I can thank Steven Curtis Chapman for naming this blog post. As I listened the other day to the hopeful lyrics of this years-old anthem, the song seemed to perfectly describe the beginnings of this next chapter of our story, which I’m pretty excited to explain. It’s been on my mind to write for quite a while. I do hope the timing of this “announcement” of sorts is right, which will hopefully make more sense when the reader has finished this piece.

It’s been a several months long journey to the place where our family currently is, so I’ll do my best to do a little back tracking and explaining for you – and will try to avoid chasing too many unnecessary squirrels in the process.

Unthawing and Unravelling

John 14:27 – “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

The past 8 months or so has been a challenging season for me personally. It started with nagging shoulder pain last summer that simply would not go away. It was months of intensifying pain and worsening movement that I chalked up to years of lifting on Sam. I also speculated and wondered if there was an emotional cause, as well. Maybe from pent up grief or stress after emerging from the excruciating “year of firsts” without him? Whatever the cause, one thing was certain: I was becoming more depressed with each new day and I dreaded laying down to sleep at night, for the pain would be unforgiving. Through weeks of frustrating, sub-par medical care and a misdiagnosis, we sought a second opinion. I finally was given an answer in December: a frozen shoulder. But hallelujah, a plan to fix the problem in the coming weeks was formulated and agreed upon, and I was elated that relief was hopefully now within reach.

Right out of the gates, January 2020 brought with it an unexpected weekend hospitalization in ICU with wonky heart syndrome (that’s my unofficial medical label). Two weeks later saw an OR visit with the long awaited manipulation of my arm to break up scar tissue and restore movement. The same day of my procedure, I began weeks of long overdue physical therapy to restore the function and strength to my weak and now withered arm.

You think stress doesn’t have that profound of an effect on your body? I was obviously an example that begged to differ.

However, it turned out my shoulder was really only half of my worries. I did not realize I would have to let the above verse be my lifeline to keep breathing.

I’m about to get very real and open here…..just hang on while I take a deep breath and continue typing.

By springtime, it was evident that something new was happening within me and it was terrifying. About once a month, for the first time in my life, I was beginning to have panic attacks. I really don’t want to go into describing the details, but I will honestly admit that I now have a much different perspective and supreme level of empathy for patients, family members, and friends who suffer from these.

I had lost weight, my appetite was diminished, and I felt disconnected from so much in my life. Mainly, I was just going through the motions of day to day living, finding myself very irritable, and trying hard to make sense of what in the heck was now going on inside me. It seemed that my defenses for handling conflict and stress were rapidly fading and it was shaking me to the core. I was beginning to be consumed with worry.

Is this the beginnings of menopause? Or delayed and continued grief from Sam? Am I losing my mind? Is this a nervous breakdown? Am I just being flaky and weak? Is this what a true spiritual attack feels like?

Whatever it was, I couldn’t shake a deep and widening sense of hopelessness, dread, and if I’m painfully honest: failure, embarrassment, and shame. Those thoughts were the worst. I despise weakness and neediness in myself and I was spinning further and further away from who I thought I was, and who I wanted to be. It was as if all of these fears and angst would descend on me heavily, especially at night, or when I was alone – and I felt completely powerless to stop the overwhelming cascade. The physical effects were downright frightening and likely one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced.

The conversations inside my head sounded like this: “Look at the last decade of your life for crying out loud. Look at what we have walked through with the kids. You’ve dealt with the slow and deliberate loss of Sam over ten years and now look forward to time in the cemetery to be next to him. Where’s your broad shoulders? Where’s the faith you profess? Why this, why now? You should have been having breakdowns and unravelling long ago, right? You know how to cope with the best of them. Get it together!!!”

If this makes sense, I began to deeply fear…..fear.

I was totally perplexed and finding out that I wasn’t so capable and I wasn’t so in control after all.

