I'm NOT Going to Say Bah Humbug

Since I like living in a lovely place of denial--especially regarding our never-ending adoption nightmare, today's post will be a bit different. I'm going to take part in something I enjoy reading called "Not Me" Monday started by MckMama. Every Monday a bunch of bloggy moms fess up about the things they "certainly didn't do." (You can click on the button below to read other "Not Me" Mondays.)



I did NOT get through Guatemala's airport security last Thursday with a 2 liter of hand sanitizer in a jumbo Ziploc baggie, perfumed with Lysol spray, only to be seated between Mr. Black Lung and Ms. Nasal Drip.

I did NOT wake up Friday morning feeling like someone had poured concrete in my head and green Jell-o into my lungs. Nope. I just rubbed my nose raw for the fun of it.

I did NOT get an e-mail on Friday from our adoption attorney that after waiting 5 weeks for our certifications to be completed, they showed up at Renap (the governing body that issues new birth certificates) to discover Renap had decided to just close for the day for a Christmas party! Nope. That would be ridiculous, that only our branch Renap would be closed, especially since we only have a few days left to complete our adoption before Christmas.

I did NOT force my children and husband into a constant state of Christmas merriment since we only had two days with Dad home before he had to leave. I did not coerce them into a "Norman Rockwell on speed" rush to make memories--positioning them into Olan Mills kinds of poses in front of our tree that we had to pick out and decorate yet another year without our adoptive son. (*Sigh* I will have to Photoshop Daniel and smiles in later.)

I did NOT spend Saturday night wrapping and packing Christmas gifts for Daniel in case he doesn't make it home in time to spend Christmas with our family. I also did NOT realize that evening that we needed one more document notarized. I did NOT send Brad to drive across town to have a friend notarize it on his last night at home. (Thanks, Laury, for saving our necks!)

I did NOT have to drive my husband to the airport on Sunday morning to leave for Guatemala not knowing if he'll be back in time for Christmas. And I did NOT have to pull over on the side of the road on the drive home because I was crying so hard.

I did NOT let my 12 year old daughter attend a youth group Christmas party even though her science project was not yet finished. No, that would have been irresponsible of me.

I was NOT up at 11:00 p.m. helping her finish the model of a plant cell--heavily medicated operating heavy machinery known as a hot glue gun.

She did NOT call me a "secretory vesicle"--that would have been an improper use of the science term and would have been unsympathetic to the head cold that I do NOT have.

I did NOT remind her that I she is not the "nucleus" of this family, that I give every bit of my "mitochondria" to keep us going, and if she didn't get her "golgi body" moving there would be problems within our "cell wall." (I'm just kidding. She actually did a great job without needing my help.)

I did NOT venture outside in 30 degree raining yuck in the middle of the night to make an international call since my cell phone does not get reception in the house. The cat did NOT escape into the night and I did NOT roam the streets in my Christmas PJs trying to find him.

The icicle lights that my husband lovingly hung on the house did NOT all short out (except for about three lonely strands). And our Christmas tree did NOT tip over in the stand and is now leaning like the Tower of Pisa against the window.

And this morning, I did NOT get the business end of three kids missing their dad as well as many personal belongings. (After being gone two weeks it seems everything has wandered from its place.) My nine year old daughter did NOT freak out that she couldn't find her PE shorts and I certainly did not blame it on the Christmas elves that seem to do mischief in the night.

I did NOT get a call from our credit card company notifying us of ridiculous amounts charged from a hotel in Guatemala City. I was NOT tempted to pretend our card had been stolen and ask them to write the charges off.

And, no matter what, I'm NOT going to say "Bah humbug." (Okay, this one is really true.) For no matter what happens, we are still so very blessed that I have no reason to ever complain.

Okay, I'm done. Thanks for letting me get that out of my system.

For those of you just tuning in . . . we could really use the prayers today. Here's a quick summary of our crazy life. We have been trying to adopt a little boy from Guatemala for 2 1/2 years. We are in the final steps of the process but are cutting it very close in trying to get him home by Christmas. He is now 9 years old and his heart's desire is to finally spend his first Christmas with a family.

My husband and I have been trading off living in a hotel room with him in Guatemala with the hope that we'll complete the adoption by Christmas. Most government offices will be shutting down at the end of this week for the holiday. We are running out of time.

