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The sky is green, and moving. And He says, Go to the window and sit down with Me. I want to talk to you.

I briefly protest – Don’t You know it’s 2am and I have six kids and I’ve been sick for five days? And He says, Yes. Go sit down and rest with Me. Catch your breath.

So we sit down, and we rest. I look out the window, watching the sky move, and start to breathe again. He listens to me rattle on about all the overwhelming-ness, all the family stuff, the internal issues with kids and adjusting, and the external stuff with family and friends and ministry, oh my. We are in a season of tumult and uproar and we’ve had more than one life-changing phone call in the past few weeks, and there is heartache and chaos outside.

I tell Him, Wave to me if You’re still listening, and the sky lights up. He’s right there. And He talks to me, and there is peace inside, and I know I’m only getting a few hours of sleep but there is a deeper kind of rest that is happening and it heals me, too.

He says, That person you love, that you thought felt badly toward you, that disparaged you? He doesn’t feel badly toward you. He feels badly about himself, and he needs your prayer desperately.

He says, That person who accused you…give that to me. It’s okay. You are not thinking too highly of yourself, You are thinking highly of Me. Someday they will understand that.

He says, Those days that feel messy and off-track, with cat puke and poopy diapers and broken dishes and temper tantrums – those are days that remind you that you are in a war. You chose obedience over sterility. Wars are messy, and must only be entered into with a great mission in focus. Remember your great mission.

After a while, I went to bed and woke up tired and tackled a new day anyway. There were messes and multiple bodily fluids, and there was one day last week when Reagan broke three dishes before we got one of those phone calls.

who stills the roaring of the seas, 

the roaring of their waves,

the tumult of the peoples,

so that those who dwell at the ends of the earth 

are in awe of Your signs. 

You make the going out of the morning

 and the evening to shout with joy.

 

 Psalm 65:7-8

 

 

Today, we’ve been home for six weeks. We’ve noticed that most people don’t really understand what’s really going on here, and I’ve had a hard time keeping track of who we’ve explained certain things to. But we are slowly coming out of our hermitage and finally (!) had friends over for the first time last week. Twelve at the table, and moms and dads and a baby in the living room.

Yes, that makes thirteen kids altogether. Yes, this is only two families. Yes, we have our own football team; No, it’s none of your business if any of us are “done,” and Yes, we know how this happens:Paperwork, and lots of it. Although the, um, *cough* organic way is more fun and usually much quicker.

 Today was the first time we went as a family to another friends’ house. We are watching our kids closely to see how they do with other people – how they interact with them, how they approach them, and how they look for attention from them. We are not allowing them to hug other adults (would you allow your kids to hug people who are perfect strangers to them?) and we are asking our friends not to pick them up, snuggle them, hold their hands, etc.

I know, it’s counter-intuitive; we all want to love them and make up for lost time. But they need to understand that love and affection comes from Mama and Daddy and not from every random adult they come into contact with. Boundaries are hard and fast. Mama and Daddy are not replaceable, we are here to stay, and you are stuck with us. For good, forever.

Because of this, we are not having babysitters or childcare for months to come, and we’re missing out on some big events that we would normally go to. Banquets and fundraisers are out, weekly classes or small groups will have to wait for next year, and I’m pretty sure that seeing The Hobbit in theater is out of the question (sob!).

Loved ones, well-meaning ones, tell us how glad they are that we are home and all together and done with this process. Somehow we have this impression that adoption ends at the airport and everything after is rosy and romantic and enchanting. Yes, and they come with a free unicorn, too, remember?

It is hard. It is not like having a baby, having twins, or adding two of your friends’ kids to your family.It is like adding thirty kids to your family, and constantly trying to figure out which two are showing up at any given time. It is like feeding eight new kids. It is learning to give a consistent love to someone who returns it with a finicky love. It is the battle to protect everyone and still allow freedom to grow and move. It is a war zone, and some days it really looks like it, too.

It’s messy stuff…but He is the first one to enter the battle, and He already won. What a deal.

 He breathes on us to do things all the time – big things like adoption, small things like sitting down with Him at 2am. He breathes on us to do things that are understood by some and misunderstood by others. The civilian details are not so important. If He is breathing on you to do something, go. Sit down and talk to Him. He has incredible things to say. And if you ask Him to wave…I think He will.