Heaven sent

You might remember, from With an Open Heart, that our local friends and faith community hosted a fundraising event in November of 2010 to help us bring Charlie home.

Our friends had also designed bracelets that were "tickets" for the event. They were green rubber bracelets that read "Think of Daniel."  I cried when they gave one to me.

Three and a half years later, I still wear this bracelet every day. 

About a month ago, I noticed that my bracelet had changed a bit. In fact, I realized that "Think of Daniel" wasn't even legible anymore from the years of wear. The words had disappeared totally. But I kept thinking--as I'd look down--that it didn't really matter if I could read those words or not. Because I know them in my heart.

This afternoon, I delivered Madi to my friend Carrie's house for a playdate with her daughters. You might remember reading about Carrie in the book, too. She is one of my most treasured sisters-in-Christ.

Madi knocked on the door, and as I was about to drive away once she was united with her friends, the girls came running out of the house toward the van shouting, "Here! My mom told us to give this to YOU!"

They handed me a brand new "Think of Daniel" bracelet.  How on earth did she know?

I'm certain The Holy Spirit must've whispered in her ear. And I believe Daniel knew that his Mommy needed a new bracelet.

Heaven sent.

Father's Day and the Holy Trinity

I didn't realize, until we'd hustled into Mass this morning, that it was a special day for more than the obvious reason of Father's Day.

The Most Holy Trinity. 

I took a minute to breathe it all in, and as we sang the Responsorial Psalm lyrics of "Glory and praise forever!",  I glanced up at the projection screen in shock.

The Psalm read, "Daniel 3; Most Holy Trinity, Year A"

Daniel.  Our son was called Home to Heaven on Trinity Sunday four years ago.

And even though it's the date of May 30th that we remember and honor his passing each year, Trinity Sunday is also so very meaningful to me, if not more so than the calendar anniversary. What a beautiful day to die, on the Holy day that honors the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit. Feels like a gift somehow.

I couldn't help but think about how interesting that Father's Day and Trinity Sunday coincided this year. That Daniel and Jimmy never shared a Father's Day together, yet Jimmy adored being his Dad every single day. And while Daniel couldn't be there to celebrate Father's Day with my husband today, he is living the ultimate Father's Day with God, our eternal Father.

I looked over at silly Charlie, who lies about the pew--and his parents--as if he's on his living room sofa, and Madi, who knows it all, or at last the half of it, and I thought about how blessed they are to have Jimmy as their loving Father.

My mind then traveled to China and thought of Joseph. This will be his last Father's Day without one, thank God. Next year, he'll celebrate, too, and he'll be right there in those pews with us as we praise the Lord.

Then, I thought about how truly blessed Jimmy and I are to both have our Fathers living with us here on earth, when so many of you don't. This is something I don't take lightly, nor do I take it for granted.

I've been feeling like an emotional rollercoaster today. Sad, because I miss him. Happy that he is where he is. And with a tear scattered here and there throughout the day, how can I not feel just completely blessed and joyful?  Especially as I "take stock" in all of it?

Thank you, our gracious and ever-loving God, for being the ultimate Father of unconditional love and forgiveness.

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life." -- John 3:16

Happy Father's Day.

The Other Side of Goodbye

Couldn't quite figure out why I've felt so grumpy lately.  I mean, I have no reason at all for any emotion short of pure joy. Everything has been working in our favor, it seems, and life is just so darn good, all glory to God. Our family is happy and healthy. Our adoption process is moving right along. And the Lord's abundance has surely shown up for us in the way of financial provision for our adoption.

But something has been gnawing at my heart. 

I worked in the kitchen this weekend, tidying up senseless details around the house, examining every negative thought and feeling, and then, suddenly, it emerged from my subconsciousness.

He died. And on May 30th, he's going to die all over again. 

We relive it each year, yet somehow it seems to get buried into the depths of our hearts and minds as we keep busy, though we know the day and time is closing in on us again.

Early Sunday morning, we attended a Mass given by a young Priest from the Seminary.  This man--this Holy man and a visitor to our Parish that morning--fed me the precise homily that my heart needed to hear.

He spoke, as the Feast of Ascension and Pentecost approach us, about New Life as a result of Jesus bearing His burden on the cross and giving His life for ours.

He talked about the mystery of "the other side of goodbye."

He shared the mystery of how God takes those experiences--those goodbyes--and shapes us through them. We all have them, but goodbyes take on different form and meaning in each of our lives. For some, it might be a departure to a new season of life, or a major change. For others, it's the physical loss of a loved one. He proclaimed that what happens as a result of "the other side of goodbye" is New Life. The resurrection and the promises of God are too strong to have it any other way.

I suppose I don't have to tell you what my "goodbye" was all about. And as this Priest sermoned about how the relationships are still there, just different, I felt joy in my heart. As usual, tears came, and I couldn't help but marvel, in all humility, at how God's stretched me in four years time. Because I know exactly what's taken place on the other side of my goodbye...

