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I’m thrilled to deliver the first of what I hope will be many adoption stories here at the blog. On every Friday in the foreseeable future, guests will post here about their experience with foster care and adoption. It’s a lifestyle I have watched my sister, Sharalee Halvorsen, and her husband Ben dive into feet first. They’ve taken in two children in eight months (in addition to the four children they already had). I hope you’ll enjoy their story and Shar’s perspective on adoption.

* * * * *

“We have a mama due in 3 weeks with a baby girl. And we were wondering if you could be the family she is looking for?”

Private adoption.
An option that for some reason had never been in our radar. A long year pursuing an international adoption only to have to pull our case when things got a bit messy. Foster training nearly complete but feeling like we still had such a long way to go. We were confused and unsure as to where our baby was,
a baby that already felt like ours, yet never had a face.

24 hours after receiving the first email from a friend we were sitting across from the mother, listening to her story.
Disbelief that someone so young could have been through so much.
Hurt.
Abuse.
Abandonment.
She wanted her baby girl’s life to be different.
She wanted it to be filled with love,
acceptance,
laughter,
security.

24 hours later she was signing the forms that confirmed we were the ones.

3 weeks later we got the call.
Everything felt surreal. Walking into the hospital room is a moment I will never forget.
Mama was yelling. She felt alone and was scared.
Curtains and blankets hung to ensure she made no connection with the little one she had just brought into the world.
All I could hear was sweet baby girl’s cry. She felt alone and scared.
Curtains and blankets hung to ensure no connection with the only mama she had ever known.
And I stood there wondering my part in all of this.
I wanted to run.
She didn’t want me. She didn’t cry for me.
She wanted to be placed on her mama’s chest. She wanted to be close to the only voice that was familiar.
But in that moment I realized that things don’t always work out they way they are intended.
The situation wasn’t ideal.

~
90 minutes.
An hour and a half.
That’s how long we had to prepare for baby boy.

9 days old. So fragile and small.
The scene in our kitchen was surreal, and it is a moment in my life that I will never forget.
We were strangers yet instantly bound by the common paths we were walking and the treasure they were entrusting us with.
The couple had dreamed of their first baby,
longing to love him and give him all they had,
and now they were here handing him to us because the circumstances had changed.
chances were they weren’t going to be able to keep him
lies
deceit
so many things out of their control
birth parents playing tug of war
with the baby right in the middle.

They held him
cried,
said their goodbyes,
and walked out.

And we stood in our kitchen, staring at this little baby boy
helpless
alone
vulnerable.
We knew nothing about him
how often he ate
his schedule
Was he scared?
What were the pieces of his past, his story?
We didn’t know him.
And for a second
I wanted to run.
Deep down I knew that it was impossible not to fall for this baby that had landed in our kitchen.
I knew deep down that it was going to be torture for our four other kids if we had to say goodbye.
And now, four months later,
I know the weight of the loss we would feel if he were to go.
It would be more than I could possibly handle.

It doesn’t make sense. This isn’t the way it was supposed to work out.
~
When things are in limbo with my babies
fear
anxiety
worry
are ever present.
We walk each day with a weight on our shoulders
some days the weight is lighter
but it’s still always there.
Last week as we talked through the latest developments with baby boy,
I could feel my chest tightening and anxiety setting in
trying to figure out how this was going to work out.
I looked at my husband,
hardly able to get the words out
and I said “Why would we ever do this again?
It’s just too hard.”

“Someone has to.”
That’s all he said.

It would be so much easier to run.
When things don’t make sense,
when things aren’t working out the way they are supposed to,
when things are less than ideal.
Sometimes I wish we weren’t that “someone”.
Sometimes I wish I could just walk away
and not feel anything
but to be honest
with each baby that has been brought to our home
my feeling couldn’t be more opposite.
Looking at our baby girl and baby boy
there is only one thought that consumes my mind

One more.
We can love on one more.

I wonder how many times in the past I have made a decision based on the thought that if it’s
hard or painful
if it doesn’t make sense
then surely it isn’t right.
I wonder how much I’ve missed out on because of that thought.

Thank God I didn’t miss out on my babies…

* * * * *

You can check out Sharalee’s blog HERE, as well as her beautiful photography HERE.

If you’d like to submit a post for consideration, please email your 500-word story to shawnsmucker@yahoo.com. I’m looking for stories regarding a poignant moment in your foster or adoption process to post on a Friday.

There’s a silly little voice that will whisper into your ear and tell you that you aren’t there yet. You can’t possibly benefit anyone with what you are doing. Maybe someday, when you’re a bigger deal, but right now? You’re mostly nonessential.

Your platform isn’t large enough.

Your church isn’t big enough.

Your non-profit doesn’t have enough funding.

Your business doesn’t pull enough profit.

