You Can’t Have Children…part 4

Finally my husband lets me have a say! This is part 4 of part of the story of how our precious daughter, Sophia, came into our lives. You really should read parts 1-3 first. You can find them here under the Category “Life” or by searching for its tag with Adoption, Regi, Sophia or You Can’t Have Children. While you’re here, feel free to check out my husband’s blog at www.RegiStone.com. I think you’ll like what he shares. 

The phone call from Regi came out of nowhere. I was in the bathroom putting make-up on to go to my job selling make-up. Life was miserable. And I sure didn’t want to hear my cheery husband calling from an exotic location where he’d probably ordered room service the night before while I ate a bologna sandwich. (Okay, so Kansas isn’t exactly exotic, but at the time, anywhere was better than the hole I was in.)

To top things off, he called with a story about a baby. The last thing this woman dealing with infertility wanted to hear was about some rosy-cheeked baby he held between services so I tuned him out. I don’t know at what point I started listening, but I remember sitting down as my freshly applied mascara turned into big black tears. As if God were whispering in my ear, I suddenly knew this baby girl would be ours.

Two years earlier, my doctor confirmed my suspicions of infertility. So after many tests, my last option was outpatient surgery. All I remember as I lay in the recovery room is Regi telling me that it would be nearly impossible for me to have a baby. Instantly everything became clear. God had kept a record of my sins. Every scripture I’d ever highlighted in bright yellow had been a big lie. Too angry to cry all my tears, I determined that when the Big Guy and I got alone, we’d have it out once and for all.

You know that feeling you get when your electricity goes out on a night when the moon is hidden by clouds? That’s what the next two years were for me. Anger. Tears. Guilt. More tears. Ugly, ugly night. Eventually I would learn that the darkness has to come in order to give way to the light. It was during this time that I found my way to a 13-week Bible study and embarked on a journey of learning about God in a whole new way. A funny thing happened when I got honest with myself and God—my heart began to heal. Finally, two years later, I began letting go of things that I had no right to carry.

And the lights came back on.

I stood firm in my faith and acceptance of God’s love for me just the way I was. I found scripture I never knew existed. And I wrote through the pain. Before long, it was the beginning of a new year and I believed in my heart that I would become a mom this year, that my body would be healed this year. The days came and went, with nothing. Again I questioned…Are you there, God? It’s me, Kim.” I even tried to take back all the anger and guilt I had given Him, but He couldn’t remember where He put it! Helpless, I looked up and said, “What are you gonna do? Drop a baby out of Heaven into my arms?”

I guess you could say that’s what He had in mind.

Upon returning from Kansas, the man who had never even discussed adoption with me could hardly be contained. We wrote some letters, scrounged up the best pictures of family we could find, and took pictures of an empty room that we hoped would be filled, before sealing our dreams in a FedEx envelope. We waited for one very long week until the phone rang at 11:00 p.m. on April 15th. Thankfully, it wasn’t the IRS.

It was JoAnn, an angel from heaven in the form of a social worker. She told Regi, “Before you go to sleep tonight think pink. You’re going to be a father.” She said something to me next but all I remember is hearing the word “Mommy” and then crying. This time, the tears didn’t hurt.

We headed to Kansas on July 4th and by the next day we were at the hospital awaiting our precious daughter to be born. It seems crazy that we shared so much laughter and excitement with the birth parents and their siblings, parents, friends, and my sister who flew in from Florida. But it was like a puzzle taking shape before our eyes. No fear. No doubts. No anxiety. Just peace as the pieces began to take shape.

When my baby girl was placed into my arms for the first time, it was like the hand of God was handing her to me. She looked at me and all I heard God say was, “See how much I love you? You had to wait because your gift wasn’t ready. I’ve never left you. I’ve never turned a deaf ear to you. And I haven’t punished you like you thought you deserved. Don’t ever forget how much I love you.”

I assure you that the road to Kansas and finding my way to being a mom was a difficult one. I felt so forgotten, so unloved, and so disgusted with myself that I didn’t think there was any hope for my dreams to come true. I know now that the path God carves for us in the mud sometimes takes a completely different route than we imagined. You can’t be afraid to trust where He leads just because you might get a little dirty. Do you need to hear from Him? Then search for Him with your whole heart. I remember praying that someone would come my way who could help me through my depression, who I could talk to when the pain got unbearable, who would simply understand me. Know what I heard God say? “I’m not sending anyone to help. This is about you and Me.” And it was in His true faithfulness that God met me, at my lowest pit and changed my life for good. Oh, I’m grateful for the children that call me Mom. I’m grateful for my husband who obediently went to Kansas because he thought he was there to sing a few songs. I’m eternally grateful for the brave girls who chose life and gave us the privilege of becoming parents.