With very little left in my arsenal of defenses to confront this monster, I did what I’ve advised patients to do for years when mental and emotional turmoil was evident….. I followed my own advice and began trying to exercise, eat better, visited my PCP, and then reluctantly put myself in counseling with a trusted friend whom I’ve known for years. I was again finding that I was desperate for help, but not of the orthopedic kind.

One of the most profound statements that my friend and counselor likely doesn’t even remember saying, washed over me like a cool waterfall in my first conversation with her. I was on the phone, nervously bumbling through the guilt and embarrassment of having to seek her help. Confessing that I really didn’t have it all together; desperate for help and trying to explain what had consistently been rearing its ugly head in my brain and body. She confidently told me, “Annie, nothing that you’ve said is anything that I don’t fully believe we can’t fix over time. This is an easy fix that we can handle .”

Proverbs 12:25 – “Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up.”

I wanted to cry (I did) hearing her confident statement and felt like I could finally take a small and honest breath of hope. A glimmer of light on the horizon? Oh my gosh, I prayed so.

I don’t know if you as the reader can fully grasp the width and breadth of that word, but it was the one thing I felt that was falling through my fingers like sand that I simply could not get a grip on and hold any longer.

HOPE.

Hope that I wouldn’t have to live with escalating anxiety or debilitating fear. Hope that I wasn’t losing my mind. Hope that I wasn’t going to stay to numb to living. Hope that I would be able to return to someone who felt purpose and expectation. Hope that I wouldn’t be a slave to worry and remain a prisoner in my own head. Hope that Sam’s loss had not permanently damaged or altered my psyche.

In retrospect, I really wish I would’ve been doing some level of regular counseling throughout the years, but time and the need to – they just both seemed to be reasons I couldn’t find before. In the middle of caring for Sam and raising our family, Wade and I just stayed locked in survival mode, only tackling one day’s problems at a time, for that was enough most days. Who has the energy or forethought to take of one’s self under those circumstances?

Now the good news…..

Today, several months later, I can tangibly sense my head and heart changing – and through my counselor’s God breathed wisdom, encouragement, biofeedback ( I do not understand this), and lots of prayer – I know there’s a positive shift happening deep inside me. I’ve learned that the brain – just like the spine or stomach or heart – can exhibit real signs of chronic stress. And it too, begs to be taken care of and will demand your attention sooner or later if neglected or abused for too long. I feel better and clearer than what I have in years. And anxiety and dread are taking a backseat and are no longer regular enemies that I’m forced to engage or battle with.

If you, or someone you know, could fit the above descriptors, I honestly can’t emphasize or encourage the reader enough – to seek out counsel. That’s how strongly I feel about its benefits. If you wouldn’t think twice about getting your eyes checked to correct your vision, then the same should apply to care for your emotions, thoughts, and coping skills. This was a realization I was forced to make – and the stigma in my head about seeking out help, has for sure fled.

I can’t express enough my gratitude and just the sheer relief of knowing I am steadily progressing toward the ‘old me’ again. The thought of having to deal with regular, unending, and oftentimes unannounced panic for the rest of my life plagued me deeply. I am now to the point that I can see the evidence that Jesus is once again bringing me through yet another valley that threatened to be endless and dark.

He is so faithful in His provisions and care. His peace is personal and real; and it was purchased at a high cost, and joyfully placed in front of me to embrace – with no strings attached. What a gift. When I worry and spiral, what an affront to Christ and His provisions that He bought for me. I’ve had to really repent and become keenly aware of that mistake.

Proverbs 13:10 – “Where there is strife, there is pride. But wisdom is found in those who take advice.”

Maybe that proverb was penned in more of the context of a social application, but I find a much more personal lesson within it. Emotional turmoil and strife inside me gave way to help from wise counsel, but that first required me putting away my pride in believing that I could find and maintain my own peace. Jesus purchased for me a lasting and true peace, just like He declared in the above verse.