Brad, Daniel and a paralegal for our case are at the Renap in Chimaltenango in Guatemala right now hoping that we can get Daniel's new birth certificate today. If they grant it, then there's a chance they can make it home in time. If not, Brad and Daniel will most likely be stuck there through the holidays. Please keep the prayers coming. I'll try to update tonight.

More than lots,
Kathie

There's No Place Like Home

Call me Dorothy. I'm wearing ruby slippers today chanting "there's no place like home". You just can't appreciate how truly blessed you are until you've spent time away.

I've gotten to snuggle by a fire with my crew at home, sleep in my own bed, wash my own clothes, drive myself where I needed to go, prepare my own food, . . . simple things that I have been aching to do the past two weeks. I'm not even going to think about my to-do list that is longer than Santa's. Brad leaves for Guatemala Sunday morning so this weekend we're just going to enjoy our time as a family.

I was so proud of Brad and the kids for how well they handled things while I was gone. Everyone was alive (including the tree frogs), the house was in order, and Brad had even hung some Christmas lights outside to greet me when I came home. The only thing that was neglected was the lint tray in the dryer, but that means that someone was doing laundry. Whooo hooo!

The only cloud on my yellow brick road is that Daniel still isn't here to make memories with us. But we did get great news that we finally got our signatures on our certifications. A paralegal is in Chimaltenango right now with the hopes of quickly getting Daniel's new birth certificate.

One pot of gold at the end of this rainbow is the sweet time Daniel and I had. I was able to talk to him on the phone last night and I can tell that there's a special bond that wasn't there just two weeks ago. As much as I hate to see Brad go, I know he'll also get this rare one-on-one time to get to know his new son. It's pure gold.

Thanks for your continued love and prayers.

So Grateful,
Kathie

Coming Home Empty Handed

No word from our attorney. It seems they still haven't gotten the signatures on our certifications. There's no need to drive to Chimaltenango now. There would be no way to get there and back in time to catch my flight home. I'm nervous because if we don't get these signatures by tomorrow, we will have to wait till Jan. 14 to get them because our court is going on vacation.

Our only hope now is for Brad to go to Renap on Monday (if the certifications have been signed), then IF we get the new birth certificate he'll go to get the passport. Then he'll submit our final documents on Tuesday with the hope that they will do our Visa interview on Weds. If those things don't happen, well, I rest in knowing Daniel will come home according to His timing in His way and by His grace. I'm living proof of God's faithfulness and surrender to His sovereignty.

Still it is hard leaving Guatemala without Daniel. I had fully expected my homecoming to have his sweet hand in mine . . . to have him sitting on the airplane next to me marveling at the view from the clouds . . . to be greeted by our dear family and friends welcoming him home. Instead I'll be passing the baton and a bunch of documents to Brad to finish the race.

But it is time to go home. I've been away from my other three for 2 weeks. I can't bear another day. Brad and I agreed that it was okay for our children to make sacrifices to get their brother home, but I could tell that we were getting dangerously close to crossing the line of what they could handle. We don't want Daniel's siblings to resent him before he comes home.

When I was talking with my nine year old Ava the other night, she started sobbing and said, "Don't they understand by now how much we love him?! Why can't they see that he is part of our family and just let him come home?!"

I guess I'm feeling the same way. I feel like I'm going home from the hospital after delivering a baby and he has to stay. But it's not because he isn't healthy enough to go home . . . it's because the papers don't yet declare that he is ours. And I guess that's the hardest part of adoption. Knowing that the child is ours before the world agrees.

We're all packed and I'm waiting for my driver to take me to the airport. I'm so grateful that Daniel was so understanding that I needed to go and Papa will be coming. I know there will be tears as I leave and that is so hard. Oh Lord, please make this be the last time I have to say good-bye.

Thanks for your continued love and prayers.

With a Heavy Heart,
Kathie

Post-Game Report

Okay, we have had a time out and it looks like we're going into overtime. (Brad is certainly shaking his head reading this thinking I'm not the best person to be using sports analogies.)

We waited all day for the call. It never came. As the hours ticked by, so did any hope of getting our certifications today. Our attorney e-mailed that they might be ready in the afternoon. We were hoping that we could meet with Renap before they closed. No such luck.

At last report, the certifications are done but not signed. My attorney will be going in the morning to see if he can get them signed.

