One year ago I wrote a post titled Fire is Hot. Fire is indeed hot. You know what else is hot? Just about any place south of the Mason-Dixon line in the middle of June. You know what makes those places even hotter? No air-conditioning and a cast on your arm.

Sofija was accepted into an outpatient treatment program at Kennedy Krieger Institute. For the next several months we will spend two days a week driving to Columbia, MD for two hours of attempting to turn her into the best version of herself and then climbing back in the car for a two-hour drive home with an unhappy-to-be-in-the-car (not so) little girl. We prayed for this. We asked you and everyone you/we know to pray for this. We are masochists.

Before we dive into the actual treatment part, the doctors need to know more about what motivates her aggression, self-injury, and other destructive behaviors. These things are learned through a process called a functional analysis. It’s a painful process that involves trying to trigger behaviors. This week’s functional analysis was all about discovering why she constantly aggresses towards her Daddy.

In the first ten-minute assessment she was given blank paper and a box of crayons and told that her Dad had work to do on his phone and that she didn’t have to draw or color, but she could not talk to him. As I sat in an observation booth with three doctors watching my baby girl and my hubby, I noticed he was scowling. I sent him a text message asking why. He simply responded, “Check your email.” So I did. I wanted to vomit. After forty-two months of waiting for the Army to tell us exactly what it is he was accused of in December of 2011, we had our answer. He had just received a GOMAR (General Letter of Reprimand) and he was given one week to file a rebuttal.

What that means is that after a three and a half-year witch hunt, the Justice Department and the Army’s Criminal Investigation Division haven’t found any evidence to substantiate pressing charges against him or taking any type of judicial action. But because they have never asked for nor received any evidence to rebut the accusations, they have recommended that his commanding General just write a letter saying that he did those things and place that letter in his permanent military record, destroying not only his career, but his chances of getting any job connected to the military when he retires. A GOMAR is referred to as the “Career Killer”. Without ever having a voice in the matter, a letter was written to destroy my husband’s career.

The letter stated that he was accused of giving contracts to family members, participating in a conspiracy, and accepting bribes. There was a second email with a link to the 149 pages of investigation notes that we would not be able to open until we were home. Like I’ve already said, I wanted to vomit. I sat in that observation booth, with my mind spinning a million miles an hour, bursting with anticipation knowing that as soon as we opened those investigation notes we would know EXACTLY who started this hellish season of our lives.

With my brain and stomach churning, Sofija and my hubby began the next assessment. This one involved placing a demand on her. She was given a tub of towels and shirts and asked to fold them. When he unfolded a shirt and asked her to fold it correctly she jumped out of her chair and began swinging at him. As he put his forearm up to block her, her fist caught his pinky finger and left it hanging at about a 70 degree angle to the side of his hand. It was ugly.

We made the two-hour drive home before he went to the emergency room and discovered he has a comminuted fracture (the bone is broken into several pieces just below the knuckle). Did I mention it’s his left hand? And that he just happens to be left-handed?

The ER doctor put in an emergency referral for him to see an orthopedic surgeon and sent him home. By the time we were done with attempting to get him comfortable, we decided to try to sleep and save the investigation notes for the next morning. A man’s capacity for pain in a day has its limits.

We awoke the next morning to a phone call from the orthopedic surgeon who had already scheduled an appointment before the end of the week. With little sleep, lots of pain-induced vomiting, and a not-so-little girl trying her best to get to her Dad’s splinted and wrapped hand, we dug into the investigation notes. With the exception of a couple of people who made false statements, it wasn’t all that surprising. The two people who made the accusations and the two people who lied to back up those accusations, have all made A LOT of money in the three-and-a-half years that my husband has sat at home watching his twenty-four year, stellar military career, disappear. All of them needed him and his big mouth out of the way in order to make all that money. We were given one week to prove it. EVERY SINGLE PART OF ME wants to blast their names all over the internet, write letters to their wives, and start looking for a lawyer who will sue them for slander and libel. God’s going to have to do some serious work in me. Yea, yea, I know. “Forgive so that you can be forgiven…” I also know that the Bible says Christians shouldn’t sue their brothers in Christ, but I’m pretty sure none of these guys are in the family.

