Longest Post: The End.

She fell asleep tonight holding my hand with a smile on her face. As I set there watching her, listening to the boys' breathing become sweet and slow, I could not help but feel overwhelmed with this work God has done. They have been rescued. God sent us here, brought them out of the darkness, set them in a family. The past two days have been full of kisses, good food, fun, discipline, and joy. They are learning what a family is, and they are happy.

I wanted each of you to know that we will come home with NO DEBT from our adoption. Because of the generosity of God's people, we can bring them home without that burden. The immensity of this fact is hard to state. This adoption cost well over $40,000 and God provided it. We are humbled beyond words by this fact. To see them today and to know that tomorrow they get on a plane and get off surrounded by people who love them, sacrificed to rescue them, prayed for them, and are ready to jump head-first into their lives can only be described as glorious. Because God did it friends, and he loves it!

This past week has been very hard for me. So many delays and waiting, and the fear of the unknown. How could I be afraid, you may think, when it is so obvious that God has been doing this all along? It's a good question that can only be answered one way- I am a wretched sinner who is constantly prone to forget, to wander, to rebel, and to fear. But friends, this thing we have been doing, this rescue, this is what God has done for me. He has taken this unlikely selfish woman, and made her the mamma of eight. He alone has given me the heart to do it, the courage to take each step, and the strength to make it moment by moment.

I was SO VERY reminded today of this reality. We finally had made it to our medical exam for the visas. This is the last, crucial step - fail and you don't go home. I had been given dozens of sets of papers by various people, all very important, all in Cyrillic. Lots of people had also rifled through them, mixing them up into a hopeless jumble. I set aside the court decrees and birth certificates in a special place in my folder to ensure I would not lose them. When we began the "paper-job" at the medical office, our facilitator asked me for the vaccination records. I handed him the medical records I had for the kids and he tells me there are no vaccination records for the boys. No records - no medical clearance - no visa - no home. Since this has not been the first time the team has messed up with our papers, I took a pretty high attitude and insisted that I had given them everything. "Let me look in your folder," he asked. NO. Stop treating me like I am an incompetent idiot. I had HAD IT. I didn't say it to him, but that's what I was thinking. I even told a friend there with us about it. Argh! They messed up again! He pleaded with me to look again as the team is frantically trying to figure out what to do on the phone, and WHAT DO YOU KNOW? I had them, in the folder with the court decrees. I don't think saying "I am sorry, I am an idiot" really made that much difference. Sorry everyone that comes after me for perpetuating the stereotype.

Gotcha day was intense. It began at 6:30 with a 1.5 hour car ride to the boys' orphanage. The time there was really touching. So many tears, so many pictures (the nannies'!), so many goodbyes. The boys are really loved by the people in their orphanage. I am so grateful to them for raising them for us these last 5 years. I know that is what everyone says, but in this case, it is deserved. They only let us leave after they were SURE we knew how to give the medicine "You won't forget?!?" and that we would Skype them soon and often. They even gave us really amazing baby albums with pictures and info about their whole lives. Made with love, truly. Kinda amazing that they are the only kids in the family with baby books. Yeah.

We brought them home and fed them, and tried for a nap. Picture screaming in terror. So, okay, no naps. I then just tried to entertain them with games, iPad, etc. This worked for a while. So, how about a bath? Joyful moment? Picture screaming in terror. That was Gus. Ezra knew what to do and tried to bribe him with candy, but the screaming didn't stop until he was out! Ezra is out to prove that he is an adult who can run the family, so he stripped and hopped right in. He even demonstrated how he was NOT SCARED of the faucet sprayer by putting it on his head while I was shampooing, thus soap in his eyes. Picture screaming in terror. Oh well, I still believed him.

Everett was out doing a "paper-job" and when he got back to stay with the boys, I went for Heidi. This was a totally different experience. We went into the directors office for "paper-job" and a nanny came to get the clothes to change her into (they own nothing, you have to bring clothes to take them home in). I asked to do it myself and was allowed (with huffy frowning). I went upstairs into her groupa where a nanny grabbed her and gave her to me. The look of relief on Heidi's face was telling. The nanny then showed me where to change her and began to pull her clothes off - all businesslike as though she wasn't a person. I was pretty mad so I told her to leave it to me, and she went off (with huffy frowning - they are all good at it there). I looked into Heidi's eyes and told her that NO ONE was going to treat her that way again and that her Mama WAS HERE NOW. She relaxed and I gently dressed her. She even smiled and laughed when she saw her pink boots! I felt obliged to say goodbye, so I went into the room where the nanny and kids were, and Heidi tensed up and almost started to cry. So we waved quickly, turned and never looked back.