Here's what complicates things. When I called home Monday night, my three at home were in tears begging me to come home. I'm so torn because if I'm gone even one day here, it could be the day that I'm needed to meet with Renap. But I booked a ticket to return home tomorrow thinking I would be able to meet with Renap today. Brad will be flying down on Sunday to carry on where I have left off. My friend Angela will be watching Daniel in the interim.

So now I'm wondering if I should delay my return home till Friday. But my attorney says there is no guarantee that I'll even get the signatures tomorrow or even Friday. I could extend my stay and it be for nothing. Right now Brad and I will have only two days this Christmas season together at home. We need this time. Our kids at home need this time. So for now I'm planning to return tomorrow night.

The strategy for tomorrow is for my attorney to go to our family court and see if he can get the certifications signed. If he can get them by 9:00 a.m., Daniel and I will meet the paralegal at Renap where we will have about an hour to plead with them for the birth certificate until I will have to make a 1 1/2 hour drive back to Guatemala City to catch my flight. Never a dull moment.

Please keep the prayers coming. The game isn't over yet. We've had a time out and now we are replacing key players (me and Brad) on the field/court (hey, you can fill in the appropriate sports terms).

Thanks for your love and prayers.

Needing Medication,
Kathie

Game Day

I'm sitting in my hotel room with my stomach in knots. It's almost 11:00 a.m. our time and I'm hoping and praying our attorney calls and says our certifications are finally ready after waiting over a month for them.

Our game plan is to get the certifications and take them directly to the governing body in the city the Daniel was born. We have a driver on stand-by waiting to take me, Daniel, and a paralegal to Chimaltenango. There we will beg for them to issue a birth certificate today. Daniel and I will give them our most pitiful faces (we're really good at this) and pray for a miracle.

Here are the rules to our game. If the certifications aren't ready today, there may not be time to do the final steps in time for a Christmas homecoming. We've been told that the US Department of State will only do Visa interviews on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays and that they will not be open the week of Christmas. We need to get our birth certificate today, his passport tomorrow or Friday, and have our final documents translated and ready to be submitted on Monday. If all this happens, we could have our son home by the end of next week.

But our attorney e-mailed me last night that the person who has to sign off on our certifications is swamped and isn't sure if he'll even get them done today. (Ulcer number one.) And if the Renap in Chimaltenango refuses to issue the birth certificate and makes us go through the Central Renap governing body, it will take a couple weeks to get our new birth certificate and there will be no way to get home in time for Christmas. (Ulcer number two.)

And if there are ANY errors in our certifications and these documents have to go back to our family court that is going on vacation for a month this Friday, then we will have to wait till our family court reopens on Jan. 14 to continue with the process and either Brad or I will have to live here till early February. (Ulcers three, four, and five.)

To add to the stress, Daniel is very aware of how many days till Christmas and how close we are to not making it home. This morning he said, "Only 16 days to get home for Christmas. Pray, pray, pray." It's the most depressing advent calendar countdown ever.

Thanks for letting me whine. I hate even wasting your time with these silly details. We are so blessed. There are people who have lost loved ones this past year and are facing unimaginable grief. There are people who have children who are critically ill and aren't sure if their child will even live to see next Christmas. This is so small in the grand scheme of things, yet to one little boy and his family . . . it seems like everything.

This is our "Hail Mary" shot with seconds left on the clock. The ball is in the air and we're waiting to see if it will make it into the hoop. Thanks for cheering in the stands and praying on our behalf.

Five . . . four . . . three . . . two. . . .

More Than Lots,
Kathie

The Little King and I

First, thanks so much for your prayers, encouraging e-mails, and comments below. It humbles me to think there are many, some who I don't even know personally, praying for us to come home.

Yesterday we went to the US Embassy again (Daniel calls it the US Emily). They needed one more document that fortunately we had in a file at home. Brad faxed it this morning and we were able to submit our file for pre-approval. Today and tomorrow are absolutely critical in determining if we can make it home before Christmas. We have got to get our notifications today, our certifications tomorrow and our new birth certificate this week to have any chance to be home by Christmas. PLEASE keep the prayers coming!