But more than that, I am forever grateful to a merciful Father who loves me. Who works all things together for my good. Who never leaves me or forsakes me, and who doesn’t deal with me according to my sin or repay me according to my iniquities.

He has written a story we’ll never get tired of telling.

 

You Can’t Have Children…part 3

This is Part 3 of You Can’t Have Children. Make sure you’ve read Part 1 & 2 before you continue.

As we sat in the parking lot, I could hear my heart pounding against my chest. My mind was racing. I wondered if I’d be cool enough. I was afraid my accomplishments wouldn’t measure up. I felt inadequate. Then a car pulled up 3 spaces over. A young couple appeared. Hesitant. Half smiles. With obvious apprehension. Table for 4 please. And there we were face to face sipping our cold soda’s when the birth mom quietly brought out a small pad of paper and pen and started asking questions. I answered until she seemed satisfied. The birth father hadn’t said 2 words. So, I asked him what he enjoyed doing. He shrugged and said he liked to bowl. Funny, God has a sense of humor. At that time I was in two bowling leagues. And, of course, that sparked an instant connection. Bowlers unite! Writing about this feels like it all happened yesterday.

After about an hour we said our goodbyes and I joined Pastor Joe and his family for dinner. He asked if he could pray for God’s will and we did. If you would have known me during this time of my life, you would understand just how unusual this story is. I didn’t talk much about having children. This left my wife reeling with frustration and the pain of not having me there, willing to communicate during our journey with infertility.

The next morning came early. Pastor Joe picked me up for the airport and just as I got in the car he said I needed to contact the social worker right away. I called and she informed me that if I wasn’t serious about adoption that I needed to tell her because the birth parents had called saying they wanted more information about our family. Whew! I figured now was probably a good time to call my wife back in Nashville to tell her what was up.

When Kim answered the phone I said, “you’re never going to believe what I did last night.”

I was home within a few hours after our talk and we started collecting pictures and we videoed Kim saying hi to the birth parents. We sent everything Fed-Ex and waited. I had no idea that Kim had slipped a letter in with the package to the birth mom.  Here’s part of that letter.

“I can’t imagine what you are feeling as you are preparing to make one of the greatest decisions of your life. When Regi told me we were going to be among those considered to be your little girl’s parents, I cried and cried and cried. I never dreamed it could happen. But I realize how hopeful our future is and how God can work miracles in very mysterious ways. Please know above all that whether or not you choose Regi and me, it is my hope that you find peace in your choice of parents and that you gain the wisdom needed to make this decision. However, If we are your choice, you can be assured every night before you go to sleep that your baby will be loved unconditionally. My arms have longed to be filled with a baby for so long that I don’t know if I would ever let go of her. We are truly honored that you’ve even considered us. You have given me yet another moment’s strength and another day’s hope. May your years be filled with peace, love and happiness.”

The next few days seemed like forever.

Part 4 The Final Chapter coming soon.

You Can’t Have Children…part 2

Before you read this make sure you’ve read Part One so you get the whole story.

I arrived late on a Saturday afternoon, nervous but ready for the days ahead. Sunday morning went well and after lunch I invited some friends to the evening service. They came and brought a couple with a little baby. When I was introduced to their friends, I commented that their baby was cute. They thanked me and said they had just adopted him a couple months earlier. The next evening a gentleman purchased my CD and asked if I’d sign it. There’s a first time for everything. He gave me two names to address the CD to. I’m not sure why. but I asked him if the names he gave me were his children. With a huge smile he said, “yes, they are my adopted children.”

After a round of golf the next morning, my friends called and invited me to lunch. Their worship leader joined us and ten minutes into our conversation he asked if my wife and I had children. I told him no and he commented that he and his wife didn’t either. Finally, I had met someone who was like us. Then he said, “but we are adopting in a couple months.” What?? Unbelievable! I thought everyone in this town must be adopted. I remember most everything about that moment. The tree we parked under. The cracks in the pavement. The slightly overcast day. I don’t remember much about the food or any of the rest of our conversation. My mind was racing.