I share the above to share the following, because the events compliment each other. I strongly hold to the idea that life happens in seasons, and the “deaths” that occur in one season, are solely purposed to produce life in the ones to follow.

Awakening to Action

1 Corinthians 2:9 – “What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived – the things God has prepared for those who love him.”

That gradual returning of hopefulness, optimism, and appeal for living has led me to bring our family to where we are now – and really, the main reason for this blog post.

On the couch one night in May, with Wade asleep with his head in my lap, I was perusing through Facebook on my phone like all good Americans do when we can’t sleep. An ad came up that said “Oklahoma Heart Gallery.” The link was to a DHS website that highlights 100 different children per year who are adoptable for reasons not made public….. i.e. the parental rights of these kids have been terminated and they are available and waiting for permanent homes.

I hesitated, then clicked on the link with a good degree of trepidation, knowing full well where I was about to let my heart go – yet also acknowledging that I was taking the first steps in answering a call in my heart to act.

A nagging conviction to open our home for others that I’ve managed to purposefully ignore and deliberately forget through the years.

Minutes turned into well over an hour on the site. My thumb scrolled through the kids, their bios, and I watched lots of two minute long promotional videos they each had recorded of themselves. I listened with ears and a broken heart as they each detailed for the camera their hopes, dreams, descriptions of who they are, and who they wanted to be. All of them waiting, most of them still hoping, but none of them successfully erasing all the visible pain that came with their unknown stories.

It was awful.

Going through the site felt like shopping at a used car lot: looking for the child with the least amount of wear and tear, which one that would fit us the best, wondering which one would have the kindest history and run smoothly with a little TLC. All these kids – dirt knocked off, shined up, and on their best behavior for the camera – in the hopes that a potential new family would take interest in them and rescue them from their days of endless waiting.

One was only left to speculate at what could’ve possibly happened that thrust these kids onto this website; finding themselves parentless and family-less.

These were actual souls and lives, and I felt a ton of conviction just scrolling through this list of little forgotten people in the comforts of my quiet home – like I was shopping.

Another unnerving observation that I made that night was seeing over and over – the unmistakable emptiness that was evident in so many of the teenagers’ eyes, voices, mannerisms, and speech content.

Without them saying so, I just knew – that they knew. They understood their reality without a doubt: families want a baby first and if not a baby, then the younger the child, the better. They were rapidly falling lower on the list of desirables with each birthday spent in state custody.

A 17 year old boy was asked, “What do you want in a future family?” His haunting and flatly stated answer: “When I was younger, I used to think about it a lot. Like, all the time I would think about having a family. But now that I’m getting older and all……..”, as his shoulders shrug and his empty eyes trail off to the floor then fall squarely back to the camera, “I just don’t think about it much anymore.”

Tears came to my eyes. A level of hopelessness that I honestly could not identify with, even though I was fighting to keep hope alive in my own life, but on a much different level.

One 16 year old girl in particular caught my attention. As I watched her video, I recognized the softness of her countenance and voice, and an unmistakable kindness in her gaze. But what struck me nearly speechless were the answers she gave to her set of questions. I’ll let you be the judge for yourself:

(clicking on her name below will direct you to her bio and video.)

https://www.oklahomaheartgallery.com/children/bailey-r/

It was undeniable in that moment that God was showing me that we were potentially the future family and home she was describing in her heart and mind. All I had to do was simply act and take a step toward His heart.

I went to sleep that night with my mind full and my heart heavy; perplexed at the sheer need and number of hurting and broken kids, right here in my own backyard! I had picked out four children from the gallery that I was drawn to, and made the decision to present my case and convictions to Wade and Kathryn the next morning. I couldn’t do this on my own, after all. There needed to be – no, there must be – a hands-down agreement between all of us to either move forward in this endeavor, or table it for another time and season.

This would be much more than just a lease agreement with the option of turning back if things didn’t work out or one party changed their minds. A person’s very life hung on our decision to be all in, or not at all.