With each mommy moment here, my thoughts often go to remembering my own mom who died about 5 years ago. My mom loved musicals and with the invention of the VCR (yes, I remember when we first got one), Rogers and Hammerstein were frequent guests in our home. Now my own kiddos love them. A few weeks ago we watched "Fiddler on the Roof." The next day my 4 year old son was cracking me up walking around the house belting out "if I were a rich man. . . ." (Hmmm. With these adoption/hotel expenses and our evaporating bank account, perhaps this is what Brad's singing, too.)

The tune that seems to be playing here in the soundtrack of my mind is from "The King and I." I feel like Deborah Kerr in a big hoopskirt singing "getting to know you, getting to know all about you. . . ." Although we've visited Daniel a total of 16 times over the past 2 and 1/2 years, there's nothing like one-on-one time in a hotel room to really get to know someone.

I've learned if I'm sharing a bathroom with two 9 year old boys, NEVER EVER sit down on the toilet without first wiping the seat. I've also learned from Daniel that Tranformers are great fun, body functions/noises are universally funny, and the love of cars and anything electronic starts at a young age. I've seen a precious innocence that I was afraid was gone due to all he might have seen or experienced. The other night there was a kissing scene in an animated movie and he and Alex did their "eeewwwws" and covered their eyes till it was over. The boys also covered their eyes when we passed the woman's undergarment department at Hiper Piaz. So cute.

And he has learned that mom takes her eyes (contacts) out at night. (It freaked him out the first time he watched me.) He's learned that mom does something strange called sit ups. (How do you say "muffin top" in Spanish?) He knows that I'm a big kid with some gray hairs and wrinkles. And he knows that sometimes moms cry happy tears (especially his mama).

But as fun as it is "getting to know" him, it has been equally heartbreaking realizing how much I just don't know. With my other three I have photos from before they were even born and still the size of a peanut. I know of every tooth grown and lost, every favorite and every fear, every triumph and every disappointment. With Daniel I see actions and behaviors and don't know the history behind it or the future cure for it.

One example was from our first night in the hotel in Antigua. Our room door faced a common courtyard (previous hotels we had stayed in faced a hotel hallway). I could tell he didn't feel safe. He checked and double checked the locks many times and finally pushed a chair and table up against the door. He's done that many times here (he seems to be doing much better in our current room that is in the interior of the hotel). I can already see some food hoarding and food issues. The other night at dinner his meal was the last to come by several minutes. I could see the panic building that he wouldn't be fed. (I gave him my meal which he fortunately liked.) It breaks my heart to watch these things. I pray constantly for wisdom in parenting him.

Friday night I got a package with all my documents to be submitted to the USE. I knew inside was a copy of his abandonment decree that had been translated into English. I wasn't sure if I wanted to read it. I wanted so badly to know what had happened to him, yet didn't. I watched him sleep and looked at the scars on his scalp where the hair no longer grows, and the scar on his forehead, and a mark on the back of his neck that looks like a cigarette burn.

I finally opened the envelope. I first saw his original birth certificate with another woman's name listed under mother. I didn't realize how much it would bother me to see someone else's name where mine should be.

Then I started to read the abandonment decree with only the light from our silly Christmas lights. I had to hold the papers far from my face so my rain of tears wouldn't smear the ink on these documents. I won't share the details on my blog--it is Daniel's story to tell. But it helped me understand my son a bit better. It also helped me understand that Daniel has been given a second chance at having a mother--a role that previously was in his eyes synonymous with monster.

The days and months and years ahead may be challenging as he may test boundaries . . . and struggle to build trust . . . and try to understand unconditional love. But never have I been so grateful to be entrusted with such a job. Please keep praying us home!

More than lots,
Kathie

Nacho Night

Well, for those of you who have been reading my blog a while and know that I usually do something called "Sunday Dinner" (scripture served with a dessert of music), I won't be able to do it till I'm home. My playlist is only accessible in certain countries and apparently Guatemala isn't one of them. So for now it's going to be nacho night--this and that sprinkled on fragments of my life (I hope I don't give you indigestion).

We had a nice day today. It helps when we're able to do something fun. The coming week will be all business so we went to the zoo with Angela (another adopting mom), her adoptive son Alex and bio. son Joshua, and Tim (an adopting dad) and adoptive son Max. There are animals at this zoo that I'll probably never get to see anywhere else so it was a real treat.