The next morning Pastor Joe picked me up for lunch. On the way, he told me about a woman who had requested prayer the night before for a young lady she was working with planning to give her child up for adoption. She was praying the child would be placed in a christian home. Pastor Joe said, “I know we haven’t talked about you and your wife’s infertility since last year but is this something you may have interest in?” I was glad I was sitting down. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I couldn’t speak for a second. I remember him saying, “are you okay?”  Finally, I told him what had been happening ever since I had arrived. He said, “Regi, did you ever stop to think that maybe God is up to something?” That’s one lunch I don’t remember and I like Chinese food. I called Pastor Joe’s assistant as soon as I returned to my hotel room. Within a few moments I was on the phone with the social worker. After a 20 minute discussion she asked if I’d like to meet the birth parents. Whew. I’d never done this before. “Yes”, I blurted out. I was leaving early the next morning so she didn’t know if it would be possible. But she called back to say we could meet that evening after the service. I couldn’t tell you anything about that final worship service except that immediately after the final prayer we were walking out the door. My heart started beating faster. I felt like I needed to let down a window. And then we were in the parking lot. Waiting.

The story continues soon with Part 3…

You Can’t Have Children…part 1

This is part 1 of a blog my husband posted on his site at www.RegiStone.com. You really ought to check his stuff out while before going any further! He has shared this story on his travels over the last 14 years so he tried to condense it and this is what he came up with. One day, we’ll capture it all in a tiny little book that you can read, share and eventually use as a paper weight. 

Some years ago we found out we couldn’t have children. That was tough to hear. And living with that reality was even harder. We thought the first Laparoscopy would take care of everything. Then the second. And yet a third. Have you ever gotten your hopes up only to have them dashed like waves against a rock wall? It leaves you breathless. Unsure of how to cope or communicate. You make decisions you wouldn’t ordinarily and life feels like a fog that won’t lift. That was our world for two years.

“When are you guys going to have kids?” This was the question we heard more than too many times. Baby shower invitations were difficult to open and it wasn’t long before depression moved in like a cloud over our home. Been there? Writing about it brings up memories of great difficulty but living on this side of pain reminds me just how far God has brought us.

I traveled almost every weekend during those years which left my wife home alone. Alone, to deal with the pain. Even when I was home I wasn’t present when it came to discussing children. I can’t find any explanation why I didn’t communicate with her, but I didn’t and time dredged on. One particular weekend I was at an event when a gentleman approached me and introduced himself as Pastor Joe. He asked about my family and then the question came. Do you all have children? I told him we didn’t and then for some reason I told him we couldn’t have children. I didn’t mean to tell him it just sort of spilled out before I realized it. He said he was sorry and told me he and his wife had struggled with infertility year earlier but that God had blessed them with a beautiful baby girl through adoption. He told me with a smile, that they now were enjoying their grandchildren. Before he left he asked me to contact him to discuss coming to his church as music guest. Since he had never heard me sing or play, I figured it was a nice gesture and that I’d never see him again.

Six months later I contacted Pastor Joe and was invited to a 4-day conference at their church. I didn’t realize meeting him in the midst of thousands of people would be the beginning of a truly amazing story.

Part 2 coming soon.

Regi

 

A Brown Paper Bag

Something waits below the mundane of taking the kids to school, heading to the gym, sitting at a desk wishing you were home—do you see it? It’s called purpose. Sometimes you must search for the intention behind the action, but I assure you, it’s there.

For me it’s as though a Mack truck pulls into my driveway and blasts, “Can you hear me now,” because more often than not, I’m too busy to listen.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

It’s so much easier when you stop and listen.

Eli forgot his lunch last week. I didn’t notice the bag in the refrigerator until he called at 10:55 asking if I would bring it to him. There’s no chance he would buy what the cafeteria passes off as food, and neither would I expect him to eat it.

But I was in the middle of seeing the handyman off to Home Depot to get a few supplies for the house when the phone rang. Mr. Handyman was kind (and quite the talker), which made it difficult to pull myself away.

I finally cut him off mid-sentence to say it was urgent that I leave immediately—no time to explain. I knew that if I didn’t, Eli’s lunch period would be over; that quiver in his voice said he was hungry. I would break every speed limit to get to him in time.

Before you tell me how I should have handled this request, I assure you this was not intended to be a lesson in Good Parenting 101. Purpose was waiting. So carrying a brown paper sack, at the intersection of Edmondson Pike and Old Hickory Boulevard, I listened.

To understand what I’m saying, answer this: What was the last thing you asked God for? I bet most will say something tangible like a paycheck (or a bigger paycheck).

  1. The childless may say…a child.
  2. Those who are single may whisper…someone to spend the rest of my life with.
  3. For some…a new home.
  4. Others…groceries.
  5. The sick may say…a good report from the doctor.

