This is a bit of a vulnerable post for me to write. I ask that you allow me the grace to share our story as we are living it. There's a good chance that it doesn't match yours, and in this instance, that's okay. Thanks, y'all.
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I've written before about how we came to move to the frozen tundra, or as Clown #2 likes to call it, the arctic of the USA. (haha). I haven't quite shared all of the details yet, though. I'm going to try to do that tonight, because this last week has been a time where a "circle has been closed" for us, and it's been a relief in a way that I am going to try to put into words.
Almost exactly two years ago, Mike and I were talking about starting a second adoption. We were living in Maine and our house was big enough. Our car was big enough. Our finances were pretty good (they can always be better, amiright?). Our health was getting back in order, after my pneumonia episode. The kids were getting older and more self-sufficient. Clown #6 was about a year old, but we knew that if we started an adoption with Clown #4's home country, it would be about a year and a half before the child came home anyways, so we were looking at a good chunk of time before anything would change and where she'd get to stay the baby a bit longer.
So, we reached out to our placing agency who had helped us with our first adoption. Our social worker excitedly emailed us back, telling us about a baby boy (seriously, a baby boy - he was only 8 months old!) who was available for adoption, and who she'd been wanting to "cold call" us about for months, because she could see him in our family. She sent us his information and pictures, and we both just fell in love with this little guy. We decided we would try to move forward with the adoption.
It came to a halt, almost immediately. With this country, every agency who touches the paperwork must be approved by the government in the child's home country. In our state, Maine, there was only one agency who was approved to work with these adoptions. They'd done our first home study and follow up post-placement report with Clown #4's adoption. They'd just instituted a requirement that they would not do any adoptions for any family who had more than 5 children under the age of 16 in the home.
We had 6 kids under the age of 16. They refused to even entertain the idea, telling us to "come back when Clown #1 was 16 and they'd be happy to help us then!". The placement agency AND the in-country agency in Clown #4's home country tried to convince them to allow an exception, scheduling conference calls to discuss our case, etc.
They still refused.
On the day of the last attempt by the placing agency (another conference call), Mike and I decided to pray a nine-hour novena. Our intention was for God's Will to be made visible to all involved, and for us to be able to follow it faithfully. We asked all of our friends to pray it along with us.
The first eight hours came and went. No update from our social worker. We had absolutely no idea how that phone call went, or if it even happened. She tended to work on a time schedule that allowed for overlapping hours between our country and Clown #4's home country, so it wasn't unusual for us to get updates via email in the middle of the night. We weren't worried about not hearing anything yet, although we desperately wanted some news.
Next thing we knew, it was the last 15 minutes of the ninth hour, and honestly, thinking about now still gives me the chills. In that 15 minutes, God made His Will crystal clear to us....and it was not at all what we had expected.
At 8 hours and 45 minutes, Mike listened to a voicemail that he'd gotten earlier in the day. At that exact time, I was reading a postcard we'd gotten in the mail that same day. We literally turned to each other and said, "Hey, look at this!" and it was the *same information*.
He was listening to a phone call from a headhunter. Normally, he gets 1-2 of these phone calls a day and just deletes the voicemails without really even listening to them. We get at least 8-10 of these postcards in the mail every week, and I usually just toss them (after looking to see if the job is in Pensacola, of course, haha). But on this day, with 15 minutes left in the novena, we'd both picked up/listened to the exact same job opportunity and decided it was worth mentioning to the other person.
The job was in the Midwest, at a Catholic hospital. They were looking for someone who had knowledge and experience in fertility awareness/natural family planning. Anywhere in the Midwest was closer to his family, and would put us within striking distance in case of an emergency or if they needed anything. It would also open our kids up to many more opportunities for education past high school that we could afford.
He called the headhunter and got more information about the position. It was exactly what he'd always wanted, and within hours of his family (and in-state tuition to two of the colleges that our kids wanted to go to). He agreed to talk to the head of the department over the phone.
Then we got the email from our social worker.
The Maine agency had said no, yet again, and there was nothing she could do to change their minds. They had agreed that we were a wonderful family, had all the necessary resources, and could parent another child....but they were refusing to make an exception to their rule.
To make an already too long story shorter, we found ourselves feeling strangely at peace with the decision of the Maine agency. Our hearts were broken, and we worried about this little boy not having a family when we could be his family, but something about the way the nine-hour novena had ended up brought peace to our hearts. Maybe, just maybe, God was telling us that we needed to find out more about this job opportunity first.
So...we did. And as you all know, we ended up moving across the country. Throughout the entire process, we've continued praying for that little guy in a country across the ocean, hoping that a family had come forward for him.
