One Year Ago

One year ago I slept in bed next to an empty crib.  His clothes were folded and stored neatly; toys organized in bins- the life I planned for him all tucked away on shelves and in drawers- waiting for the day when he would come home.  One year ago, I didn't know when that would be, but hoped and prayed so very hard it would be soon.

I thought of him in the crib where he was, at the orphanage across town, and wept.  Who kissed him goodnight?  Who sat with him when he couldn't sleep?  Whose was the face he saw when he woke up in the morning?  Answers I didn't have, and didn't really want to know.

~

December 15, 2010 was a normal morning for me, running work errands around town- until I got a call.  Up until this point, my social worker had never called me.  I had always been the one to call her to check how things were progressing- and up until this point, she never had anything decisive to report.  I hadn't yet even gotten a real "YES" about taking home this little boy.

She said everything so matter of factly, "Your papers have been signed, you can come get them."

"And so, after I get the papers, I can go get HIM?"

"Yes, you can."

"Like, today?  I can go to the orphanage, pick him up, and take him home to stay with me?

"Yes, I said that already."

I hung up the phone and started to cry.  They said yes.  They said now.  As of that day, I would be his mother.  He would be my son.  Forever changed, just like that.

It's how He works, don't you think?  Eternities altered in a moment- though planned and purposed from before time began.  Tonight I sit in bed and am so humbled and thankful for the past year.  So many challenges.  So many joys.  So much life.

Here's to one year and a thousand more, my beloved boy.  May He be glorified in each and every one of them.

Celebrating Friends

I want to introduce you to my sweet friend, Sophie and her daughter, Natasha. I have a tender spot in my heart for this family for lots of reasons...first and foremost, Sophie and I are walking on similar paths. She is only 22 years old, living as a single woman here in Zambia, and has been called to be a mother of a beautiful former-orphan. As I am sure you have guessed, we have become FAST friends. Secondly, Natasha lived in the same orphanage as Joab- and though we are not sure if they remember each other, it is still so sweet to watch them play together. Thirdly, I so admire Sophie and the way she has fought for this little girl. Her persistence (it took over a year and a half to get everything in order before Natasha could come home) so mirrors that of our Father, and I love the way she is showing that part of God to the world.

 I had the absolute privilege of hosting a shower for these lovely ladies today, and it was such fun! Most of you know that I love to cook, especially for a party, even more so if it is to celebrate a dear friend. Here are some pictures from the day...

I love this last one of Jo and Tash- I think their favorite part was the "after party."

Ta Da!

Joab's quilt is finished! Such a fun project, and I'm excited with how it turned out. These pictures, however, could definitely be better, as none of the colors are quite right. Oh well- I hope you enjoy nonetheless...










































I actually chose the fabrics for the quilt based on this quilt that is already hanging above Jo's bed. It was given to him by his sweet Cuz-Aunt Mary at our baby shower in May. I love the colors in it, and even more the hundred wishes it lists for Joab. I often use them as inspiration when I pray for Jo before he goes to sleep...



























My three favorites are "Compassion," I hope one day that Joab is able to show the same compassion the Lord has shown him; "Perseverance," the Lord has chosen a seemingly hard road for Jo, and I pray that He will also give him the perseverance needed to walk it; and "Cheerfulness," Even more than just walking the path before him, I hope God gives him grace to do it with a cheerful heart.

Thanks so much to my Mom, who taught me everything I know about sewing; Sarah, who let me borrow her machine (and just for being a good friend here in Lusaka); and to Holly and Eric for their helpful input along the way!

Fun Day!

Well, our first day of Mulungushi Homeschool went quite well! Got Joab's visual schedule made and put into action...

























And this afternoon, as part of our "outside play," we broke out the sprinkler! Jo was a little skeptical at first, but then (as you can tell in the second pic) HE LOVED IT!


















































I also got started on all the measuring and cutting for the quilt- I got the design from an old Martha mag (don't care what you say, she will always be my go-to gal), it's super cute and I cannot wait to show you the finished product!

You Still There?

Gosh, I hope so, though I know I've given you very little incentive to be checking in these past few months. I cannot believe that two months have gone by- they have been so full of work and fun and growth, I'm excited to share more with you. This week, Special Hope is taking a few days off (Zambia has its Presidential Elections, and though we are not expecting any significant violence, we are still hunkering down at home to be on the safe-side), and I am going to take that time to get back into this blogging business. I have lots of things planned this week (you know me, always a-planning)...