The more we ask for things, the more I wonder if God simply hears our requests as, “Susan needs provision. Jim needs sustenance. Cynthia needs healing. Allison and Michael need peace.” Perhaps He goes beyond our tangible requests to offer what we can’t physically hold in our hands.

But first, I know what you’re going to say because I’ve said it before. “If He answers our prayers, then where’s the baby I’ve been praying for?” Or, “I haven’t even been asked on a date and He’s know how badly I want to be married.” Or, “My cupboards are bare. I need food.” The truth is, I really wish I had all the answers, or at least knew someone who could give them to you. What I do know is this: when we ask something in His name, His plan—which is far greater than what we could ever dream—perfects itself, but in His time.

Eli calling and me rushing to him made me think of it like this. Imagine you are in need. You pick up the phone and dial 1-800-I-Need-You-Jesus. He answers. He hears your cry, stops what He’s doing, and rushes to you. When He shows up, He is carrying a brown paper bag. You assume it’s exactly what you asked for. You open it and are a bit surprised at first. It’s not a baby. Nor a winning lottery ticket. Not even the clean bill of health you prayed for.

Then what’s in there that He rushed over to give you?

How about the exact measure of GRACE for today’s situation? STRENGTH to carry you through infertility until the baby He intends for you is born. PEACE that He will take care of you, even if you never get a ring on your finger. COURAGE to help you face your sickness with determination and confidence. 

Does it make sense?

That day was a lesson for me. Normally I would have rolled my eyes and been frustrated that I had to drop what I was doing and take a sack lunch to my son. But it was different this time because I allowed God to show me a much greater purpose.

Here’s my advice to you:

 

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

It’s so much easier when you stop and listen. What’s He telling you?

 

“I don’t think the way you think. The way you work isn’t the way I work.” (God’s Decree.) “For as the sky soars high above earth, so the way I work surpasses the way you work, and the way I think is beyond the way you think. Just as rain and snow descend from the skies and don’t go back until they’ve watered the earth, Doing their work of making things grow and blossom, producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry, So will the words that come out of my mouth not come back empty-handed. They’ll do the work I sent them to do, they’ll complete the assignment I gave them.” Isaiah 55:8-11, The Message

 

 

The Cabin In the Woods

Morgan, Sophie’s BF, was at our house during the last round of tornado warnings. While the girls were squished in my closet-turned-office-turned-safe-place, I headed outside to take pictures of the swirly sky. “You’re not much of a worrier, are you?” Morgan commented. Funny how I don’t worry about tornadoes ripping the roof of the house, but do worry what people think of me. I’d say it’s a 6 on a scale of one to ten.

Now, let me get this off my chest: we have not gone off the deep end.

With the very quick sale of our home last week (on the market for five days with four offers), we were faced with two choices: find another house fast, or find a place to rent and breathe. I am fond of breathing.

The only problem I foresee is that we haven’t rented since the beginning of our marriage when we lived in a two-bedroom duplex with ugly green carpet. Twenty-two years later and I’m assuming all rentals look the same. Besides that, I never dreamed of being here after trying to do all the right stuff. My expectation was that we’d be moving into our dream home where we would retire in years to come and I’d eventually rock a grandkid or two. (Note to self: lower the expectations and chance for disappointment is much less.)

I am the one who talked my husband into renting (remind me of that in the days to come should I need it) because I’m not one to rush; I don’t even like being late to church. Another thing I don’t like is debt. While we’ve maintained a mostly debt free lifestyle (apart from a mortgage and that stupid car Regi bought but has since sold), it feels like a plane has crash- landed right into the second act of this important play called Life. As small business owners, we’ve carried around our last remaining business loan for a few years now. Then the KGB (thanks for the perfect description, Dave Ramsey) sent us a hefty bill that they want paid yesterday. Living with that kind of debt is like carrying a ball and chain with you everywhere you go.

Regi immediately started looking for a rental and found a place within a day. After seeing it online however, I gave it two thumbs down and asked him to look for something normal. However, it’s difficult to say no to my husband, sweet as he is. I obliged to simply look.

The Front Porch

When I sat in a chair on the front porch and looked over my front yard, I was hooked.

Guess what?

We will be living in a cabin on 22 acres. Of course we’re not renting the 22 acres, we just get to enjoy it. And no, I’m not simply giving the house the affectionate name of cabin. I’m talking made-of-wood with a fireplace that doesn’t have a switch. Yes, a cabin. Complete with a front porch view of the stables and horses, the pond, garden, and the two other homes on the property. We even get to rent Sable as well, the oversized Lab with something-something mixed in who bounds over like a goofy elementary kid every time we show up. She’s the big dog we’ve always promised (I sure hope she likes little dogs).

