriving with a dozen fresh baked buns and another of delicious homemade cinnamon buns. While I don't know the exact age of our neighbours I would suspect them both to be in their eighties. Both are masters of their own art form. Her a skilled quilter that puts any of my amateur work to shame. Him an accomplished wood carver, turning what is raw and misshapen into intricate works of art. They are generous people. People who graciously lend to us tools, baking supplies, even manpower and skill. Just over a year ago he helped Tim dig window wells and landscape our backyard. She, on more than one occasion has picked up thoughtful gifts. A unique pin cushion from a quilt show....material she knew to match the quilt I was working on....tools she knew would make my project easier. We are blessed.

Jake and I try to make it over for a visit when we can. She gives him cookies, he laughs as Jake crawls over him. They both let him have the run of the house. During our first visit of the new year I mentioned that I was having a hard time finding a rabbit ornament for Jake's Christmas present. Yes, I know, Christmas is past but a little boy won't know when his mom tracks down the perfect ornament for his second Christmas just as long as it is ready for the tree next year. Jake's beloved stuffed animal "Peter Rabbit" has been hard to find in ornament form. Within minutes of my request, our neighbour, the one who professes to not give away any of his carvings presented us with a mini "Peter" so perfect. The rabbit was quickly adorned with an ornament hook and signed by the artist. My search concluded. The perfect ornament was found. Yet again blessed by the people next door.

As I reflect on the generosity of these neighbours I am challenged. I feel loved by them undoubtedly. I feel cared for by the other neighbours on our block who have welcomed us home. For the ones that walked down the block when they saw us outside and invited us to a games night this week. I feel loved by these people who would ultimately be strangers did they not live on the same street. Do they, and the others that live in the houses along our street feel loved by us? Do the lonely ones? The angry ones? The worrying and anxious ones? The ones with new babies or difficult teenagers? Do they feel loved by us? Do we see unshoveled driveways and long grass as annoyances, products of laziness or opportunities? As I enjoy yet another cinnamon bun and look forward to a play date with the family across the way and a games night with the couple down the lane I am grateful for my neighbours I know and love and challenged to love those I am yet to know.