Daniel delighted in every furry and feathered creature we saw--his favorites were a baby ocelote, the lions, and the monkeys. My favorites were the giraffes, the baby ocelote, and a cute little monkey named Daniel.

As we were leaving, Daniel asked for a stuffed animal to snuggle with at night (stuffed friends weren't allowed at his orphanage because of problems with lice). He picked a monkey that has a baby monkey attached to its back. I just tucked them in bed. So precious. I'm so glad he hasn't outgrown the need to cuddle.


Well, while I'm sharing "this and that" . . . I was bummed that I couldn't attend my church women's tea yesterday. I was supposed to speak and, well, haven't been able to figure out time travel, so I wrote something for the gathering and my sweet friend Amy read it for me. The theme of the tea was "What Can I Give?" I'm posting it below for anyone who couldn't be there and anyone else who finds gift-giving stressful.

As always, thanks for your love, prayers, and encouragement.

Buenos Noches,
Kathie

The Ultimate Gift Exchange

My blood pressure begins to rise as soon as the Christmas decorations appear at the mall. I know I should feel joy and peace in celebrating the season, but instead I feel a knot in my stomach. (Or perhaps it’s that Cinnabon I just inhaled.)

Anyway, the stress I’m feeling is simply the worry over not finding the perfect gift for every person on my list. I’ve actually been known to buy a gift, get it home and have gift-buyer’s remorse, and return it for something else. There’s a customer service gal at Target who knows me by name. She recommends gift cards for my affliction.

Can you imagine if the three wise men had been three wise women? They would have agonized over the gifts for the Baby Jesus. I can hear them now.

“We don’t really know his size,” comments Wise Woman One. “What if we get him an outfit and he’s already outgrown it.”

Then Wise Woman Two pipes up: “Remember that he’s been wearing nothing but swaddling clothes. I’m sure anything would be appreciated. If you enclose a gift receipt, they can always exchange it.”

Wise Woman Three expresses her opinion: “I think we should go with something personalized. Maybe something engraved with his name and birth date.”

Wise Woman Two reminds: “But we aren’t really certain of the actual date. Reading the stars can be so unpredictable and apparently Mary hasn’t gotten around to sending out a birth announcement.”

Well, you see how this could have been a disaster. Can you imagine the nativity set with one wise woman holding a gift receipt, another a Target bag, and another with a monogramed onesie. But if Biblical times are anything like modern day, the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh were probably bought and wrapped by the wise men’s wives anyway.

These days it’s all about having the perfect holiday, perfect decorations, perfect menu, and perfect gift, . . . it’s easy to fall into the trap that anything less is unworthy. I admit that I’m prone to HGTVism. But several years ago, one of my kiddos helped me see gift giving in a different way.

It was when Olivia was about 4 years old and was invited to one of her first birthday parties at a neighbor’s house. We were new to the neighborhood and Abby was her first little buddy. I remember displaying the invitation on the fridge and Olivia counting down the days on the calendar. We went to the store for the sole purpose of finding Abby the perfect gift. I don’t remember exactly what it was but remember it was an odd shape of plastic and cardboard packaging that would be a challenge to wrap.

I tried to talk Olivia into going with a gift bag (in my opinion it’s an invention right up there with electricity). But, no, she had picked out some princess wrapping paper and was determined to wrap it herself.

We got the item home and, as all good obsessive-compulsive disorder mommies would do, I tried to assist her efforts. She looked up with those big brown eyes and said, “Mommy, this is MY gift to Abby. I want to wrap this all by myself.”

She cut with her safety scissors and folded the paper carefully around the corners of the package. She secured that sucker with a thousand pieces of tape to make sure there was no chance of Abby seeing the surprise before it was time. But that was not enough. She searched through our box of stickers and adorned the package with an adhesive assortment of American flags, cartoon kittens, and red and pink hearts. And the final touches were sequins and feathers glued on top. And it looked . . . like it was in pain. Although the attached card read “To Abby, From Olivia” all I could see was “Help Me!”

It sat overnight on our dining room table. (However it’s hard to remember a time in my life that a birthday gift wasn’t bought on the way to a party and wrapped at red lights.) Brad saw the explosion of paper, tape, and feathers and commented: “It’s taking every bit of your will power not to rewrap it--isn‘t it?”

