Ponder This…

Passage to Ponder:
“He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life.” Revelation 21:6 (NIV)

Welcome to the beginning of a new year!  Excitement is in the air, resolutions are being made and we  wonder what this year will bring.  God wants to do something brand new in your life this year.  Are you up for it?  In order to fully receive all the benefits He has in store, you will have to do one thing: leave the old year behind. “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.  See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:18,19)

God desires to do new things in you but you must forget the past and not dwell on it.  Don’t go over and over it in your mind, trying to figure it out or make sense of it.  It’s exhausting and you’ll end up right back where you started.  The mind is an interesting organ, for you cannot ruminate the past and move ahead at the same time.  Moving ahead takes determination and mental energy and apparently our mind can only do one or the other, but not both.  God says, “I’m doing a new thing, can’t you see it?”  If our eyes are in the back of our heads we can’t see what God is doing right before our very eyes.

He is making a way in the desert of your circumstances and that Way is paved by Jesus Christ.  He is also making streams in the your wastelands.  And if you are thirsty, God has provided a source of refreshment and nourishment for your weary soul.  That source is none other than Jesus, the Living Water. He’s the God of new beginnings, second chances and fresh starts.  Don’t bother with resolutions.  They rely too much on human effort.  Instead, this year make a new beginning or a fresh start.  Jesus the Alpha can help with that, in fact, He will start it and finish it.

Alpha is of Hebrew origin and refers to the first letter of the Greek alphabet.  It means figuratively to be first.  Jesus Christ was there when it all began, when God said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness..” (Genesis 1:26) We also see in John 1:1-3  that, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning . Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.” Not to sound childish, but He started it.  As the Alpha, the First and the Beginning, He was certainly qualified to do so. Through Him all things are made and re-made, even you.

This is going to be a great year.  Thank you so much for sharing your Christmas and New Year with me.  I have enjoyed the journey, I hope you have as well. “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”  (Romans 15:13)

Ponder this:
Walk into this year holding the hand of your Savior.  Make this your prayer today, “But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13)  Your destiny awaits you.

© 2010 Amy Brady Ministries. All Rights Reserved

This is an excerpt from Amy’s Christmas devotional entitled, “A Way in a Manger”. It is currently sold out, but will be reprinted in 2011. For more information on Amy’s  Bible study workbooks, DVD’s, and CD’s, please visit, www.amybrady.com.

Well, ladies. Two more days to go. It’s down to the wire. Are you ready? Are you sick of people asking you if you’re ready? The big day is almost here: Christmas. There is something about Christmas that warms our heart and strikes fear into it all at the same time. I think this time of year is when we women remember our Christmases as children the most. You know, back when someone provided Christmas for you, instead of you being the party planner. Don’t get me wrong. I love Christmas, always have. But as with everything else in our country, Christmas has become one more thing to overwhelm us and make us feel like we just can’t quite get it together.

Do you bake the goodies or buy them? Do you use gift bags and make it easy or wrap the presents so they can rip into them? Do you have guests for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day or keep it low-key so you can actually remember what happened on those days a week from now? Do you make everything from scratch or take some short-cuts? Do you give them everything they asked for and go into debt over it or do you provide what you can and hope they’ll learn that they just can’t have it all? Do you squeeze in every Christmas festival, Santa sighting, cookie exchange and party or opt to do only a few things and cut down on the stress and frankly, the expense? Did you make sure your children understood that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday and not Santa’s? I mean, did I emphasize that enough, oh my, what if I didn’t because I was just too busy with other thoughts and projects?

Somewhere in all this is one thought: I am responsible for the success and failure of Christmas for a whole lot of people.

Hmmm….let’s just calm down and step back for a minute. Really? Do we really believe this? I have good news for you today and for me. We’re just not that good. We are not so amazing as human beings that we could actually be responsible for the success or failure of someone’s Christmas. A rather co-dependent thought, don’t you think? People’s reactions are just that…their reactions and it’s between them and Jesus. If they have an awesome Christmas, it’s because they chose to, not because you made it happen for them. Sure, your rum balls and your baked ham may have made their event a little more stellar than if they hadn’t had those creature comforts but if rum and ham is all its about in their world, heaven help them. Yet another opportunity for the Holy Spirit to remind them of the REAL reason for our celebration of the Christ child.