When I spilled the beans and described to Wade and Kathryn what had happened the night before with that ad tap on my phone, I watched their gaping mouths and wide eyes. As I continued on, they quietly nursed their cups of hot coffee, trying to digest and wrap their heads around my proposal. The three of us had an open and real conversation about where God could possibly be moving us towards as a family. We agreed on some obvious assets that we had: we have the space, we have the love, we have the time, we have the resources, and we certainly couldn’t deny we also had a plain directive to act from God’s word. James chapter 1 reads, “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress…..”

How can one skirt around that? Boiled down to it’s simplest form, the hope I have inside me that nothing can take, is that adoption saved my life. Christ chose me in all my mess and failures and declared I was worth it to be part of His family.

The very definition of adoption is a main component and the essence of the Christian faith.

We all agreed this was the direction that we would say ‘yes’ to, with Kathryn accepting and open to the idea of no longer being the only child left living in our home.

The general consensus among us after watching the four videos was that Bailey R. would be who we would pursue to welcome into our home and hearts – if this was in fact His plan not just for us, but more importantly – if this was His plan for her. We prayed that morning before church and committed the process to Jesus’ hands. Since that decision, I’ve had to deliberately change my thought patterns to not what she can add and bring to our lives, but rather – what we can we add and bring to her?

With that collective Sunday morning living room decision and Kinsey excitedly proclaiming, “I knew you would!!!”, I took the first steps in inquiring about adopting and contacted DHS, and the process began.

We were all in.

Hope was returning.

I don’t know if I can adequately describe it, but such a strong sense of peace has been palpable in merely just saying “YES” to God’s leading, even though I’ve been terrified at times through the process. However, the peace in knowing that this is right for us – has never left.

Thus far, we’ve now had two different workers in our home. We’ve sat through countless hours in being interviewed, prodded, completing mounds of paper work, fingerprints, etc. Wade and I just finished up our third all-day Saturday class – another part of the required training for foster and adoptive families.

As I am sure that while it is no surprise to those who have fostered or adopted, the realities of being in foster care caught us off guard. It is beyond ridiculous at the amount of times that one child will have moved in their life while in state custody. In one of our training videos, teen after teen explained how hard it is, moving so often from family to family. One counted 17 different homes in the span of 3-4 years.!! Can you imagine?! Another girl explained how she never was able to form lasting friendships, for she moved on average of every couple months or so. “As soon as I finally make a few friends, then I have to pack up and go somewhere else. People just don’t understand.” It’s next to impossible for the system to produce stable and productive adults, capable of forming healthy relationships, by the time the child ages out of DHS care under this kind of model. And the scariest part: once you’re 18, you’re out. Heaven help you, if you have no foundation or safety net to fall back on.

During the weeks-long process of our home study, I got the sense that the “mess” and struggles of our own childhoods actually work in our favor, for it shows that we didn’t live in a perfect bubble. We know how to rise above and navigate through less than ideal conditions – which is exactly what children in foster care must do if they are to emerge as victors and not victims of their circumstances. We shared a good laugh with the interviewer during one of our last sessions, while we recounted to him our very different upbringings. It really appeared that Wade was raised by Ward and June Cleaver, whilst my childhood was a little more……eh, colorful. Between marijuana, Vietnam, honky tonks, beer, and divorce – God’s grace somehow found me and I think I turned out alright. (Wade’s a bit jealous he didn’t have these enriching experiences, I can tell.)

We currently are awaiting for our home study to be approved and then we gain the green light to proceed. DHS will then sit down with Wade and I and do a “full disclosure” with us concerning Bailey. That will be the moment that she no longer will be just another child on that site, but rather a real soul that we will reach for and embrace a little closer. A child who could potentially be our new daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, and cousin. I’m holding my breath and getting my heart and mind prepared to learn about her journey thus far, and what thrust her into the world of foster care. I hope I can stomach this knowledge. I know her history and life events will be hard to listen to and digest. It’s just understood that we’ll have to feel her pain, soak in her hurts, and be ever aware of her scars from that moment forward. The way I see it, if we’re going to pull her into our life, then we will have to be pulled into hers – and trust that God will pull us all into a better chapter going forward.