I blurted out: “Oh, how badly I want to! This is the first gathering with our new neighbors and we show up with THIS. I have beautiful paper and an assortment of curling and wired ribbons and cute little trimmings for the top. I could have done this present in plaid and polka dotted perfection!!!! What if they laugh at Olivia when she brings in her gift? But she is so proud of it, I just can’t rewrap it without breaking her heart.”

Well, we left for the party the next morning. Olivia insisted on carrying the gift. I was relieved because I didn’t want any credit for the gift-wrapped nightmare. We walked in to see a table of gifts that looked like they were taken from a Hallmark ad. I began to pray, “Oh, please God, don’t let anyone laugh at Olivia.”

Olivia ran to the birthday girl and handed Abby the gift. Liv was beaming ear to ear and said, “This is for you. I picked it out and wrapped it all by myself.” It was the longest pause at a birthday party I can remember (with the exception of a shindig where a tray of red-iced Elmo cupcakes spilled onto new white carpet). But Abby’s response was worth all the goodie bags in the world: “It’s soooooo beautiful!!! I love it!” All the other moms saw what was going on and piped up with “oh, I love the feathers, and, wow, that’s a great use of tape.”

It then occurred to me that the most precious gifts aren’t necessarily the ones that are perfectly packaged. They are the ones that are given with the greatest love. The most beautiful gift of song isn’t necessarily Celine Dion backed with a full orchestra . . . it’s a choir of children praising the Lord off-key. The most precious jewelry isn’t found in a blue box from Tiffany’s . . . it’s a necklace made from macaroni noodles delivered with a sticky kiss. And the most special gift isn’t one of extravagance . . . it’s one of complete sacrifice.

As I long to give myself as an offering to the only One who is perfect, I often feel like Olivia’s odd-shaped package . . . I want so badly to be a perfect reflection of my Creator yet most days I’m a mess of tape and feathers and poorly chosen stickers. I’m broken and flawed . . . how could a King so perfect love a servant so imperfect? What could I possibly give that shows the extent of my love for Him?

And then I remember Romans 5:8. The words move me to tears. “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (NIV)

Wow. He loved me as a sinner. Undeserving of grace. An offering of brokenness. Yet His gift to me was the sacrifice of Perfection, beautifully nailed to the cross.

So as you think about what you can give your King . . . give out of love, out of sacrifice, without concern of imperfections, without thought of what others will think of your humble offering. Don’t be a wise woman seeking a perfect gift for a perfect King. Be a living macaroni necklace delivered with a sticky kiss for your Heavenly Father.

The Suite (and Sweet) Life of Mother and Son

I'd give $10 for a Q-tip, $100 to have attended my church Christmas tea today, $1000 to be in my own bed tonight watching a Christmas movie with my crew at home, and all my worldly possessions to have my entire family under one roof forever. Yes, I'm still homesick.

But in this post, I'm not going to continue to depress you. It really isn't all bad here.(And I apologize again for the crazy things happening to my text on some posts. It often transposes words and caps words in the middle of sentences.)

Anyway, we're living a Third World version of The Suite Life of Zach and Cody and now that I know I can post pics from here without my laptop blowing up, I thought I'd give you a glimpse into this poorly written sitcom I'm stuck in.

This is our "Tipton Hotel." It's older than many of the nice hotels we could have chosen in Guatemala City but it has a lot of charm and has a very special ammenity--it's a two minute walk to the US Embassy. And since a Visa for Daniel is all our family wants for Christmas, it's like sleeping next to Toys R Us.


Daniel and Alex are our Zach and Cody, so I guess that would make me the mom who sings in the restaurant lounge. And if this adoption drags on much longer, that may be how I continue to pay to live here. But I'm thinking my Feliz Navidad, off-key, with a southern accent, would have me on kitchen duty pretty fast.


We have a small pool that's not heated but the weather has been so warm on most days it hasn't been a problem.(I can't believe it might snow in Georgia and we're wearing shorts here.)


This is in the little hotel restaurant.


They have great food and since we're usually the only ones in there it's been a good place to work on table manners. (Note: I would NOT use the salt and pepper shakers on tables 1 and 4. I'm just saying.)

The beds are for sleeping,


playing,


and jumping.

(Hey, there's nothing else to do so monkeys are allowed to jump on the bed if they are careful.)