With his one hand and my two, we have spent the last few days searching, writing, praying, and fending off Sofija. Two days ago we saw the orthopedic surgeon. They x-rayed his hand again and put him in a cast. They will x-ray it again next week and if the bones have shifted, he will have to have pins placed. We’re believing that they will be properly aligned, healing, and he will not have to have surgery.

When we returned from the ortho appointment it was REALLY hot in our house. By the next morning we realized our A/C was dead. Just lovely. Three hands, a deadline, a broken baby girl, and a really hot house are not things I would wish on anyone. Not even the guys who destroyed my husband’s career. Maybe God is working on my heart already. 😉

This week has been crap. Hot, stinky, yucky… CRAP. So many of you have messaged and called to ask what we need. Here it is…. We need God to make this crap holy.

 
My wise husband reminded me that three of our four children thinking I’m a great Mom means I still get a passing grade. It’s true. I’m at 75% right now. I think I’ll take that “C”. 

Moms (and Dads),

As long as you’re doing your best, you’re doing a GREAT job. Don’t believe anything else. God gave you the kids He gave you because He knew you were the best-equipped person to parent them. Stand on that! God made you for this and the opinions, words, and choices of your offspring do not define you. HE DOES!! 

Keep up the fight! Even if you’re at a 50% approval rating or getting no approval at all, you’re still doing what God made you to do. 

Love & Mama-Solidarity,

The 75%er

John 8:32 “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free…”

Truth-telling is hard work. It is scary, gut-wrenching, and sometimes isolating. But freedom… Oh, freedom. You are always worth the gut-wrenching work of telling the truth.

When we began our adoption journey we had no idea where it would take us. On September 17, 2009, I opened an email from a waiting children website that contained information on several children in Eastern Europe. As I scrolled down the list thinking of the people I knew who were pursuing adoption, I mentally tried to match the children with people I know. And then… I saw Ana-Sofia. I cannot explain what happened in that moment, but the second I saw her, she was my child. For the next seven months, bringing her home became my job.

Making my daughter my daughter meant working with a facilitator in Serbia. That facilitator just happened to be a pediatrician at the orphanage where my daughter spent the majority of the first three years of her life. That doctor asked us for money and then asked us for gifts. And then… she told me that I would be responsible for shutting down the Serbian adoption program if I didn’t keep my mouth shut. She warned me not to be a “trouble-maker”. Well, guess what?! I was born with a mouth that just has trouble staying shut.

Exactly five years ago today, on April 14, 2010, I met my daughter. Before meeting her I spent the morning in a Serbian government office being questioned about the facilitator and how much information we had received on Sofija. Our three older children were taken in another room and questioned. The whole ordeal was scary and intimidating and I was fearful that if I told the whole truth I would never meet my daughter.

In the twelve months after our adoption there was a lot of truth-telling that eventually led to me returning to Serbia to make a statement against the facilitator.

The last five years have given me the opportunity to truly fall in love with the nation and the people of Serbia. Serbia is beautiful. Her people are my brothers and sisters. Serbia gave me my daughter and that motherland is woven into the fiber of my being. The pediatrician who sold us our daughter does not represent the heart of the nation who gave us our daughter any more than the Army Generals and SES’s who mingle with government contractors and then destroy my husband’s career because he won’t play along with their corruption, represent the heart of America.

Today, our story was shared in a Serbian newspaper. I’m not going to lie. Sharing our story was scary. But the truth… the truth always leads to freedom.

Serbia is now a member of the Hague Convention. With Dr. Jankovic removed from the international adoption process, more children have been adopted in the last few years than in the decade leading up to our adoption and my “big mouth”. Children are finding families and when a children is placed in a family they are freed from the confines of an orphanage… freedom.

What is your hard truth? Do you have an opportunity to bring about freedom? Today I challenge you to just BE BRAVE.

Joshua 1:9  This is my command—be strong and BRAVE! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

Okay, Winter.

Enough is enough. When we said our goodbyes nine days ago, I really meant all the things I said. I enjoyed our time together. It was fun while it lasted. But it’s time to move on. I sincerely do appreciate that you blew away the things in my life that blocked my view. You helped me see clear and far. You forced me to slow down and breathe deep. You challenged me and showed me strength I’d forgotten I possessed. For all of these things, I ‘m grateful.