I regularly visit the website, hoping that I won’t see a banner under her picture that says “pending placement”, or “Family Found!”…. I do realize there are so many variables and events that can still happen that could bring this whole thing to a screeching halt. Whether this child makes it into our home or not – I fully believe there was a reason she came under my eyes that night in May and has unknowingly made her way into our hearts, our thoughts, and lately, even our dreams. She’s been prayed for by Wade and I consistently since this whole process began. I’m ok with doing my part, if in fact that prayer alone for her is all that Christ’s intention is for her and us. There’s so much we can’t see and aren’t privy to – but I trust the Holy Spirit’s heart. Admittedly, I would be heartbroken if things did not pan out with her; but I completely trust His plan for her and us.

Though we’ve never met – and we may never meet – her life has become important to us, and her future is being prayed over. She’ll know one day.

One of my worries and ponderings if she does come to live with us, is simply will she be able and capable of loving and trusting more adults in her life? How do you really do that?? With strangers you don’t know and haven’t met – how do you come to love, adjust, adapt, and embrace them with expectation and hope that they too, won’t reject or mistreat you? How does a child reconcile their past, while staying hopeful for a better tomorrow?? A book I acquired about adoption reminds the reader that the real superheroes are not the adoptive families. Rather, it’s the adopted children themselves. They are the true heroes. I could not agree more, when you consider what they have to overcome. It is mind boggling.

Maybe it’s a pie in the sky mentality, but my plan is a steadfast commitment to her to allow love, patience, time, and lots of prayer to facilitate just that. After all, she does say in her video clip, “I just want a family that wants to adopt, and that doesn’t turn away.” That simple and sincere request hits deeply every time I watch it; my mind pained at the distinct possibility that she is likely much too familiar on what “being turned away” means. No matter how tough our journey together could possibly be, she remains a life and soul that deserves a promise and commitment from adults that she won’t be rejected or abandoned anymore.

She deserves a chance, she deserves hope.

And we have but one brief lifetime given us – to make a difference with it, and that’s what I intend to do.

While I can worry about all that could go wrong, I can’t deny that on the other side of those anxious thoughts, I also hear Christ whisper into my heart – ‘Seek Me for all that could go right.” That breathes courage and expectation into me. At times that whisper makes me cry.

And especially now, with the recent attention surge in social media and the news, it’s being brought to light nearly daily – the growing cancer of pedophilia and human trafficking around the globe. It makes this whole process and decision to adopt that much more weighty and critical in its timing. I know we will be changing the odds and risk factors for at least ONE life – and isn’t that where we should all begin?

I can’t save all the world’s children, but I can say “yes” to the call to act for her. Will there be more after her? I don’t know but I do know Who I trust.

So, in the coming weeks, you will hopefully catch a glimpse of a new blonde haired sweet girl with us – though DHS rules prohibit us from publicly identifying her as a foster child on social media. (I fully understand that and will honor her right to privacy to not be singled out.) If all goes according to plan, it’s been explained that we will begin with a few visitations to get to know each other, then a few overnights, followed at last by her moving in. Oklahoma law mandates a child must live in a home for 6 months before a legal adoption can occur, to let the “honeymoon” period pass. So….we still have quite a ways to go before hopefully, she can eventually change her last name to Brown if she so chooses.

We covet your prayers, support, and acceptance through this new and exciting journey for this precious young life.

We know and trust fully that Christ is in every single detail of this chapter. And with each passing week, as each new page that has already been written is revealed, we honestly can’t help but feel that this really is a glorious unfolding.

Thanks for reading.