We moved into a bigger room tonight because Alex's adoptive mom and brother joined us today. This is rub a dub dub, three cuties in the tub (the guest appearance in this pic is Joshua). The pool was cold today so we moved the swimming into the bathroom. (I don't think Daniel and Alex had ever been in a bathtub.)Daniel said, "Look, mama, I have a beard like Santa!"


Yes, you do see Christmas lights in the background of many of the pictures. When we went to Hiper Piaz (it's like Wal-Mart) last week we picked up some lights and other decorations for our room. I think Daniel and Alex are the cutest part of the display.


Daniel's face was precious when we turned the lights on and he squealed and clapped with joy. The hotel staff likes to peek in our window when the curtain is open and giggle at the craziness in our room.

I've watched enough Zach and Cody episodes to know that life at the Tipton is all about hijinks. And boy do we have hijinks. Like this morning when I discovered one of the boys had accidentally used my toothbrush. My choices were to risk getting whatever intestinal souvenir they might have or disinfect my toothbrush with tap water that isn't safe to drink. (Cue the laugh track.)

Or how about when my adoption attorney calls (I guess he's my Mr. Moesby) and says we have another error on our certifications and our judge has had a stroke and it will cost us a couple weeks. This is the episode where I pose as a flower delivery girl and show up at the hospital hoping he'll sign my documents. (No I didn't really do that but I did give it some serious thought.)

But the best part of this hotel life is the sweet time with my new son. The other night Daniel asked what were my favorite things about Christmas. First, I talked about the music, then got bummed that I haven't listened to one Christmas carol since I left the day after Thanksgiving. (My playlist isn't accessible from Guatemala and it's killing me that I can't even add my favorite Christmas tunes to my blog.)

Then I talked about the silly traditions we have as a family, favorite Christmas treats, and how we have "pajama rides" in the car to look at lights. Then I told him how much I love lights--white, colored, flashing, icicle. I think he could tell I was getting homesick just talking about it all.

As I was getting the boys ready for bed we heard some commotion outside our door. Daniel peeked out the window to see what was going on and exclaimed, "Mama, come look!!!!" This is what we saw when they were done.


Here I am, far from home, wishing I could be looking at lights with my whole family, instead of stuck here watching the Christmas season come and go. Yet God makes sure I have a bit of Christmas cheer hung right outside my door. God is so good to me.

Feliz Navidad,
Kathie

Stretch Marks

It's the middle of the night here. There's a man vomiting in the hotel room next door. I've not had good luck with these paper thin hotel room walls. I'm wishing I had packed ear plugs.

We actually had a very nice day yesterday. The boys got to swim in the pool and this afternoon we saw "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs" with some friends.(You can see in the pic that the Spanish version is called something like "Raining Hamburgers." The boys loved it. (Me, too, even though it was in Spanish.)

But the sweet time I'm having with Daniel is clouded by the stress of trying to get us home. I feel Christmas in Georgia is slipping away. I learned tonight from our attorney that our certifications won't be ready till Wednesday of next week. We'll have two days left to do 2 weeks of the process. We're running out of days before our family court and the US Embassy take Christmas break.

Daniel stops everything a few times a day and says, "Can we pray, pray, pray that we'll be home for Christmas?" And we stop what we're doing. And pray. And pray some more. He's giddy at the thought of waking up Christmas morning at home. I asked him if Christmas was fun at his orphanage. I know that the director and staff work so hard to provide Christmas for more than 450 children. Daniel replied that the gifts are nice but that time only lasts a few minutes. He said the rest of the day was sad because he didn't have a family. He shared that last year was special because he had sweet dorm parents. They provided stockings for the boys and showed a movie and had popcorn. He said that was the happiest Christmas of his life. Then added, "But I know this one will be even better because now I have a family."

There have been many things about this adoption that have stretched me. Sometimes it's good to be stretched beyond your comfort zone. I'm surrendered to God's way, His timing, and His sovereignty like never before. My heart is broken for orphans--I've seen things and loved in ways that I never imagined and I can't go back to my comfortable ignorance.

But there are things that I haven't gotten used to. I can't bear to be away from my children (bio. and adopted). I used to skip the church women's retreat because two nights was too much time away. But I've traveled several times during this adoption--usually for 5 or 6 days. I've been away 8 days so far this time with no end in sight and my heart hurts. I called home tonight and it didn't help to hear them crying on the other end asking when Daniel and I will be home. It makes it harder that it's the Christmas season and I'm not there for their Christmas programs and parties, baking cookies, and singing carols to the top of our lungs together. I don't like stretch marks.

