We Made It!!!!

Day One. 

The saga in which we struggled to get on a plane, and Satan struggled futilely against an all-powerful God, and we got to witness more miraculous events. And Satan lost. I mean, obviously, right? The word “futilely” implies that. But it’s fun to say it again. 

It’s 5:02am on March 18th, in Ethiopia right now. It’s 10:02pm on March 17th, in New York. So hello from the future!!!! :) Currently we are about two hours from landing. The flight has been good, with minimal turbulence. I’m grateful, because we had a heck of a time getting on this plane. But more on that later. I’ve been sleeping (as much as you can sleep on these flights, which is more like a semi-conscious game of trying to figure out how to get comfortable, which is impossible). I’ve got my headphones in now, and Abe and I just listened to “Matters” by For King and Country, because that’s my new favorite song. And I want to try and get a post going, to keep all you amazing people in the loop (if I have enough internet to post when I get there!). 

So yesterday. What a day. We made it to the airport at home with no issues, got through security, and went to our gate. Our flight was scheduled to be on time. We had our airport game plan ready: the kids pulled out their pizza goldfish crackers, and sat all around me. I turned on “Ninja vs. Ninja” (DUH, we basically only watch American Ninja Warrior now!!!) and we happily sat through the next hour. Our flight got delayed. No biggie. Then it got delayed again. Hey, it’s cool; we were flying to Newark instead of Dulles, and we had a six hour layover there, so we were still not panicking. We finally were called to board. Now we are EXPERT packers. We only bring carryons for our personal stuff. The only checked bags are donations and gifts, etc. And for our personal carryons, we use the smallest bags possible. Well, the kids went first, but the line to board got all held up, because the flight attendant wouldn’t let them on the plane. I made my way to the front, where she blocked the door with both hands on her hips. “You have to check these bags!” she informed me. I looked at the sign RIGHT. NEXT. TO. HER. The United policy sign. Stating one personal item and one carry-on. Olivia was first in line with a little backpack and a TINY purse. No joke. Another woman in line tried to enter the plane, but the woman stopped her as well and refused to let her in. The passenger argued with her; no avail. 

I pulled my kids to the side and took their backpacks. I tried to tie the tops together, because they aren’t sturdy backpacks and certainly not a great idea to toss them around with checked baggage, but we had to get on that plane. We were getting too close to our second flight and we had tons of security we would need to get through. I put the tags on their bags and got them onto the plane. While everyone was loading in, the attendant continued to literally harass passengers. I’ve never seen anything like it. Multiple people began calling the 800-United number to complain. Everyone was angry. 

We waited. And waited. When we finally began to taxi, an announcement came on the loudspeaker: there was a glitch with the plane and they were trying to fix it. They needed to restart the plane. So they stopped it, on the runway, and shut it down. Abe and I were sitting on opposite ends of the plane and texting each other. Time was getting low. The restart didn’t work. They restarted it again. 

Nada. 

They pulled back to the gate and de-boarded us. But because they had a mechanic in the engine checking on the plane, they couldn’t get anyone their bags, which were locked inside the checked area of the plane. 

Seriously. Satan was working overtime to keep us from flying. The delays, the plane being “dead” (exact words from the pilot), and then the fact that our bags were locked inside, so that we couldn’t even try to catch another flight. 

We got into the line of 50ish passengers at the United desk. Everyone was furious. I went and got the kids some Pringles and water ($20 for two tiny waters and two Pringles cans) and told them that it was okay, because of the plane wasn’t safe, then we wouldn’t want to be on it anyway. They were struggling to hold it together; they were really over-tired, stressed, surrounded by angry people, and we knew we were going to miss our flight to Ethiopia now. I prayed with them, and reminded them that God hadn’t gotten us this far for nothing. It was going to be okay. Then Levi reminded me that when Paul was in prison, he PRAISED God. So we tried to come up with a list of praises. 

-We weren’t getting on a dangerous plane. 

-God is bigger than any problem. 

-Even if we missed this flight, court is Tuesday. We could STILL make it on time. 

-We were together, stuck at our home airport, and not stuck in Newark or somewhere unfamiliar. 