That being said, our time is up. I’ve met someone new and I really need for you to give me space to work on my new relationship.

His name? Spring. He’s warm and kind and my gut says that he’s going to draw me out in ways that you just aren’t capable of. We have common interests that you and I just never shared. Remember how you quieted me and grew cold at the mention of new life? Yeah, well. I want new life!! I don’t just want new life. I want colorful, new life. Spring has promised to give it to me. Not that the opinions of others matter much to me, but all of my friends and family have made comments about the condition you’ve left me in. They’re genuinely concerned. Quite honestly, I am too.

You weren’t all bad, but you sucked the color out of me. I’m feeling like the pale girl in this ^^^ picture and that’s just not who I am.

So please, I ask that you spare yourself a little dignity and move on. Please allow me to do the same.

Sincerely,

Winter Weary

That pretty house up there is located in Columbus, Georgia. It has been ours since the summer of 2002. Only we haven’t lived in Columbus since the summer of 2008.Seven years ago, in March of 2008, we found out we were moving to the Washington, DC area. We immediately began asking our friends and family to pray that the house we had filled with life and love would sell before we moved. It quickly went under contract to one of our favorite elementary school teachers and her family. We were happy. And then, the day we were packing all of our things onto a moving truck in preparation to close and hand over the keys the following morning, we got a dreadful phone call. The buyers had to back out of the sale because the buyers of the home they were living in had backed out of buying that house. Two families were sitting in houses, surrounded by boxes, unable to sell their homes.

Seven months, a move to Alexandria, VA, and an empty savings account later, we rented the house to a wonderful military family who had children the same ages as our own. They were the most amazing tenants and when they called two years later to say they had orders to move to North Carolina, I cried. We put the house back on the market and with little savings, we also listed it for rent. Two months later, we rented it to three young, single Army officers. BIG, HUGE, INSURMOUNTABLE mistake. In May of 2014 they moved out and left the house in horrible condition. After six weeks of cleaning and repairs we once again listed it for sale. Last night we got an offer. Tonight we have a ratified contract.

Countless people have prayed and believed with us that the house would sell over the last seven years. I can’t say just how grateful we are for those prayers. This journey has been so much more than God bringing the right family to buy the house for a price that’s more than we actually owe on it. It’s been all about provision and blind faith. Many, many people have sat around our table, or in our living room, or held our hands in church hallways, claiming one thing… “God, please provide.” He has delivered on those prayers over and over and over again. On paper, our budget has not made sense. The numbers just didn’t add up. But God’s math is soooo much better than our math.

Philippians 4:19 And this same God who takes care of me WILL supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus.

Tonight, just before we ratified the contract, we started a new class of Financial Peace University. As I looked in the faces of the people just beginning their journey towards financial peace, I wanted to jump up and scream “There IS hope!!” Philippians 4:19 doesn’t say that God “might” supply all your needs. It says that He WILL. Period.

The cherry on top of this house-sale sundae? The buyers want to close on Good Friday. Yes, Good Friday is the day we honor the fact that Jesus took on every form of pain and abuse and illness and sin to the point of death, so that we don’t have to carry all that junk. But… it also happens to be the name of a book I hope to someday publish. Because God’s just that flippin’ awesome.

Excuse me while I go pinch myself and have a drink with my husband. If you want to celebrate with us, feel free to pour a glass of wine. Cheers!

WOOHOOO!!!

It’s 10 degrees outside. Sofija has a pretty yucky cold. And tonight she slipped out the back door without a jacket and in her brother’s shoes and ran towards 7eleven. Evidently she got cold and tried to go into a neighbor’s house. Our dear friend Drew was here to help search for her.  My cousin Elisa got here tonight for a three-month job as a pediatric nurse and she helped care for Sofija and helped us warm her up after the police brought her home.

She’s home.

She’s safe.

Once again, God provided and protected .

Once again He reminded me that I’m not in control and that she was His before she was mine.

That being said, we’re tired. Please pray that we get to John’s Hopkins quickly and that the therapies they are able to provide will bring peace and calm and impulse control to Sofija. She’s ridiculously intelligent and our best efforts to keep her contained just aren’t working. It’s time for God to show off.