Could it get any better? We’ll see. I feel a journey leading somewhere that is going to open my eyes to things I haven’t seen in a while. I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

Risking All To Walk On Water

We put our house on the market Thursday. By Sunday, we had two offers. Monday brought one more. I’m reminded of my pastor’s sermon two weeks ago on Risk Faith and Courage—was he talking about For Sale signs as well? MY plan was: find out about a change in schools by Friday, put the house on the market the following Monday, and then by the end of next week, have the house sold! However, in spite of the first answer taking longer than planned, we decided to go ahead and stake the sign in the front. I liken it to sticking my toe into a creek to see the temperature, not ready to jump in yet.

For the first time in years we aren’t sure of where we’ll land after our house sells. We’ve talked about, wanted to, and had a purpose for moving (all while staying in Nashville) for over a year. You know the “stuff” we worry about? None of it has lined up and that has been my signal to keep waiting for a break from the perfect storm before doing anything. Then I heard those words from the platform. Until then I assumed risk, faith and courage was for couples wanting to move to far off lands and open orphanages. Not reasonably normal people looking to make a few changes in life.

So many emotions bubble over with the sale of a home.

I think I’m okay with moving in thirty days if the buyer wants. I think I’m okay with leaving the Japanese Maple and River Burch, two beautiful trees I’ve managed not to kill these last ten years. I think I’m okay leaving the light fixtures we went over budget on. I’d like to say I’m okay leaving here and going…Oh wait, we have no idea where we’re going.

I’m not one to cling to my stuff (there’s that word again), but lately it has been difficult to loosen my grip. To let go of the excess frying pans I’ve collected over the years, the chandeliers on dimmer switches, the pergola built with the sweat of Uncle George and my cousin, Josh.

And therein lies the problem with many of us. It’s this inability to let go that gets us stuck trying to take the car from second to third gear…as though everything we have at this current place in life is the best we’ll ever have. I say things like, “Here we go again. I’ve worked hard for this. You want me give it all up now?”

What careless faith. Don’t I trust Him to give me just what I need at just the right moment? Do you? Then why do we say things like: “I’ll do it…If You give me a better house; If I get that promotion; If I find that perfect spouse; If you fix my marriage. If not, all bets are off.”

Read this with me from Matthew 14:

Meanwhile, the boat was far out to sea when the wind came up against them and they were battered by the waves. At about four o’clock in the morning, Jesus came toward them walking on the water. They were scared out of their wits. “A ghost!” they said, crying out in terror.  27But Jesus was quick to comfort them. “Courage, it’s me. Don’t be afraid.” 28Peter, suddenly bold, said, “Master, if it’s really you, call me to come to you on the water.” 29-30He said, “Come ahead.” Jumping out of the boat, Peter walked on the water to Jesus. But when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, “Master, save me!” 31Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand. Then he said, “Faint-heart, what got into you?” 32-33The two of them climbed into the boat, and the wind died down. The disciples in the boat, having watched the whole thing, worshiped Jesus, saying, “This is it! You are God’s Son for sure!”

The part that strikes me is, “The two of them climbed into the boat, and [then] the wind died down.” Jesus, who had just walked on water and had already calmed one squall for His disciples, could have said, “Hang on a second, Pete. Let me take care of the storm before you start your journey.” But he didn’t. He called to Peter through the storm, as though Peter needed to learn that Easy Street is not the only open road.

Then he walked straight towards Jesus on the water. Maybe Pete, realizing the storm wasn’t letting up, got scared and decided he was more comfortable in the safety of the familiar boat. Do you know the kind of familiarity I’m talking about? That mediocre place where we get stuck doing it the way we’ve always done because we can’t fathom that there is anything better for us? It hardly seems possibly that God would call us out of our comfort zone, and still be ALL the provision we need.

“Courage!” He calls me by that name through the heavy downpour, so can he teach my faint heart how to maneuver through the wind. He gives courage when it’s time to move, time to change, time to let go. Just like he did for Peter, Jesus wants to show us that He is our sufficiency; but we have to be willing to take a risk—in courage and in faith.

Sometimes He says, “Go,” without giving you an address to log into Google maps. I know it’s risky, like you’re a blind man with no cane to tap the pavement, trusting completely in a still small whisper. But if God is in charge of everything, then He is also in charge of that storm. Some times He will take it out of your path, and some times He will tell you to slip on a life jacket and send you straight into the choppy waters.

I say it’s time to test the waters.