-Making these fabrics into a really fun quilt for Joab...



















-Playing homeschool mom and getting a bunch of stuff organized into a mini-classroom for Joab...



















-Being outside a lot, Zambian weather is beautiful this time of year...






















(Read this post I wrote about these trees when they were in bloom last year)

-Writing more about Joab. You can tell he is the theme this week- and in planning, I realized that I haven't actually written very much about him on this blog, and since I think God wants to speak through his story, I'm going to take some time to tell my perspective of it. I hope over the next few days to share more with you about how I met him, how I became his mother, and what he is actually like.

It's good to be back, friends, hope you are as excited as I am!

I Do Declare

Today was more than just a birthday. It was more than just mine. It was more than just Joab’s. It was more than a theme (though I did love the chance to get creative with the ‘tree’ motif). It was more than yummy food. It was even more than friends gathered together. Today was a day when I got to celebrate my son.

You see, I know there are plenty in this world who would have looked at his life and said why bother? A kid like that is more of a hassle than he’s worth. Sure, they probably wouldn’t have said it outright, but deep down, that’s what a lot think.

But today, I got another chance to shout back at them: He is my son. And he is absolutely worth it. He’s worth hours spent on just-right cupcakes. He’s worth making sure every detail is covered. He’s even worth washing rocks so that they don’t look so dirty around the fire-pit (let’s just say I’m in an ‘I hate dirt’ phase, and there’s a lot of it in Lusaka).

He is worth celebrating, and I will continue to do it not just on his birthday, but everyday I get to be with him. I am utterly privileged to be his Mama, and completely head over heels for this little boy. People can say whatever they will, but as for me- I do declare I am blessed, thankful, and filled with joy to be the one who gets to throw his birthday parties. Bring em on (but not too fast…).

Back At It

Well friends, after a five-week hiatus, Joab and I are back in Zambia. We had such a great time visiting family and friends, and got so much helpful advice from therapists (including and especially my sweet cousin Mary)- but we are glad to be back! There is so much work to do, and we are excited to get back at it. I will write more over the weekend and next week about everything we are up to- but before that, here are some fav moments from the trip...


Ohana (plus Christina!) showers its first baby- Joanna's sweet Galilee is clearly next in line! We can't wait to meet her.





The fam celebrates Dad's retirement from the Navy- we are so proud of him and his 30 years!







Joab and his cousins pose for an upcoming United Colors of Benetton commercial. So dang cute.






Emily graduates! Go Hokies! (the only time that phrase will ever find itself on this blog...WA-HOO-WA!)








Another of the fam (welcome Allen!) celebrating Em's admission into grad-town.

Open Your Mouth- Cville

Hey you Charlottesville friends- Joab and I will be speaking (I'll be doing most of the talking, Joab will provide a whole lot of background noise) downtown at The Haven tonight. We'll be sharing a lot about what Special Hope has been up to for the last year and where we are headed in the near future. Come see us if you can- more details on Facebook!

Open Your Mouth- JMU

So, if you are anywhere around Harrisonburg tonight, you should come to Open Your Mouth! We'll share Joab's and my story and plans for the future of Special Hope! Come if you can...comment if you want details on where!

Hey Hey USA

Major change of gears since last post- Joab and I have made it to the US! After so much prep, planning, and a long trip- WE MADE IT! Joab couldn't have done better, and I am so thankful for a smooth flight. We're so excited to get to spend the next month with family and friends, and get to be here for Mom and Allen's wedding, Emily's graduation, and Dad's retirement from the Navy. Bring on the good food and fun!

Here are some pics from the journey, and from our arrival with Auntie Suz, CuzAunt Mary, and Cousin Jack...

Choosing to Celebrate

I sat on the couch, carefully cradling him in my arms. His lungs were working so hard to get air, and his forehead was burning up. I looked into his little eyes and just cried. I knew this would be the last time I got to hold him.

Francis died this morning.

He became part of the statistic I hate so much. He's now included in the 80% of children with an intellectual disability who don't make it to 5 years old. That statistic now carries so much more weight, and my abhorrence of it has increased more than I thought it could. It weighs more because it now has a face to go with it. It now has a name. It now has attached to it a moment when I had to say goodbye.