-We could be a witness to people on how to handle the situation. 

I went back to Abe, who was still in line to speak to a United agent. The line hadn’t moved. We happened to look left, at another United flight. There was an agent and one person in line. A guy walked by and said, “Try over there—that lady helped me.” We had nothing to lose, so we went over. The woman was nice, but as we explained our situation, she shook her head. Her flight had been delayed due to maintenance as well (whatttttt???). But it was going to DULLES. But it only had one seat available. We shook our heads. She searched the computer for almost forty minutes. Finally she told us the only other option: come back tomorrow and take a 6am flight to Regan International, get two taxis, and  drive to Dulles, and take the ONLY flight left to Ethiopia, the 11am (that we normally take). We had her hold the tickets for us (she had to do them individually, as there were only seven seats left on the plane, and they were spread out everywhere). She told us that when we got our bags back, and had confirmation that we definitely weren’t flying tonight, to come back and she would get us new tickets and travel vouchers for two taxis. 

Basically we were at the airport until 8:30pm waiting to get our bags back. I promised the kids DiBella subs to compensate for their hunger and disappointment. Catherine came to get us and Abe went to finish getting new tickets while the kids and I grabbed our bags. We got dinner, went home, ate, and went to bed. 3am came quick, and we got up and went back to the airport. We were flying American Airlines this time. But at the desk, the guy wanted to see our Ethiopian visas. He put them in the computer and told us we were good to go. United hadn’t done that. Maybe it was a good thing we hadn’t flown them. We made it to our gate and boarded with no trouble. 

And the loudspeaker announcement happened again. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry, but there’s going to be a bit of a delay. This plane’s computer isn’t working correctly. We are going to get it fixed and get going as soon as we can.”

Natalie started crying. Abe was texting me from the back of the plane, “Whaaaaaat??? Not again?!?!” And I was thinking, “Satan, Imma punch you in your fricking face!!!”

Different airline. Different plane. Different day. Same problem. 

We prayed. Waited. Waited. 

Time was running out to catch our connection. 

And the plane moved. At that point, I wasn’t sure it was safe to BE on it, but I almost didn’t care. We were GOING. We flew into Regan. Abe ran for the vouchers and the kids and I ran for our checked bags. They were the first four bags (in a ROW) to come out on the luggage belt. Then we all ran outside to the taxi area. There were two taxis waiting (we needed two taxis) and we threw our stuff in and jumped into them. My driver was Ethiopian. We started driving and I started talking to him in Amharic. He freaked out and we spent the trip chatting it up in Amharic while he laughed and laughed because he couldn’t believe I could speak him language. I showed him my Amharic tattoos and he was dying. 

We made it to the airport. Abe and I gave each other the look: we might not make it in time. We went as quick as we could, and because this is our bajillionth time at Dulles, we knew right where to go. At the security ticket check, all our tickets beeped red. Denied. ALL OF THEM. I looked at the guy, who looked like he was too tired to deal with us. He frowned and looked at our tickets, then our passports, and then back again. Then he shrugged, wrote something, and handed them back to me, while waving us through. We didn’t ask twice. Just ran to security. The kids were bomb, we were ripping off sweatshirts and shoes as we went, and we busted through in the fastest time ever. Then we darted for the train. Got off at our terminal. Speed-walked though 31 gates, and arrived at the end of the boarders. Boarding had started at 10am; flight was at 11am. We jumped onto the end of the line at 10:37am. The kids stayed in line, Abe checked us in at the desk, and I ran to the nearest little food store and spent $52 on six small water bottles, five tiny bags of Chex mix and a little beef jerky. I ran back to the plane and we got on. We were spread out everywhere, because we had been squeezed onto the plane last minute. 

The woman to my right was Ethiopian, so being me, I started talking to her. Yessss, in Amharic. She asked me what I was doing, etc., and I gave her the two minute run-down. She said, “You’re too young!!!!” and then she asked if I had a boyfriend. I told her my husband was somewhere in the back of the plane. We turned and looked for him, and she said, “I’ll switch.” 

I stared at her. “Really,” she said. “You should sit together! I’m not traveling with anyone.” I leaned over and gave her a huge hug. And then she switched with Abe. 