If you’re child wanted that $400 phone and didn’t get it and they pout, well, welcome to life and sorry, Santa doesn’t exist. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound blunt and fierce, but ladies let’s wake up!!!! Our kids will never be what we dream they will become, being given every toy they cry for. Not to mention the millions of kids their age all across the world getting zip on Christmas morn. “Oh, but that’s so far away.”, you say. Yes, it is, but I am convinced that none of us appreciate what we do have until we’ve had a healthy dose of knowing what others do not have. Appreciation doesn’t come naturally, its taught. So if you couldn’t provide the Christmas of THEIR dreams this year, console yourself knowing you provided them a much better gift that will keep on giving: the feeling of want. None of us needs to have every want met, it just doesn’t make us better. In fact, it makes us bitter. Because every time a want is met without any effort on our part, it is fulfilled, yet not satisfied. The very nature of want is a bottomless pit that is never filled. The only thing to fill it is Jesus and I’m sure you are giving that in every way you can. Consider yourself successful.

Do not let this season come and go without sitting by yourself, alone, in the dark if you can, surrounded by Christmas lights and maybe some carols. Sit, reflect, pray, dream, wish, thank and rest. If its early in the morning, late at night, during a child’s nap, just do it…somehow. Give yourself the gift of peace, the gift of rest, the gift of being, rather than doing. Don’t try to make it happen all on your own. Tell God this is what you want and watch Him move heaven and earth to get you there. Take it off your to-do list that is drowning your brain at this moment and give it to Jesus.

Don’t let the Enemy of your soul be a guest in your home this Christmas. He wants to drop little black bundles all along your path today and the days ahead. Bundles of stress, anxiety, fear, being overwhelmed, irritable, exhausted. Bundles of expectations, fear of failing expectations, not measuring up, not getting it all done, not making people happy. Don’t pick up the bundles, don’t carry those burdens. I’ve had to say out loud a number of times in the past few weeks, “I will not pick up that little black bundle of (you fill in the blank).” And when I do, Jesus comes behind me and picks it up for me, Gentleman that He is. When I look back, its gone. I came across this poem several years ago in my beloved, Streams in the Desert devotional. I think it is no mistake that it is in the December 23rd entry. I believe the author knew we ladies would need it right about now and interestingly it seems that even over 60 years ago, women were weary at Christmas. Somethings never change, I guess. Weary we may be, but that is why we have Jesus. He has come to remind us in the midst of this celebration (for Him…) that He came for our craziness. I am so glad He did.

Merry Christmas friend…

It was the last Christmas stocking. For years it was a symbol of a dream. It reminded me of a desire placed within me, as a child. Every year all the decorations were put on display, but this one decoration stayed in the Christmas box. After several years, seeing it began to make my heart heavy. I began to lose sight of that dream or at least the belief that it would ever be my reality.

Twelve years ago, before my youngest son was born, I came across the sweetest stockings I had ever seen. They are still the sweetest stockings I’ve yet to see. I had been looking for my boys’ “official” stocking, the one they would use their entire childhood,  to hold the goodies Santa stuffed inside. I finally found them. As I picked up two, something inside said, “No. Get three.” Three?? I haven’t even had my second baby yet, why would I need three? Then I remembered a conversation my husband and I had in the wee hours of the morning on the Christmas Eve that he proposed to me. I told him I wanted three children. If I had three children then all their stockings would match. If I didn’t have three, I could give it to someone special and find it a good home.

Year after year, I pulled that stocking out and sighed. The year before I went to China, the first time, I came across that stocking again. I said, “Lord. I have desired to adopt a child as long as I can remember. It looks like it will never happen, but I know you have given me a heart for orphans. So, please, either take the desire to adopt away from me or give me another way to touch the life of an orphan. Because my heart can’t stand to unpack this stocking one more time.” I  never imagined what the next year of my life would hold.