You haven’t been married for long enough.

You’re single.

You’re not old enough.

You’re not young enough.

In other words, you’re not there yet. Someday. Maybe. But not now.

* * * * *

I got a text the other day from a friend. It went something like this:

“I was just talking to a guy I work with. He said his wife reads your blog and it was the deciding factor that led her to agree with his dream of opening his own store.”

But I don’t have enough readers to influence that kind of meaningful change. My novel hasn’t been published. I don’t have a bestseller. Right? RIGHT?

* * * * *

Have you considered the thought that right now you are enough? Have you considered the thought that your

small church

small non-profit

small business

small blog

small book

small acts of kindness

are making big waves in someone’s life? Someone you don’t know or will never meet or will probably never hear from. Someone who needs the words you are writing or the good you are doing or the questions you are asking. Someone for whom your existence

is enough.

* * * * *

Believing this, how does it change the way you do what you do? How would you approach each day differently if you believed that a person’s life will be altered, in large ways or small ways, by the quality of the job that you do?

Your purpose in life isn’t out there somewhere, in that faraway land when you have 10,000 Facebook followers or sell 100,000 books or your church goes mega or your business expands or your non-profit has enough money to save all the children in the world.

Your purpose is today. Right now.

Whatever you’re doing, do it well.

That is enough.

* * * * *

Please come back tomorrow for the first installment of a new Friday series in which individuals involved in fostering or adoption share their stories. Trust me – you don’t want to miss it.

Some of you may have read my post on Friday about “Surviving the Worst Case (or, Finding a Stranger in Your Kitchen at 4am).” Basically I wrote about how God is with us even through what we consider to be the worst case scenario, and I told the story of a friend who discovered a man standing in his kitchen at 4am, covered in blood. The following is an email I received from that friend after he went to court for the man’s hearing:

I was summoned to appear at the preliminary hearing of the man who broke into our house that night…

I found myself a little nervous pulling up to the district judge’s office and I realized upon entering the tiny little office that I was again face to face with the man that I had found in the kitchen that night. I wondered early this week if I would recognize him when I saw him…I realized a split second after seeing his face that I did recognize him and that I was unlikely to ever forget it. I sat there and waited for my name to be called, unsure of what the process would look like and what would be required of me. My heart was to extend grace to this young man and encourage him in his journey.

After a while the assistant district attorney and the arresting officer called me outside. They explained what was going on and what charges were being brought against the young man and how he was someone with no previous record who had made some bad choices. They wondered if I would be okay if the charge was lowered from a felony of criminal trespass to some type of misdemeanor instead. It would mean avoiding a trial for the young man. I told them that I was happy to lower the charge and that I didn’t have any ill will toward the man and that I would sign off on the paperwork that they were asking about. The judge (who happens to be a good friend of mine) came out in the midst of our conversation and told the men that he wanted to see me when we were done.

So I went into the judge’s office and shared with him – previously I had wanted to avoid any type of conflict of interest for him, so I hadn’t discussed the details of the event…oddly enough he had just realized yesterday when preparing for today that I was the person whose house this had happened at. We had a great conversation – I signed the paperwork and thanked the Assistant DA and the officer for what they do and then I went to walk back through the narrow hallway past the young man who was still sitting there next to his father. Before I left I asked the judge if he thought it would be okay if I invited the young man to get a cup of coffee sometime so that I could share my heart with him a bit and some of my journey through life – the judge felt great about it so I walked into the room unsure of how it would go.

As I had sat just a few feet away from [him] when I had arrived for the hearing I felt waves of emotion wanting to rise up inside of me and I felt like I could cry. Now as I approached him I was excited and curious to see how things would play out. Before I said a word he rose out of his seat and extended his hand toward me.

“Sir,” he said, “I have been advised not to speak to you. But I wanted to let you know how deeply sorry I am for what happened. I really appreciate you being gracious with me and having the charges lowered to help me out. I have wanted to contact you before but I have been advised not to speak to you. I apologize. I’m sure if I was in your shoes it would have been a very scary thing to experience.”

“You are forgiven man,” I said. “I accept your apology and you are forgiven. I was hoping that we would get a chance to talk. God has been gracious with me when I have made mistakes and I don’t hold anything against you. I was actually hoping that I could share some of my journey with you sometime if you would like to get together.”

“I would love to hear about your life,” he said. “If I give you my contact information will you call me to set it up?”

I was so happy. This is exactly what I was hoping for, an opportunity to sit down and talk about life with him and get to share my story and hear some of his. I took his number and then introduced myself to his father who again thanked me for being gracious and helping them out. Again I assured them that people have been gracious with me and that God has been gracious with me and that there are no hard feelings. I told them to hang in there with things and we said our goodbyes.