So now, 13 hours after we boarded (and we are about an hour out), I am sitting here with my man. The sun is just starting to rise in Africa. The skyline is intensely orange and blue and red, and it’s a new day. And we are about to be in Ethiopia. Our favorite place. 

And we are going to see Micah tomorrow (Monday). 

God is good. 

All the time. 

When Fear Becomes Faith, Miracles Happen

Yesterday started out as a normal Tuesday. I went to work, went to ninja, and then ran a couple of adoption errands. We leave on Friday for Ethiopia, and everything was falling into place. We just needed our PAIR letter, which if you don't know, is a special letter that is an agreement between the Ethiopian government and the United States Immigration saying that the child to be adopted is truly classified as an orphan, and can enter the U.S. The PAIR process is a huge investigation on both ends of both countries and we received notice that we had passed PAIR two three days before we received our court date. The PAIR letter is sent through the mail, so we had been waiting for it to arrive. Monday afternoon I had called USCIS (immigration) and left a voicemail for my case officer, inquiring about the status of our letter, as it had not arrived. The PAIR letter needs to go to Ethiopia with us, and be given to the Ethiopian court/embassy, so basically, without it, we can't travel. And can't have a court date. 

You already know where I am going with this, don't you?

Around 11am yesterday, I received an email from our immigration officer:

"Dear Ruper Family,

Your PAIR letter is currently pending approval of your Form I-600A update. Once I receive confirmation of payment of Olivia's biometric fees, I will enter her information into the system for scheduling. It can take the Dallas Lockbox approximately 2-3 weeks to send confirmation of payment after it clears. So once you see it clear your financial institution, you may either screen shot it, or attach a copy of the cancelled check and send via email. It must be cleared, not pending, show the Lockbox information, amount, and have either your name or your spouse's name on the screen shot. 

Once I am able to issue the updated 600A approval, I will issue the PAIR letter."

Insert. Panic. 

#1. I had paid Olivia's fees weeks ago. Why didn't they have record of it? The check had been cashed on March 7th.

#2. We didn't have our PAIR letter. We can't have a court date without PAIR. And we had already paid for flights, totaling $11,000, and were booked to leave Friday. 

#3. Ethiopia is closed to adoptions. We can't be rescheduling court. 

#4. Fingerprinting with immigration requires requesting an appointment, waiting weeks to get an appointment letter, driving 1.5 hours to the office, and then waiting a few weeks for the clearance letter for that. So five weeks absolutely minimum. 

We didn't have five weeks. We had three days. IF we were over-nighted the approval letters. 

I tried to breathe. I pulled up my bank account and found the completed transaction. But when I clicked on the check image option, and error message occurred. I tried again. No luck. Trying to not freak out, I scrolled down to multiple other check transaction and clicked on the electronic scanned images. All of them immediately pulled up. All but the one for the biometrics fee. I called Abe and had him try it on a computer, since I was on my phone. He got the same error message. I asked him to send me screen shots of everything he could, including the error message. Apparently, since it had been processed as an electronic transaction, the physical check had not been scanned into the system. I called Olivia, who was home, and asked her to send me photos of my carbon copy of the check. Then I attached all the images (at this point, like 10 screen shots, proving we had paid, that it was my account, and that it had been cashed) to my officer.

And then I called immigration. 

I held on the line for what seemed like an eternity before my officer answered. Now over the years, we have probably had six different officers on our case. Praise JESUS, this one had been with us for about two years, although we almost never even have contact with them. They answered and I blurted out out the situation in one breath. I was trying not to yell at them (it's not THEIR fault) and I was trying to be clear and make sense....but instead I started to cry, while begging them to help us. 

I could hear the sympathy in my officer's voice. "Don't panic!!! Please, don't panic. Listen, I know your case. I know it very well. Look, I am going to talk to my supervisor and see if there is something we can do, okay?"