After I returned from mission work in China, our whole family felt the call of God to move forward with the dream of adoption from China. That Christmas I was so excited to pull out the stocking, knowing it would now belong to our daughter. I was so happy I had bought it all those years ago and that I kept it. Once the weight of the wait settled in though, Christmas became a milestone marker of how many Christmases we were missing with her. I would look at the stocking and begin to wonder again, how long it would be before her stocking was hung, with her name monogrammed on the front, waiting to be stuffed with goodies and love. Each year was tougher than the one before, as the adoption timeline for China lengthened.

Then last year we began to feel called to special needs. I never dreamed in a million years that this year the stocking would finally fulfill its purpose. I just had Hope’s named monogrammed on the front of her stocking. She and I hung it together. As I put it in its place my spirit cried out, “God YOU ARE FAITHFUL!!!!” As I saw her name, Hope, on that stocking, it was speaking to me of the beauty of hope, the beauty of the journey of God’s faithfulness. The road was long, bumpy and hard, but it was worth it and my God was faithful. Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled onto my face, as Hope looked on. She wasn’t sure what MaMa was feeling, so I assured her they were tears of joy. Utter, complete joy. Longing fulfilled. A heart satisfied. Hanging her stocking, for me, was the culmination of the journey. As one journey ends, another begins. It was the last line in a long chapter of our lives. Of my life.

God did what He said He would do. He kept His promise. He never left my side. He never left Hope’s side either. He finished the job. He began a good work. He carried it to completion. And our lives will never be the same. Praise His Holy Name.

“And I am convinced and sure of this very thing, that He Who began a good work in you will continue until the day of Jesus Christ [right up to the time of His return], developing [that good work] and perfecting and bringing it to full completion in you.”  (Philippians 1:6) (AMP)

 Amy Brady Ministries has made it into the new millennium! We have just published our first book on Kindle. This year we decided to break ground into the ebook phenomenon by publishing my Christmas devotional, A Way in a Manger, through Amazon’s Kindle Store. You can order it by clicking this link:A Way in a Manger-Kindle

Whether you have a Kindle or not, you can still enjoy the ease of the ebook format. Just visit the iTunes store, download the Kindle app and you can access A Way in a Manger through Kindle to be used on your iPhone, iPad, etc. Just click here for apps: Apps for reading A Way in a Manger

Now, if you are like me and you are still not on the e-reader train, and you still love the smell of ink and paper and the feel of a page between your fingers, you can order a paper copy of the devotional from our website by clicking here: A Way in a Manger – Paperback

Thanks for letting me share this excitement with you! My new assistant Brittney was a big part of making this happen…she is a total gift from God! Thanks Britt! And lastly, if you order it through Kindle, I would really appreciate it if you would consider taking a moment to write a review. Thanks!

Merry Christmas!

Amy

He turned 17 today. My oldest son, Austin. How can that be? I was just beginning to push at this very moment 17 years ago. Realizing that I was about to give birth. That little baby sticking its toes in my ribs, keeping me up at night, putting me through 24 hours of labor was about to emerge and change my life forever. I had no idea how much.

I remember them placing him on my chest and I was literally trembling. It was the most surreal moment of my life. Utterly surreal. He was squirming and crying and yet, when we locked eyes, we knew each other well and I knew that I was ruined. For life. I would never look at a street full of cars the same way again. Or monkey bars. Or hot dogs cut into circles just small enough for a baby esophagus. I would never sleep again until he was home, safe and tucked into bed. I would worry, cry, make mistakes and wish at the end of the day that I could do it again, for all sorts of reasons.

I had no idea how to be a mother. I’d read a lot, I always do. Sometimes it does me more harm than good, especially when its the kind of reading meant to increase knowledge. Frankly, it’s just too much of a good thing at times. I wanted to breast feed, but couldn’t. I wanted to have the guts to go natural, but didn’t. I wanted to be able to put him in his bed and sleep in mine, but I couldn’t and he couldn’t and thus the family bed became a luxury and a sanity saver for us all. I wanted to keep him from hurting himself, but we’d been to the ER twice before the age of 2, only the beginning in a looooong list of ER visits in his life, one as recent as this past February and unfortunately the worst yet. I wanted to be mature, but didn’t do well there either, especially the time that a young girl broke his heart and I wanted to snatch her bald.head.ed. I had so many hopes and dreams of the kind of mother I would be. Some I’ve accomplished, many I have not.