And so, I write tonight to make certain that he does not fade away into the numbers. To be sure that his face and name are remembered. He was fearfully and wonderfully made by His Father, and I want to celebrate it.

Don't misunderstand, I do not want to celebrate his death, nor the way he died. Someone (I don't know who...) will have to pay the price for the injustice he suffered- I am convinced God will not allow it to go unpunished. He will right every wrong, for Francis, and for each of those 80%.

I choose to celebrate, instead, that I got to be with him. For whatever reason, God saw it fit for me (and others) to be there with him for his last days and hours. I got to be one of the ones to make sure he knew he was loved. To cheer and beg him on as he ate and drank. To simply hold him and sing to him in between feedings. To be heartbroken when he breathed his last.

I still do not understand everything going on. I know that Francis will not be our last, but he will always be our first, and for that is reserved a most tender place in my heart. I pray that God make room in your own heart for him, that he be remembered by many who never even met him, and that his story would convict and compel your heart to whatever end God may choose. And as always, may our Jesus by ever so glorified as He does.

Here's to Hoping

Before we moved here, we always talked about it as an inevitability. The statistics wouldn't allow us to escape it. But I don't know that we could have ever prepared for the day when we would care for a child who was dying. And yet, here we are. Francis is 1 year 5 months old and weighs only 11 lbs. At roughly half his suitable weight, his organs are most certainly failing. His skin hangs off his tiny frame in sheets. His bones poke through and seem like they could break at the slightest touch. His eyes stare blankly and his mouth can barely handle the food we are trying to pump into him.

The reality is- Francis' little body is deteriorating. The hope, however, is- that God would step in.

Looking at him, it seems impossible...good thing that's His specialty. And though we know it's not His guarantee, we ask...we hope that God would step in and make His glory known through Francis' restoration.

Pray with us...

We Got the License!

Today's trip to Social Welfare was finally successful, and we walked away (quite happily, might I add) with Joab's license to travel!

Passport office, here we come.

Zambia, Oh Zambia

There was a poem I had to memorize in the first grade. It was a Shel Silverstein classic, and we youngins' thought it was pretty cool that our teacher even allowed us recite it before the class...

Homework, oh Homework
I hate you, you stink.
I wish I could wash you away in the sink.
I'd rather take baths with a man-eating shark
or wrestle a lion alone in the dark.
Eat spinach and liver, pet ten porcupines,
than tackle the homework my teacher assigns.

Pieces of this poem have been stuck in my head ever since, and unfortunately, there are occasions when other words find their way into the "homework" spot. Zambia may not fit according to syllables, but there are certainly times when my mind squeezes it right on in there.

It has happened several times this week, in particular when I have been packing up the boy and his stuff to make yet another trip to Social Welfare. I swear I have driven to that building at least 5 times this week. There haven't even been 5 days yet. And, Tuesday was International Women's Day, therefore causing an entire city shut-down, and so it doesn't even count.

While the people there are friendly (they all now know us by name), there are indeed moments when I wish I was dealing with a hungry shark instead. The look on the face of a hungry shark is very straight-foward- it says 'you look like a tasty snack and I am going to eat you.' The look on the face of a Zambian, however, could mean a plethora of different things on a spectrum that spans an incredible distance. When the Social Worker woman tells me, 'ah yes, I will have this done for you by the end of the week,' she may actually mean the end of the week. However, what week she means exactly is always unclear. Does she mean this week, or a week many moons from now? I am never sure, and now matter how hard I try to read, their faces never do tell.

You all remember the day I had to eat liver at our friend Nancy's house, and while that is not an experience I am looking to repeat- I may actually consider doing it if it meant the woman would hand me the license right then. If only it was as simple as performing a silly dare, but alas, I have found that tackling this task has been beyond frustrating for me.

I really believe that it will all work out, and that we will get the license, passport, and visa in order for Joab to travel back to the US- but would you all pray with me that I don't keel over before it happens? Would you also pray that God gives me a heart that is a tad more mature than a first-grader so that I can stop this poem from going through my head all day? And let's be serious- I've seen a few lions, and I think I'd take on any Zambian before I stand up to one of them.