--a memoir of Daniel written with all of my heart poured into it, designed to help those who grieve, to help those who are called to adopt, and created to share a testimony of God's grace during the unimaginable.

--a much stronger love, in my heart, for the orphan. Our desire to help the least of these has only deepened, and through those depths, we strive to to make a difference in our son's memory.

--Charlie. Charlie Murphy. Would we have this crazy boy to love if not for Daniel?

--Joseph. Joseph Holt. He seems like just a dream to us now. We can only imagine what blessings will be born from answering this call. We hope and pray that love can pave a road to happiness and peace on the other side of his goodbye from all that he's familiar with. 

--a deeper faith. Perhaps this should've been first on my list. I am so thankful for the grace the Lord's given me on the other side of goodbye. I am so eternally grateful that He's cradled me in His arms to get me through the painful days. My faith has strengthened in this process. I'm so blessed that's He's shown me such goodness on the other side of my goodbye.

And when I think about what's on the other side of Daniel's goodbye, it's ALL good. He's in the best place ever.  I cling to that.

So, what's your goodbye?

Maybe it's time take an inventory of the New Life on the other side...

The Seed

Do you remember how all this started, this new chapter of our lives?

I sure do.  It began at a Mass back in December of 2012. I posted about it.

It was the Feast of the Holy Family. Jimmy and I had attended Mass by ourselves, and we listened to a beautiful homily about God, our Father, and His eternal love for us. His earthly family is our example, and our adoption into His family is our gift.

At various times during that Mass, I found my mind wandering about extending our family. It was not a subject that had come up in our house before.  And, in that blog post, I said this, "Jimmy loves to chime in that he will happily adopt another child...when we win the lottery.  In fact, Madi just questioned Charlie the other day about whether he wanted another baby in the house.  I had to remind my daughter that Mommy and Daddy are just a little too old, and tired, for another baby.  But we're not necessarily too old for an older child...a waiting child sandwiched right between Madi and Charlie. Is God, perhaps, asking us to open our hearts to the idea of another child?"

Interesting to me now that Joseph is indeed sandwiched right between Madi and Charlie...God knew.

The Holy Spirit acted quickly. Just days later, I posted about a lovely woman, who I'd met on Facebook and how she contacted me out of the blue and came to our house to buy the book. During our not-so-chance meeting, she divulged her desire to help families adopt orphans, and I shared that I had it in my heart to go back. A seed of possibility and hope was planted that very day by that very woman.

We were united by our son, Daniel.

The seed grew, and sprouted. As I prayed for Jimmy's change of heart, the roots spread and took a stronghold last summer. By fall, the idea was completely rooted in our hearts. Since then, the flowers have begun to bud, and we are full swing into the process. I promised Jimmy that God would provide for this adoption financially; that I would take on this burden, and that he would see how God makes miracles. Many of you have graciously helped and supported us in this endeavor of love. 

On Good Friday, after forty days of walking with our Lord and Savior to his death, He showed us goodness in His darkest hours. We received notification of not one--but two--generous adoption grants that day. We were brought to tears by His works, which brought us almost halfway into our fundraising goal.

Sunday, as you know, was Mother's Day. We'd had a busy week and weekend with Madi's First Holy Communion, and the festivities surrounding it. I hadn't had a chance to gather the mail on Saturday until late, so we tucked the pile away for Sunday's fresh eyes.

The next day, we noticed there was an envelope included in the stack. I knew the address instantly; it was from our friend whom I posted about. And inside was a card that read:

"We feel so blessed and our family has been so enriched with the adoption of our daughters from China. So many people comment that our children are so lucky. I know that the two of you and certainly, we, understand that we are truly the ones blessed by being allowed to parent these children. In fact, there are times I don't feel worthy of this incredible gift. As I had offered to Lisa last year and mentioned over the past few months, we have been looking at ways to help families adopt. Our goal, ultimately, is to help these beautiful children in orphanages find loving and secure families. We are happy to help a wonderful family such as yours to bring Joseph home. Please use the enclosed check to help in this wonderful new chapter for your family." 

On Mother's Day--and also the four-year anniversary of our Daniel's open-heart surgery--she and her husband provided one-third of our financial needs to help unite us with our son, Joseph.

And it all comes together because of His Son, Jesus.  Sometimes I don't feel worthy of this incredible gift either.

Friends, we are humbled by every bit of your love, every prayer for our son, every cent of your financial support, every ounce of your energy on behalf of the orphaned. Every single act of your kindness glorifies God, and we are so grateful for all of it.

I pray that if the seed is planted in you, you will clearly see how nothing is impossible with God.

Matthew 17:20 "He answered, 'Because you have so little faith. In truth I tell you, 

if your faith is the size of a mustard seed you will say to this mountain, 

"Move from here to there," and it will move; nothing will be impossible for you."