We hung up and I sent out SOS prayer texts to the kids. I told them, "Guys, this is SO important. Pray. PRAY. We need a miracle right now." Then I emailed our agency, freaking out and begging for help. They responded almost immediately, with concern and worry....and with the terrifying realization that they had no power in this situation and could not help us. There was nothing they could do. Olivia had to be printed (againnnnnnnnnn), before we could leave, and we HAD to get the letters, or no Ethiopia, no court, no Micah, and a LOT of lost $$$. I knew they were afraid and upset for us, but they were helpless. 

I called Abe and tried to explain what was going on. And then I lost it on the phone and started bawling. I RARELY lose it, but I was starting to freak. I hadn't slept more than 2-3 hours a night for the whole week, the kids emotions have been everywhere with the reality that we are returning to Ethiopia (so many positives, so many negatives; another story, another time), and everything was going down the drain. Poor Abe was trying to calm me down (he's not used to me losing my crackers), and he had to get off the phone for a work meeting. 

I hung up, and my fighter instinct kicked in. Crying was not going to get me anywhere. I had stuff to do. God was bigger, God knew what was going on, and God was going to fix this. I had to pull it together. And I had to show my faith NOW.  And I knew I needed to give God the glory and honor and power NOW, and call on Him to get us out of this mess. So I sent the agency a quick email. 

"God has got this. It will be okay. I started crying for like two seconds on the phone, but that's dumb. God got my baby this far; He's not done. Hugs to you all. "

Then I started praying again. 

An hour passed. My phone rang, and I scrambled to answer the private number that I knew would be my USCIS officer. 

"Marissa? What's your availability?"

"Anything. I will do anything. I will go anywhere."

"Listen, I'm here with my supervisor. There is an opening in _______ (a town) today. Can you get there? they have a 3pm opening."

(I was already putting my car into gear). "YES!"

"Okay. Go and get Olivia printed. The results can take up to 48 hours, but I am here until 5pm, so I will start checking every 30 minutes or so after 4pm to see if they happen to come through early. What I am going to do is email you a special appointment letter. You're going to need to download an encryption software and decode and print the letter and take it with you. IF we get the results early, and I can see, them, we are going to make an exception for you. We are going to encrypt and email you the approval letters for your PAIR and I-600A and then mail the actual ones as soon as we can. You will need the encryption software to download the electronic copies and print them. We never do this, but my supervisor is giving me permission and we are going to take care of you, okay? We will get this letter."

I started crying again. "Thank you!!!! Thank you, thank you thank you!!!"

"It's no problem. Everything is going to be okay. Go to the appointment."

I texted Catherine (my sister-in-law). I told her I needed to take her car (mine is broken) and that I was dropping off two of my kids so I could take Olivia to the appointment. It was 12:30pm. The appointment location was 1.5 hours away. I drove home, grabbed the kids, switched cars, and Olivia and I took off. We made it to the immigration office, and got through security with no trouble. It was 2:30pm. We sat in the waiting area, and then the man who does the printing walked by. I told Olivia, "That's the guy who printed Levi last year! He's super nice," just as he turned and saw us. He asked me, "Do I know you?" I told him I had been there the year before with Levi, and maybe that was why he knew me, but he shook his head. "No, it's your face," he said. "I remember your face. Hey, do you want to come in now? I'm free."

We were done with her prints in five minutes. Obviously, we went to Starbucks to celebrate and caffeinate before driving all the way home. The entire trip we checked my email every five minutes. When we got home, I started packing, because I couldn't sit still. An hour passed. It was almost 5:00pm. The girls turned on a worship station on Pandora and suddenly a song came on, the lyrics catching my attention and gripping my heart. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fMFwpUPi4Ag

                      Matter

All of the dreams that haven't come true
And all of the hurt that happened to you
It matters, I hope you know it matters

You felt the pain of a bitter defeat
Where the weight of the grief is more bitter than sweet
It matters, I'm telling you it matters

I started crying. This was for Micah. God was sending this song for my baby. He was speaking to me, sending me comfort, letting me know amid this crisis, Micah was NOT forgotten. He mattered. To the One who made the world and holds it in His hands. 

To the one who spoke and set the sun ablaze
To the one who stopped the storm and walked the waves
To the one who took the tree so He could say
You matter, I hope you know you matter

I know it's not easy, not saying it's fair
But close as a prayer somebody cares
You're a treasure, I hope you know you're treasured

So hold your head high, wait for the dawn
Keep hanging on, your sadness will turn into laughter
Watch it turn into laughter, yeah

My email dinged. 