I'm like a pregnant woman who screams for an epidural after the first contraction. There are many families who have been living here since April trying to finish their adoptions. One such family finally brings their son home today!!!! (Congrats to the Lee family!!!) And then there are men and women who serve our country who are away from their families for months and years. And missionaries who answer God's call to serve overseas far from their loved ones. Now those are stretch marks. I have no room to complain.

I was homesick the other night at dinner. I decided to introduce some of the dinner talk with we do at home with Daniel and his buddy Alex (a little guy that I'm also taking care of). First we did our "high" of the day (I didn't want to mention any "lows"). Then I asked the boys to name something that we loved about the other. First Daniel and I shared about Alex, then Alex and I shared about Daniel. Then Daniel piped up: "Now it's your turn, Mama." He had been in a silly mood so I was expecting something funny but he got very serious and sweetly said, "I love you because you're a great mama." Oh, I added some tears to my nachos for sure. Just those simple words helped me go another few days on this journey.

Please continue to "pray, pray, pray" (as Daniel says) for God to work a miracle and bring us home by Christmas. Thanks for your love and support.

More Than Lots,
Kathie

Black Friday, Saturday, Sunday . . .

First, thanks to all of you for your encouraging comments here, via e-mail and on Facebook. I cherish each real live friend, each bloggy friend, and even you gender-neutral silhouette follower folks. It's your prayers and encouragement that keep me from going crazy.

Sorry I did not get a chance to update yesterday. I have much to share but we've been doing the chicken/no head routine for the past couple of days. When we got in last night I was going to update but the boys wanted to watch a Christmas movie on my laptop. (No DVD player in the hotel room.) And being in one room together, I have to go to bed when they do because the light from the computer screen keeps them awake.

Picking up where I left off. . . I'm happy to report that I now have minutes on my cell phone (in Guat. the phones are a pay as you go kind of deal), the boys have clean underpants, and I've gotten two good nights of sleep. Life is good.

And better news. . . they have assigned a temporary family court judge (huge answer to prayer) and we were able to get one of our critical documents we needed(another biggie). But we are far from out of the woods. We really need to get in and out of Renap (they issue the new birth certificate) next week to avoid encountering problems because our court is about to go on vacation. We're still waiting on certifications, but are hopeful they will be done next week. This is going to be a nail-biter (and I'm already down to my knuckles).

Monday afternoon we got Daniel's HIV test. He is my son right down to the fear of needles. I had hoped that this would entail to fingerprick, but, no, this was a full vial from the arm needed. We (me and the nurses) had to lasso him like a calf at a rodeo. Then I held him in my lap with my arms like the straps on an electric chair. This was not one of my favorite mommy moments of this adoption. I did the whole "I wish I could do this for you" speech (and truly meant it), but he just gave me that "how could you" look. They gave him a lollipop as a reward but he never ate it. It would be admitting that he was okay with the injustice. Daniel cried and moaned for another 20 minutes - his wails echoed throughout the mall that contained the medical lab. Just one more reason for people to stare at this woman the color of Desitin diaper cream with her beautifully pigmented son. Good times.

We were also able to take Alex to the doctor and we got him an antibiotic. (He's slowly feeling better.) But first we had to go to three pharmacies to find his prescription. I will never again complain about having a pharmacy on every corner at home. We just do not appreciate how easy life is or how blessed we are until we go to another country.

Yesterday the boys and I went to Hiper Piaz (Wal-mart in Guatemala) then to their former orphanage to say good-bye. Bittersweet. I'll share more about that later. Today I picked up the HIV test results and gathered papers to be translated for the USE.

When I left for Guatemala it was "Black Friday" in the states-the day that retailers hope Christmas shoppers will put their numbers in the black. Well, I'm here Christmas shopping for one very special item. If only there had been a "30 percent off wait for certifications" or a "free with every passport Visa" deal in the newspaper.

The only thing our family wants for Christmas is to have Daniel home and the only thing Daniel wants for Christmas is to be home. So each day I try to put our documents in the black. Please keep praying that each day brings us closer to coming home.

More than lots,
Kathie