Then I went out into my car and started it and sat there and cried. I cried because I know that God loves me. I cried because of a million bottled up thoughts. I cried because of how redemptive God is and I cried because of that young man and how I know that God is going to move in his life. And I cried because I felt God’s pleasure with me as a son and I cried because God is good and I love it.

The guide in the boat warned us about making too much noise, so one by one we crept quietly into the Pacific Ocean, just off the coast of Oahu. We weren’t supposed to swim or talk – just relax in our life jackets. Just float.

Then the guide gave us the signal, and I rolled over on to my stomach and peered down into the water through my goggles. The view shocked me – the water was so clear that even though we were in twenty or thirty feet of water, I could see the bottom in detail. I felt like I was floating twenty or thirty feet above the ground. I thought I would fall.

Then, the reason for our silence – a school of dolphins shot underneath us, their tails pumping. Above the surface, with the sun glaring off of the water, we never would have seen them. But peering into the depths gave us an entirely different viewpoint.

* * * * *

There are things I want to do, things I want to accomplish. There are words I want to write, concepts I want to sink into. Books I want to read. Friends I want to interact with.

Yet I am drawn to distractions, things that divert my attention. They bring temporary relief because when I’m distracted, I forget about how far I am from where I want to be. The mountaintop, so far off in the distance, disappears behind the fog. Distractions help me to ignore the hard work required to get there, and when I waste time watching too much television or being consumed by social media, my drive is anesthetized.

* * * * *

I used to think the main problem with distraction was that it cut down on my productivity. I should be reading more. I should be writing more. I shouldn’t have any down time.

But now I’m starting to realize that less productivity isn’t the main issue. In fact, sometimes less productivity is a good thing.

The worst part about distraction is that it keeps me at the surface. It’s like swimming in an incredible lagoon but never diving down into the depths. Distraction tethers me to the petty crust of life.

I do not stop enough. I am not still enough.

I want to spend more time looking down into the deep.

What do you do in order to stay focused? What kinds of activities help you to explore the deeper things of life?

The questioner usually dances around the topic.

“So what did you and your wife do, you know, to find time alone during your four months on the bus? You know, like, time together?”

Why is sex such a hard word to say?

Turns out it’s a hard thing to write about, too, so I tried to pick a more appropriate environment in which to broach the topic. And where better than the blog of Tamara Outloud? Head on over there today to read my post about “S-E-X on the Big Blue Bus” (it goes live at 7:30 am Eastern time). Don’t worry – it’s rated G…unlike much of the rest of her refreshingly honest blog.

* * * * *

If this is your first time here, welcome! Have a look around. Check out some of my more popular blog posts:

Like when our bus brakes went out at the top of the Teton Pass, or

You Will Want to Give Up (Don’t), or

perhaps the one about Surviving the Worst Case (and Finding a Stranger in Your Kitchen at 4am)

Finally, I’ve also written an E-book about hitting rock bottom and trying to make a living as a writer. It’s called Building a Life Out of Words and is available in all kinds of different digital formats. Best part of the book? Contributors include Andi Cumbo, Bryan Allain, Ed Cyzewski, Jason Boyett, Jeff Goins, Jennifer Luitwieler, Ken Mueller, Kristin Tennant, and Stacy Barton.

Tune in tomorrow for the follow up on what happened when my friend went to the hearing of the guy who broke into his house at four in the morning. Trust me – you don’t want to miss it.

A man and a woman walked past my mom’s candy store where I worked on Saturday. The woman’s gaze swept longingly over all of the chocolate. The man laughed and in a boisterous voice shouted out to her:

“You just lookin’ at pounds, girl. That’s all you lookin’ at.”

“Oh hush,” she said. “I’m just lookin’.”

“Like pastor said on Sunday,” he kept on, “Your eyes are connected to your brain. Where you look, you gonna go.”

He was right. Five minutes later, much to her own chagrin, she left the shop with a pound of fudge.

* * * * *

This picture of Sam is currently the wallpaper photo on my cell phone. It came at the end of the most stressful day of our four-month trip. At the point I took this picture we were getting close to Yellowstone, came around a corner, and this view of the Grant Teton mountain range took away my power to blink.

The other kids were in the back of the bus, but as usual Sam had been paying close attention to the landscape. When Maile and I walked outside to take some photos, he was right behind us, his stockinged feet walking lightly over the gravel. He marched up to the edge of the pull-off area, crossed his arms, and stared at the mountains.

When I look at the picture now, I realize the truth behind the man’s words at the candy store today. There’s no way I could have spent many days staring at those mountains without deciding to go there. Eventually I would have had to rent a kayak, cross the water, and start climbing.

Where you look, you gonna go.

* * * * *

What are you stealing glances at?

What are you dwelling on?

What are you reading?

What are you watching?

Where you look, you gonna go.

* * * * *

““It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.” Oscar Wilde