I use to grieve deeply my weaknesses as a Mom and still do at times. But several years ago as I weeped to God about not being what I want to and should be for them, He told me this. “I will never allow you to be everything your children need. For if you are their everything, they will have no need of Me. I have allowed you to have shortcomings, weaknesses and even failings with your children. I knew all of these would occur and still chose you to be their Mom. One day, those are some of the things that will lead them to Me. Let me work.” That has comforted me more times than I can count.

But it was the birth of my first born, Austin, that saved my life. I had been running from Jesus for over 10 years. When I found out that I was expecting him I felt heartbroken that he would have such a broken mommy as me. I grieved for him. And God used that grief to bring me to repentance and back into His arms again. My life has never been the same. What I could not seem to do for myself, I felt was worth trying to do so that my son would have the kind of mother he deserved. He does deserve much better even now, but it’s far better than the one he was about to receive 17 years ago today. I have only One to thank for that. My Heavenly Father and His precious First Born Son, Jesus. Father knew how a first born can change your world, can change THE world, so I know He knew my first born was just the right thing to bring me home for good, to stay, forever.

Happy Birthday to a most amazing, emerging young man. You have a heart of gold. You dream big and I love that. You are adventurous and thought it has caused me a few ulcers, I totally love it. Your Momma’s pretty adventurous too. You have incredible character, even when no one is watching. If everyone had a teenager like you, they’d never dread the teen years, they’d wish that they would never end. I love your ability to make friends, the way you care about people and the fact that you give great hugs. I know and have not one ounce of doubt that God has something BIG for you in this life and even bigger in the one to come. My prayer is that you will love the Lord God who saved you and used you to save your Momma, with everything you’ve got. May He bless you, keep you and make His face shine upon you and give you peace. And that Lamborghini you so want.

The end was near. We were leaving this day for the last leg of our journey and perhaps one of the toughest. I had spent most of the night before packing. My life the past month or two revolved, it seemed, around two things: paperwork and packing. I am not complaining. Both brought me to the newest phase of our journey to and with Hope. All our bags, like a cruise, had to be outside our doors by 11pm. Doing that with a family of five should definitely have earned me a few extra jewels in my crown in heaven, but whose keeping score?

The next day’s events were pretty simple. Get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, have a travel meeting in the lobby and wait for the bus to take us to the airport. Any schedules these kiddos had adjusted to since Gotcha Day were about to be interrupted and I was anxious to see how that would play out for Hope. At this point, things were getting real with our family and Hope. The grieving tantrums continued, usually sparked by the boys’ leaving or me having to say “No” to something she wanted, but couldn’t have. Toddler tantrums had begun to emerge because of the language barrier. She or I tried to communicate something, the other one didn’t understand or got it wrong and a meltdown would begin for Hope. If you think it’s hard to ward off a tantrum and its ensuing power struggle with a child who speaks your language, and I know that one from personal experience too, you should try your hand at a tantrum with a child whom you cannot calm down because she doesn’t understand a word you are saying or why you are saying it. An anxiety began to build up inside of me, a fear of sorts, that I would not be able to handle her on the plane or in a public situation where retreating to the hotel room was not an option.

A pervading thought of this day for me was, “My little girl is leaving one home for another today. This is the day she says good-bye to the province of her birth for a long time, possibly forever.” I began to think of her Shengmu, birthmother. Did she sense something today? I couldn’t help but wonder. Today Hope was leaving the old and beginning the new. Today was the first big step toward the new life awaiting her in her new home of America.

When we stepped outside the hotel in Zhengzhou that morning, we were met with a totally unexpected drop in temperature of almost 20 degrees. The bellman said, “It is Autumn.” And I thought, “Oh, that actually means something here.” In Florida, Autumn means more heat, not a change in season, much to my fall-lover’s dismay. Thankfully, Melinda had given me some sweaters, while we were in Beijing, that her girls had outgrown. Hope had a sweater and I had brought a cardigan, but it still wasn’t enough. I began to get a little excited though that we might enjoy some fall weather on our trip. My guide shot that enthusiasm down immediately when she told me Guangzhou would be hotter than Zhengzhou. I am destined to “burn up”, as we Southerners say, the rest of my life apparently. Wherever I go, I seem to bring the heat with me.