To the one who spoke and set the sun ablaze
To the one who stopped the storm and walked the waves
To the one who took the tree so He could say
You matter, I hope you know you matter
You matter, heaven knows you matter

USCIS. Two coded attachments. The letters. 

So let the water spill from your eyes
Let it wash the wounds of those lies
Oh, let the water spill from your eyes
All that you are, all that you'll be
Someone put the beat in your heart so that you'll see
You matter

I was bawling again. 

To the one who spoke and set the sun ablaze
To the one who stopped the storm and walked the waves
To the one who took the tree so He could say
You matter, I hope you know you matter
You matter, heaven knows you matter
You matter, I hope you know you matter
You matter, heaven knows you matter 

The girls ran in and we cried together. And listened to the song. Prayed and thanked Jesus for his faithfulness and care for our family. 

And printed those letters. 

An email from the head of our agency twenty minutes later:

"Marissa, You must have a direct line to heaven! I'm shocked that you pulled this off in ONE DAY! CONGRATULATIONS!!!"

This was all God. ALL of it. No one else could have ever gotten this 6-7 week process done in FIVE hours. My heart is so full. This was a miracle that will forever awe me. 

“I am the vine, you are the branches: He that abides in me, and I in him, the same brings forth much fruit: for without me you can do nothing. ” — John 15:5.

 

COURT DATE FOR MICAH!!!!!!!!!!

How is it that I am even writing this?

After 7.5 years, it almost doesn't feel real. It's strange to type these words; words that have been waiting to explode from my fingers...words that mean my SON is coming HOME.

WE HAVE A COURT DATE!!!!!!!!!! March 20th, 2017, Micah Jackson will legally, officially, permanently, FINALLY, become a RUPER.

We leave March 16th. We fly to Ethiopia, and we will visit family, friends, and of course, the star of our story, Micah. After court, I am taking custody of Micah. He will come back to our hotel with us. And then on the 22nd, Abe and the other kids will fly home. Micah and I will be waiting together to clear embassy. Our agency is guesstimating two weeks; please pray that they are right!!!

In the meantime, we made a fundraising video, to help with the final costs of this specific journey...please share it!!!! <3


https://www.gofundme.com/micahruper

Olivia, Part 1

*Written in April 2017....Olivia has been with us for two years  currently. This post was written last year.* 

Once upon a time, my daughter needed me. 

Correction. My DAUGHTERS. 

In February, 2014, I flew to Ethiopia for Natalie. She was having a rough time waiting for us, and I wanted to show her that she was LOVED. No one could communicate with her; reassure her that wee were coming. So I went. Physical proof that we cared. Enough to pay thousands of dollars and fly halfway across the world. 

I remember that day. I was tired from travel, sick, dirty, and exploding with the anticipation of meeting my daughter. I stepped out of the van, and a horde of children immediately surrounded me, latching onto my arms, chattering away in Amharic. One big girl caught my eye; she shyly glanced at me from the outskirts of the group, gently smiling and casting her eyes downward. 

I was shuffled to the front of the building where I met Natalie. I have a post about that day, that moment. Go back and read it. But know, that as with almost everything I post, there is so much more to the story that I cannot share. 

Today I am sharing another small piece. 

That first day, while Natalie clung to me and we began bonding, the sweet girl from outside the van followed me everywhere. She held my arm, and kept whispering, "Mom. Mom," and something about her face and manner stopped me in my tracks. I don't know what it was. All the kids were clinging to me and calling me mom. But something about her was different. I was drawn to her, wanted to know more about her. I fell in love with her. On the spot. Best of all, she and Natalie were friends, and even had a little communication system going on. 

I emailed Abe that night. "Babe, there is another teenage girl here that we HAVE to adopt. I LOVE her! Please, we have to!"

Because Ethiopia is eight hours ahead of the U.S., he was asleep when I sent the email and then left for my second day at the orphanage. Once there, I immediately inquired about the shy, beautiful girl, who held my hand and followed me everywhere. I was told that she was not available and would be going to America soon. 