He Was Made for Walkin

And apparently, that's just what he'll do- as of Thursday night, that is. Joab had taken a couple steps while my Dad and Uli were here, but on Thursday, he actually walked all the way across our bedroom. And then, the next morning, he walked all around the house. Then the yard. Then the mall. Then the yard again. This kid is a walkin machine- there is just no stopping him. Believe me, at moments I have really tried.

I thought I was tired already, but I'm thinking that this new milestone is going to cause me as much exhaustion as it does pride and joy. But I am one happy mama to chase this boy wherever he wants to go.

Minus One, Plus One

Tomorrow morning, Joab and I go to pick my parents from the Lusaka International Airport! They will be staying with us for the next week, and we are so excited. We will be going to Livingstone for a few days, and then hanging out here for the rest. Pray for safe travels for them tonight, and for a fun week ahead for all of us.

So, although I am thrilled to add Joab into our family's collection of photos (which Uli has meticulously organized), I am sad that Emily won't be here to be in them. I guess we will have to wait until the Spring in order to capture the whole fam, but here are some good ones from our US rendezvous at Thanksgiving (pre-Joab, obvi)...

Does it Even Need a Title?

It's certainly not his best work, but it's what I got on camera for now. I hope you enjoy this beaver boy as much as I do, dear readers!

Step One: Results

Well, she wasn't at her office and so a phone call had to suffice. I explained to her the letter I needed from her in order to submit the passport application- and she responded by explaining to me that she had been describing this to me all along! Even though she had told me no such thing and actually argued the opposite, I played the confused American, and thanked her so much for clarifying. Supposedly, she will be contacting her superior about getting the letter this week.

Please pray, as we have learned the Zambian meaning of time to be worlds a part from western perspectives, particularly mine.

Step One

So, I need you all to pray. This Spring, I hope to be ale to come back to the US with Joab in order for him to see a bunch of different developmental specialists. It also happens to be my Mom's wedding, my sister's college graduation, and my Dad's retirement from the Navy. Kinda a big month for my fam, and I so want to be there- with Jo- for all of it.

This week is a crucial one in the process of getting us there. Tomorrow morning, I will go visit my social worker and try to convince her to write a letter approving Joab's Zambian passport application. For some reason I really can't figure out- this woman is not necessarily cooperative, and really has not been when I have brought up this subject in the past. Will you pray that the Lord would soften her heart for the sake of Joab and how much he would benefit from this trip? Even more, pray that the Spirit would quicken her step so that this letter is written quickly so that I can submit his application this week!

Looking ahead to the next steps, you can pray that the processing of his application goes smoothly (could be some glitches considering he does not have a birth certificate or any known surviving relatives), and that we will have it all ready for our visa appointment with the US Consulate. You can also pray that the Consulate would be compelled by our story and that they would be willing to grant Joab a visa!

Thanks so much dear friends, I'll keep you posted.

Being a Mom

I was one of those little girls who stuffed pillows under her dress while playing house. I was always the Mom, with my little sister, Emily, playing my first child, and the pillow on it's way to being my second. Even then, I knew being pregnant was part of woman's life, and that eventually, I would be married and carry a baby in my tummy too.

Fast forward to college- even though I no longer stuffed my shirts with bed linens, I still dreamed of a perfect family. Perfect husband, perfect marriage, both of which inevitably led to perfect children and a relatively perfect life. I don't mean to say that I thought it would be smooth sailing- I just meant that it would turn out exactly as I had always imagined.

Isn't it always interesting when fantasy fades into reality? Since college, I have watched my 'dreams' give way to this life- the one where I turn out to be living in Zambia as a single-mom to a 2 year-old boy who has special needs. There is no perfect husband present in this picture, which in turn nixes the idea of the perfect marriage-thing. My son is certainly not what the world would call perfect. And yet, I have come to love this life.

The seas here are by no means calm and balmy, but then again, I don't think they are supposed to be. They are meant to be my training ground in depending upon and trusting the God I claim to be my own. They are designed to show me my own incapabilities in contrast to His capacity to do that which is otherwise deemed impossible. They are purposed to shout forth His glory and fame to this ever-darkening world.

I don't know where we'll end up, or where this path will lead, but I reckon I will have guessed it wrongly from the very beginning. And I think I'm OK with that.