We got to the airport in plenty of time, but I had all the juice and baby food items confiscated at the gate due to liquid violations and other things lost in translation. I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep the formula once the inspectors had stuck their noses in it 100 times trying to figure out what it was, even though I had told them and my translator had told them a ga-zillion times. But here’s the thing, when you are in another country you don’t have the luxury of throwing needed items, like formula, away. You have to just plead the blood of Jesus over i, use it and move on!

Hope had become enamored with flowers. She loved to see them, point them out and smell them. I remember saying to the Lord, “I wish I could find a plush flower of some kind that we could have to remember this time with her.” I had never seen such a thing and knew that my chances of finding it in China were pretty slim. My mentor has often said, “Sometimes God answers your thoughts.” And He did just that in the Zhengzhou airport, because in a gift shop next to our gate, I found a beautiful plush pink flower and Hope loved it. Her Daddy had the pleasure of being the first man in her life to buy her flowers. She still has it to this day and it is in her room for display and to remember that God cares about it all, even plush flowers for His girl.

We boarded the flight to Guangzhou and quickly found that Hope had some kind of severe and negative experience lurking in her past with regards to restraints. It could be she was strapped to the potty chair to produce urine and bowel movements on the schedule of the orphanage or it could be from being restrained in her hospital bed when she had open heart surgery. We will probably never know unless she has a memory she can share with us as she grows older. Either way, she reacted as if we were holding her down by force when we tried to put on her seat belt. She screamed and kicked and pulled it off and tried to climb out. We were exhausted and hadn’t even reached our cruising altitude. She didn’t really sleep the whole flight and honestly I was concerned she would and then when we got to the hotel, we’d be dealing with a toddler who was up all night and totally out of whack.

When we landed in Guangzhou, it was past 10:00 pm. We. were. exhausted. again. That was like a haze. I just remember being moved along in groups. I remember landing. Bathrooms. Baggage claim. Walking. Walking. Walking. Bathrooms again. Bus. Bus ride to Shamian Island and The White Swan hotel. Waiting for room assignments and crashing when we got there.  The one thing that sticks out in my mind the most, was coming over the bridge to the island and seeing tall buildings with the lights on inside and people at factory equipment and sewing desks working. It was midnight or later at this point. I thought to myself, “So this is what ‘Made in China’ looks like. These people are working in poor conditions and long hours to provide just about every item in my house. I see the finished product, but these are the hands that labor.” I felt a sadness in my heart for them. I’m happy they have a way to provide for their families and so are they, but a sadness to know that it often comes at such a high price. One I easily take for granted.

This would be a busy week, a trying week, a week of many blessings; each one taking us one step closer to home.

Our last morning in Zhengzhou.

Hope says good-bye to the province of her birth today.

buh-rek-fust!!!!!

One view of our hotel. The difference between the inside and life on the outside is staggering.

My girl is a bundle of joy and jumping.

Justin and Greg playing thumb war for the 100th time.

Good-bye Zhengzhou!

Our sweet men on the road again.

Taming the toddler.

“Why does it take so long?”

If I had a dime for every time I’ve been asked that question in regards to our adoption in China, we would’ve been able to pay cash for our trip there. “Why did it take three years for the adoption to be completed?”, I’m often asked. Honey, there is not enough space on this blog for me to answer that one. Besides, there are entire websites devoted to answering that question. Google it. If God had not moved on our hearts to go into the special needs program, we would still be waiting another 3-4 years. At that point, we’d begin to make Abraham and Sarah look like adolescents.

The other “why does it take so long?” question was in regards to the length of our stay in China. Our trip was longer than most but we were dodging an international trade fair in one city and we had to hang out for Mid-Autumn Festival in another. The trip in total was 19 days. I call it 20 b/c we arrived back in Orlando a half hour before midnight of the 20th day. Each city we were in had a purpose. Beijing was for us to gather as a group, get our sea legs, adjust to the time zone, the food, the culture and then move onto the next province, the one in which our child was from. In the province of their birth or their orphanage, we would meet our child and adopt our child. That province would generate a passport for them, needed not only to leave the province, but to  leave the country.