Once, as she was staring at the pictures in my phone, clicking through each one, she came across a picture of Micah. Her face lit up, and she excitedly started saying his Amharic name, followed by a stream of sentences I could not understand. I managed to figure out that she had been in the orphanage with Micah for several years before moving into the location Natalie was at. I told her in Amharic, "Micah is my son." and she grinned at me.

As the week progressed, so did my love for this girl. She spent every moment with me, calling me "Mom" every chance she got. I finally had to push her away because poor Natalie was jealous of all the attention the girl was giving me. 

The day I left Ethiopia, the girl cried. I cried too. For both her and Natalie. When I returned a month later for Natalie's court date, the girl was by my side. I left. We cried. On embassy, the last day, when Levi, Z, and I got in the van for the last time, the girl was sobbing. She had made me a beautiful bracelet that I knew must have taken hours, and as she stood outside the van in an ocean of tears, I felt my own eyes welling up again. Inexplicably, my heart was being torn to shreds. I ripped off the ring I was wearing and gave it to her. "I LOVE you," I whispered, and hugged her hard. The last thing I remember was her tear-stained face, heartbroken and alone, as the gate swung shut and locked. And something inside me died. 

Fast forward a year and a half. I had followed the girl's journey. I won't go into detail, but I watched from afar, always checking in. I loved her from a distance, prayed for her, hoped she was okay. 

Last year, after a series of events that will never be told (things lined up only by God), I received a call, asking me if I wanted to be her mother. 

I never even hesitated. (So much that I said yes without even calling Abe.) There were so many factors, so many reasons to say no. It would put Micah at risk. Our agency would drop us. We didn't know her. She'd been in America a year and a half. She had a lot of issues. But it was never a choice. Never an option. She had always been my daughter. Subconsciously, I had always known it. I had always loved and wanted her. She belonged with me. And so she came to be with us. 

The girl who came to me was not the same child I had known. Life had not been kind, and her walls were a fortress of bricks and stone. These kind of walls cannot be torn down. They cannot be scaled. The only way through them is to come, every day, offering love, giving love, proving love. 

We went through hell the past year. HELL. Adoption is born of brokenness. And my girl was shattered. 

So we loved her. We loved and we gave and Jesus pulled us through. No walls are too great for Him. His love always wins.  

And slowly, ever so slowly, the drawbridge to her heart reopened. Minuscule inch by minuscule inch, the girl returned to me. And I fought for her. Fought for her love, her heart, her trust, her life. 

Now she sits next to me, watching me write this. She smacks on her gum and leans over my shoulder, reading my words. I look into her beautiful face, and my heart bursts with love for her. This girl was always meant to be mine, and I will always love her with everything I am. 

Olivia Rose, you are loved more than you can ever know. 

And Then There Were Four (At Home)

*This post was written in February of 2017. Again, trying to fill you in on the crazy things that have been happening to us.*

So much has happened since I last wrote. Our story keeps taking twists and turns that I could never have imagine....leading us places we never dreamed we'd go. Sometimes we hate where it leads us; we don't know if we can get through it. But by His grace, we always do, and the other side is amazing. 

Micah CLEARED. I can't even believe I am writing this. He CLEARED. After six and a half YEARS, the impossible has happened. My son is FREE. It feels surreal, and sometimes I wonder if I will wake up and be back in the same old nightmare.....where he is stuck and nothing I do helps. But it's not true. He is clear and he is waiting and I can BREATHE. I have been smothered, crushed by the weight of it all, felt it slowly crushing the life out me. But now I can finally heave a sigh of relief and thankfulness. My baby is coming HOME!!!!

I wish I could catch you up on everything that has happened. The steps of faith and the mountains that have had to be moved. But so much cannot be told. So much will forever be treasured in my heart, guarded for the sake of my children. And yet I want to scream it from the rooftops: OUR GOD REIGNS!!!!!! The trials we faced this last year were the hardest we have seen yet. The stress level on our family in so many areas was unbearable. The very foundations of everything we stood for were tested. Acts of faith that seemed ludicrous have brought blessings in abundance. The more we are trusting, the more God has shown Himself. He has a plan, and He can work everything for good. EVERYTHING. It doesn't mean it will be the way you want it; that you won't suffer. But He can make beauty from ashes. 