Seeing is believing.

Have you ever heard of orbs?  You've probably seen them before. They are curious translucent-white circles that show up unexpectedly in your flash photos. Orbs may appear in different sizes and can be captured alone or in groups. Some people believe that orbs are more than just particles of dust or drops of moisture on a camera lens.

Some believe they are proof of guardian angels captured on film. 

I took this photo of Charlie's room this week (for reasons that will soon be shared), and when I first glanced at it an hour ago, my jaw about dropped to the floor.

This was Daniel's room. This was Daniel's bed. That blue pillow was Daniel's pillow.

They say that when these "angel orbs" appear in a picture near a person, it is believed to be a sign of goodness, positive energy, and protection of angels.

And when orbs appear in a particular location, it's believed to be a sign that angels are hovering nearby and the location is particularly blessed.

Call me crazy, but I'm a believer in orbs...I always have been. And when I saw this picture today, I was in complete awe. As ludicrous as this sounds, it almost looks, to me, like there's a smiley face on that orb if you look really closely.

I believe Daniel's still with us. And now I see he is still in this house with us, too!

What are orbs? Chances are, you've probably seen them before--they are the curious translucent or solid circles (usually white) that appear unexpectedly in your photos. Orbs may appear in different sizes, as a single spot or as a multitude of spots grouped together.
Read more at http://www.beliefnet.com/Inspiration/Angels/2010/03/Angel-Spirit-Orbs-Pictures.aspx#GkiA6ZtZ1btiXpUL.99

His Transforming Grace

In all of our adoptions, this is the first time we've been at this stage of the process during the season of Lent, and I am finding that the timing is very appropriate.  The Living Liturgy says that "the heart of Lenten penance is the hard work of opening ourselves to God's transforming grace."

The adoption process, in ways, parallels a Lenten journey. 

It's in the preparing, it's in the seeking, and it's most definitely in the waiting...this arduous and painstaking "hard work" of waiting. When our patience is tried and worn thin. But even when patience is tested to the point where we can hardly stand it, His love and mercy are always unfailing, and His grace is, indeed, transforming. 

We can't celebrate the Glory of Easter, when Jesus rose for all our salvation, without first walking through the Stations of the Cross and Good Friday, contemplating just how immensely Jesus suffered and sacrificed to get us there. Fully digesting the fact that He gave His Life for ours. It makes me want to know Him more.

Like the Lenten journey, the walk of adoption ultimately strengthens my faith, and I am forced to lean on Him with complete trust and faith in His plan. That isn't always easy, but it's always right. I am sure that Joseph felt the same way when he miraculously became the foster father to Jesus.

And in a way, aren't we--as parents--giving our life over, too? As we hand over our complete trust in the Lord to reveal the child...who lives a million miles away in a foreign land, yet we will come to adore in our hearts without even touching their skin or ever hearing their voice? 

The very thought is joyfully overwhelming in a God way. 

Joy is defined as "the emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying; keen pleasure; elation."  I think it's safe to say that the highs of joy in this process far exceed it's dictionary definition. Because this joy is God-given; This joy is of the Spirit; This joy is life-giving and redeeming. 

The fruits of the Spirit are found in every step of the way--the referral that we pray for, that next approval we await, the travel that we long to plan, all for the child whom we love.

In the journey, there is much agony, but the blessings in the end are always worth it.

Thank you, Jesus, thank you. Without you, we are nothing. 

I pray that you continue to open our hearts to your transforming grace.

Psalm 33:20-22

"Our soul waits for the Lord; he is our help and our shield. For our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name. Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, 
even as we hope in you."

Living Lent

I was exhausted. Completely bleary-eyed and dazed. 

I look back now, and I realize that I didn't know if I was coming or going during those first months after Daniel came home. His nights were so restless, bless his heart. Ours were, too.

As my sister-in-Christ and dear friend, Carrie, walked towards me at the YMCA that day in 2010, I'd remembered--the minute I saw her face--that it was Lent. I was broken. It felt as if I'd failed Jesus.

"Oh my God!" I cried. "Carrie, I forgot all about Lent!" 

"Lisa," she said, "Don't you see that you are observing Lent?" "Don't you see that what you are doing to care for Daniel is the greatest sacrifice you can make right now?"

I felt relief--and peace--hearing her words. But I didn't see it. I didn't see sacrifice; I was just being a mom. And I was only doing what I needed to do for my son. 

Four years later, I see it all so clearly in retrospect. Still I see that I was simply being a mom, but now I recognize the sacrifice; I recognize how we were living Lent without even trying to intentionally give something up for the season. We never complained or grumbled about our desperate and worn-out walk. We just lived it.

I realize now how Jesus carried us through that one Lenten journey--the one that I couldn't see, yet was, undoubtedly, was one of the most meaningful in my lifetime. We are closer to Him now because of it.

And our hearts are so, so full.

Isaiah 40:31

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.