I know this account may ruffle some feathers, and I am not trying to say her orphanage is bad. In fact, the director there is great and really loves the kids. Heidi loves him and laughed in his lap while we continued the "paper-job" for the next 75,000 hours. But this is the truth of Heidi's story. I know there was at least one kind nanny, but this girl in my apartment is malnourished, scared of that place, and transforming before my very eyes. To see her laugh at herself for hours in the mirror, to watch her begin to trust me to feed her with gentleness, to see her look up with sweet joy at her daddy playing rough with her brothers - well, it's amazing. She is already not the scared, sad little thing we met in December, and I am so grateful.

The drive home with her included her throwing up about 15 times all over everything. It was a long, intense, smelly ride and I put her in the bath AS SOON as we got home. Picture screaming in terror. Her brothers were amazed when they saw her. Guess we forgot to tell them that was why I was leaving! "Sestra?" they asked. Yes. And after that, pure love. I can not even describe how they have accepted and loved her. We had been told that this was a bad idea, bringing a DS child into a family with typical boys from EE, because they might persecute her. Not only did they totally accept her, the concern they showed for the skinny, screaming stranger was not something the most open-minded adult I know could have topped. They have looked out for her every minute since they met her. Picked her up when she fell, taken things away they knew she shouldn't have, alerted me to the constant "danger" that she is in (they know acceptable behavior, and rooting in the trash and pulling on the blinds is no way for a little girl to behave!!). I am awed by how God has knit this family together. They are perfect for each other.

Bathing the kids was bittersweet. They are not healthy. They look like they are starving, and Heidi has problems. I bet surgery is in her near future, and they all need to gain a lot of weight. I am feeding them a ton, and they eat it all, thank goodness. Green smoothies and 55 doctor appointments, here we come.

We spent the whole day today doing, you guessed it, a "paper-job". We couldn't help, but actually cheer out loud as we left the embassy today. Thank you God, it's over. Visas in hand means we are on the plane in, lets see, 8 hours. I did at one point today wonder if it would actually happen. No, not at the medical office, but later when Everett went out to buy new coats for the boys. I had two coats I got from a friend's goodwill pile, and when one broke, and the other turned out to be pretty much used up, Everett set out to buy new ones. I knew that no one could actually buy a coat in February in the south (clearance cleaned out after Christmas) so our only chance was here, where people sensibly still sell coats in the winter. After he had been gone for 3 hours (leaving the cell at home), I began to wonder. If he didn't come back, would I still leave in the morning? At what time would I call the police? What would I say "There is a missing white guy with a black coat in the city?" That would be EVERYONE. Have I mentioned that there are almost zero non-white people here? On our first trip back home, I almost hugged the first black lady I saw in Charlotte. I digress. Turns out he did come back, with coats, and I never have to tell anyone what I decided I would do.

We get picked up at 3 am for the airport. That means 5 people packed and ready. I will probably get in the shower around 1:30, and the dance party raging next door means I will probably still be awake then. If you read this before we set out, pray. 22 hours of travel, kids, me. That about sums it up. (So glad Everett is Everett and will be sitting at the back of the plane with the kids while I live it up in first-class.)

I want to thank each of you with all of my heart for supporting us, praying for us, caring about us, giving to us, and loving us through this adoption. God is awesome. I love his people and what we look like when we follow him. Friends, this God-thing we are doing, well, it's not just for crazy people, or really nice people, or gifted people. We are none of those things. Not even crazy, though people do tell me that all the time. It's for GOD'S people. We are all called to follow him. That means he will totally change you, your plans, your family, your comfort, your wallet, your everything. And it's good. It's worth it - the only thing actually worth doing. Don't waste your lives - spend them totally and completely and you will not be sorry.

I have no illusions that the next time in our lives will be easy. We left easy when we said "I do". But, God will be there. Suffering is not to be feared, and is the place to find the purest joy. Because he is there. Goodbye friends! I don't know if life will be a bloggy kind, or a desperate hanging-on-for-dear-life kind. But I will end with this: DO IT. GO THERE. If you are his, that means the place that you are scared of, but you know is the path of obedience. He will be there.