This year God called us to something, that, like Abraham, required a sacrificial lamb. And that lamb was Micah. I begged and pleaded with God, sobbed endlessly into my soaking pillow, begging Him not to ask this of us. I knew what we had to do. I knew what we were going to do. It was never a question. But everything was so contradictory. Nothing made ANY worldly sense. And in order to follow God, I had to, for lack of a better explanation, put my son (who I was also called to) on the line. Who did I love more? God, or Micah? Who did I trust more? Was I willing to give up Micah for what God was asking. While the answer was yes, I cannot say that it happened without me screaming and sobbing and feeling like I was dying. Alone in my car, I screamed and cried. Not in anger. Not in rebellion. In confusion and hurt. But I trusted. I followed. Because everything the past six years had been leading up to this, literally, and I knew what I had to do. And while I did it, my heart burst from the pain. 

But God had a funny way of being able to heal and to raise the dead. And He did. He took a situation that was final, and laughed at it. Final? He is GOD. And if He is for us, who can be against us???

No one. That's who. Singlehandedly, God erased my careful plans and built them into something different. Something beautiful. Something that included adding yet another child to our family. 

I love my family so much. Like, there are no words to describe, no way to express just how much they mean to me. Sometimes I fear I love them too much; that I have made them an idol. I try not to; try to keep Him at the head of my heart. But I was also made to love my people, and I would die for them, die of love for them every single day. 

Tonight, I'm sitting in a giant metal bird, gliding over the night clouds. Flying again, for one of my babies. But for this baby, things are different. It's a different fight for her, but has been no less difficult. 

Today, the girl who sits next to me leans into my shoulder and clasps my hand in hers. She gives me a squeeze and a gentle smile, and then looks out the window at the colors painting the sky a brilliant scene of warm hues. 

This child is a survivor. Ten months ago she re-entered my life as my daughter. She has been hurt by life in ways that most people cannot even comprehend; yet today, as we do something that should be terrifying, she and I have perfect peace. We are happy. This girl, whose smile lights up my world, whose love of learning amazes me, whose laugh fills me with joy, she sits here bravely, by choice, giving me her trust. She trusts me with her LIFE; trusts me to take care of her and keep her safe on this journey, and every other one that awaits us. She has experienced so much pain and loss; yet she has opened her heart and entrusted it to me; and then enormity of that responsibility both awes and humbles me. I don't deserve her, this child of unbelievable heart and strength, of knowledge and kindness. I have loved her from the day I met her, almost exactly three years ago, when I messaged Abe and told him I wanted her as our daughter too. I love her, I adore her, I don't deserve her. She has taught me so much, about love, and life, and parenting. 

As good parents, we stress about raising our kids. At least, I do. I worry that I am doing everything wrong, not giving them enough, giving them too much, ruining their futures. I fear for what the world will throw at them, wonder who they will marry, question if I have taught them enough. How can I be better? How can I ease their way, these precious babies who have been through far too much in their short lives?

As I sit here on this plane, my beautiful princess wrapping me in a hug, I realize that everything will be okay. I don't deserve these kids, it's true. They aren't mine. They are God's. They are in HIS hands. And for whatever reason, He has blessed me with the gift of being their mom. Whatever happens, everything will be okay, because He loves them far more than I do. Maybe I don't know how to raise them. Maybe I am doing it wrong. But my job is just to do my best. To follow Him. To love them. Unconditionally. Love them and teach them about Him, and He will watch over them. They are His, and I am just blessed to be given the job of a lifetime; being their mom. And I am so so grateful. 

MICAH JACKSON'S REFERRAL!!!!!