Shortly after this, an online friend reached out. They'd requested more information about this little guy, and were planning to move forward with an adoption. I was over the moon - not only would he have a family, but it was one that I loved and respected so much. I knew he'd be loved on and well cared for, and he would be within driving distance, so maybe I'd even get to see him someday.
For various reasons, that adoption ended up not happening. Again, my heart hurt for this little guy, but I can say with 100% certainty that another little boy needed this family more at that moment.
We've tried to start a second adoption with this particular country, because our hearts are there, but the logistics of adopting up here in the tundra got MUCH harder (just as our finances finally were allowing us to move forward) when the only agency accredited to do the kind of home study that we needed closed. Everything was put on hold until it was easier to get an agency up to us to do a home study. (we're kind of hard to reach by car or plane up here during the winter - access closes unpredictably, and we were having a hard time finding an agency that would commit to driving up here before the winter weather was over). We've been researching other countries, but none of them really fit our budget or travel constraints, and some of them raised some moral issues that we weren't comfortable with. We started the foster care approval process, but decided to wait until Mike's opioid treatment program got up and running, in case there'd be a conflict of interest. We were frustrated and struggling to figure out exactly what was supposed to be the path for us right now.
We decided to take the winter off from researching and discussing it, and work on building up our finances for a future adoption. Winters are a little tough around here, with Clown #4 getting sick easily, and kids participating in two competitive sports that both require travel. I also really wanted to get my nutrition coaching business off of the ground, because I knew that had the potential to help us fund a future adoption. We agreed to focus on the here and now, and appreciate this place that God has led us to.
Friends, this move has done more for our family than I can put into words. Mike and I have gotten so much healthier. We've reclaimed our crazy life and made it one that we enjoy - we found our laughter again. We loved Maine and our friends there, but it has become evident that the lifestyle that we'd set up there was not a healthy one. (I wrote a bit about that here). With this move, we've been able to refocus our family on what truly matters: God, our vocations as spouse and parent, our family life, and our health.
I'd taken the last year and a half or so "off" of various adoption groups that I had been active in online, including one for Reece's Rainbow families/supporters, and one for families who were in process to or had adopted from Clown #4's home country. With wanting to use my nutrition coaching as a way to donate to adoptions, I'd started wading back into those groups and participating in discussions there. I'm not sure where we are going to end up with a future adoption of our own, but for right now, I'm at peace with trying to support other families who are working to give kids like Clown #4 a home and a family.
Last week, I started talking about the process in Clown #4's home country with another woman who was struggling with some of the things we'd had to deal with during our adoption: getting agencies approved by the country, moving due to a job and that causing a delay, etc. His home country is amazing with taking care of their kids, and everything is verrrryyyy much above board and by the rules, but the tradeoff for that is it just takes so, so, so friggin' long compared to other countries. I mean, the in-country fee is $800 or something crazy like that - it's not exactly a money making enterprise for the country's economy. But the tradeoff for that? It takes a long time. A very long time. And the country is incredibly detail-oriented with every single piece of paper and approval and step along the way. Which adds time. Lots of time.
Anyway, this mom and I talked about the trials of adopting from this country, and how hard it was to watch other families seemingly fly through the process with other countries when we just wanted to hold our own little ones in our arms, too.
On a whim, I asked her about the little guy she was adopting. I felt the Holy Spirit nudging me into the question, and just went with it. I'm not usually that direct, haha.
Friends, as you're probably all anticipating.....her son is the little boy we prayed and fought so hard for two years ago. He has a family! A family who is praying to bring him home as soon as possible.
A mom who desperately wants to hold her son in her arms.
This little guy is not mean to be our son, but I feel so much love and gratitude for him already. He is the reason we are here in the tundra. He is the reason that we were able to reclaim our family life and our health. He is the reason that we have found peace again at the Circus.
I can't do too much from afar - other than continue to pray for him (and now his family!) - but I ask that you prayerfully consider supporting this family on their journey. This little guy means so much to us at the Circus, and now so does his family. I cannot put into words how much relief it brings us to know that he will soon be home, in the embrace of sibling and parents, and able to grow up knowing that love that a family can provide.
If you have the ability to, would you consider throwing a few dollars into the Wilkinson's family fund on Reece's Rainbow? You'll get a tax write off for next year, and they'll be able to move that much faster towards bringing this little guy home.
The Circus would be so appreciative.
Please keep Tate and his family in your prayers as they work through the remaining time of the adoption. It will be trying at times, and they'll feel worn. Let's cover them in prayers and relieve a little bit of the burden on their shoulders.
Thanks, friends.