*This post was written 1/13/17....with as complicated as our adoption processes have been, and the insane miracles that have happened, we are almost never able to publicly share what has been happening in our lives. Our story is no longer our own; it is intertwined with so many others, and with that comes a responsibility for privacy and respect for them. We also have soooooo many miracles and crazy turns of events, but for a million reasons, we can't share. Someday we hope to. In fact, today alone I am publishing three posts to backfill and catch you up a little bit.*

Seven years ago, we started the adoption process. Six years ago, I found "one" deaf boy. Which, long story short, turned out to be TWO little deaf boys: Levi and Micah. We hadn't seen their faces, but God told us they were BOTH ours. We were told by agencies and governments that both were un-adoptable. We were told they would NEVER clear. We fought anyway, tooth and nail. A year passed. Then two. Zahria entered the scene. Our agency dropped Micah. We were sick. What was God DOING???? He had TOLD us that both boys were ours. We had followed Him. And now what???

Before leaving Ethiopia for the second time, we were able to meet Micah. And then we had to leave him behind. I was desperate. We got home, and started making calls and fighting again. Barrier after barrier, mountain after mountain. 

A year later I was in Ethiopia again, but for Natalie. Six months after that, Levi, Z, and I went for Natalie's court trip. We spent extensive time with Micah, and fought for him fiercely. The kids went with me and sat through hours of waiting, of discussions, of pleading with officials. A month later, the three of us returned and did it again. Every time we left Micah, it felt like I was dying. Nine months after Nat came home, I flew for the 6th time to Ethiopia, with the sole purpose of getting Micah's clearance. I spent two weeks chasing paperwork, signatures, meeting officials, and pleading his case. I got three signatures. We still needed two more. When I left Ethiopia without my son, I was hysterical. 

It's been 21 months since I left. This past year our family had some big changes. Changes that we did not expect, but that we are so grateful for. Changes that only God could have foreseen. 2016 was our biggest test of faith and the year we started to finally understand a small part of what God was doing. Pieces that are interconnected in ways that blow my mind began falling into place. And we got one of the signatures for Micah. 

I have spent every day this year begging God. Every night I have cried for my son. Every opportunity I have called, emailed, showed up in person, and fought for my baby. 

Lately, it has felt like my fight was dying. I have been so heartsick. Fighting, yes, but I am like a soldier who is so wounded on the battlefield that they can only crawl forward. 

I haven't Skyped with Micah for a year. Until last week. Last week I looked on my child's face, and for the first time, I saw that he had given up. That he didn't believe me anymore. That he didn't think I was coming for him. 

It. wrecked me. Destroyed the remnants of my heart. Shattered me on the inside. I had promised this child that I would not leave him, I had given everything, and he was still on the other side of the world. And he no longer trusted me. I felt like I would die. 

On November 29th, 2016, I was told we had the final signature. He had CLEARED. We didn't say anything to anyone, as this journey has been so up and down that we couldn't emotionally believe the news. A few weeks later, we were told it was the wrong signature. It was investigated. January 5th, 2016, it was confirmed. He had federal clearance. We were so happy but cautious. We didn't have a referral, and it has been SO. LONG. It didn't feel real. 

Yesterday was tough. I have friends in the hospital. My mom had an emergency surgery with complications (she is okay!), and my kids had a tough day. Some stuff I have been waiting for has to be postponed, and I was sick as a dog from my medical crap. Last night, I crawled into bed and I started crying. I was SO. TIRED. 

And then I got an email. THE email. Micah's official referral. The one I was told we would never get. Never see. The impossible referral. The MIRACLE. 

I started bawling. I cried and I cried and I cried. Because GOD DID IT!!!!! God did the impossible, He moved the mountains, He has FREED MY SON!!!!!! People, MICAH JACKSON IS COMING HOME!!!!!!!! When? I don't know. Court, embassy....probably looking at 6-12 months before he is home. 

Thank you to every person who has prayed for us, believed in us, supported us, and loved us through these past seven years. You are our lifeline, and we love you. THANK YOU, from the bottom of our hearts!!!!!!

Micah's Ethiopian name means "lion". His sign name that we gave him is derived from the sign for "lion". I have a tattoo on the back of my neck in Amharic that means "lion". The name Micah means "Who is like God?" This child's names could not be more perfect. He is a miracle. Only God could do this. Only GOD. 

It doesn't feel real. It's been SO long. It's hard to wrap our minds around it. 

WE HAVE OUR REFERRAL FOR MICAH JACKSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!