The next location for every family who adopts from China is Guangzhou. You’ll hear lots about that in a few days. I always say, in Chinese adoption, all roads lead to Guangzhou. It is the location of the US Consulate. The stay in Guangzhou is to do all of the necessary steps and PAPERWORK to generate the child’s visa, which enables he/she to leave their country of birth and land in the country of their life as an official citizen. You are in Guangzhou for at least 4-7 days. So if you are following this Brady journey of epic proportions, we are only halfway through the journey. Tired yet? Believe me, I know.

On Day 10, our time in Zhengzhou was coming to a close. I will say again, these last three days there run together a bit for me. I need to consult my travel partners in my family and my travel group family to help re-fresh my memory, but I just don’t have the time as of yet. I will, soon. Days 9 & 10 may be transposed here, but you don’t really care, do you? I didn’t think so. For all intents and purposes we will assign Day 10, the day we went to the Henan Provincial Museum. We had to get out of the hotel. There is not a whole lot to do in Zhengzhou and you don’t have a whole lot of energy at this point to do much anyway. I had heard or read about the museum and thought, “What the heck. We have nothing to lose. At least we’ll get out of the hotel. (Can’t really say for fresh air, but out nonetheless.) And it would be good to learn more about her province. Besides, I love learning about China.”

We hailed a cab or should I say a Yugo, to go to the museum. Chinese cabs are crazy small. John was in the front and my 6 foot son and my almost 6 foot son were in the back with their Mom and sister. Hope sat on my lap, no car seat. We ain’t in Kansas anymore.

They cab driver spoke no English and you know we weren’t speaking Chinese, but John gave it all he had when it came to communication. Even though I had to remind him a few times that the guy didn’t know English, he tried anyway. We arrived at the museum and we thought the driver went to pay for parking, but he came back with tickets to the museum for our family and himself. “Oh. Okay, so he goes with us. Hmmm. Awkward, but, when in Rome…do as the Romans do.” We could tell he’d been here before, so I kind of felt like we had a guide too. We were quite impressed with the museum. It was very clean and extremely well kept. The exhibits were pretty spectacular. We learned a lot about the province of Hope’s birth and her people. The looks from other patrons were quite interesting. We were the only “white” people in the museum AND we were carrying a Chinese child. For some people, this may have been a first to see with their own eyes. And I love that the questions inevitably begin swirling in their minds.

“Why would they come this far to adopt a daughter?”

“Why would they want an orphaned child?”

“Why would they want a “broken” baby?” (Special needs children are considered “broken” in China.)

“They have two sons. Isn’t that enough?”

“How can they love a child who doesn’t look like them?”

I love the thought of God using these questions to begin to stir their hearts and begin to cause them to wonder that such a love exists that it would go to the ends of the Earth to find and redeem a lost child. Just think of the implications of that in their lives! I know the Holy Spirit is all over it.

At the end of our tour, we headed, like good Orlando people, to the gift shop. It’s what we’ve been trained to do, ya’ll. I wanted to see if there was a book on her province we could purchase. Instead I found several children’s books for her, all in Mandarin, of ‘course, but I wanted her to have some. There was even a book of Disney Princess stories in Mandarin. Yes, I’m serious. Yes, I bought it.

What made the tour most interesting was the young man we met in the bookstore. The clerk simply glared at us. Not sure what her problem was with us (there could be many things), but this young guy, saw us and got so excited. He was almost giddy.

He came up to us and said, “Los Angeles?”

“Uh….Los Angeles? You mean, do we live in Los Angeles?”

“Yes. Los Angeles. Kobe Bryant.”, he replied.

“Oh. No, we live in Orlando.”, I said.

“Dwight Howard. Orlando, Dwight Howard. You live there. You know him?”, he inquired.

We chuckled. “Well, no. We live near his house, but we don’t know him. Orlando, yes.”, we continued.

From there, he and my oldest son, Austin struck up some kind of NBA conversation and this young man, who I thought was the bravest kid in the world, got to practice his English, which is a high privilege in China. I’ve been told that Chinese look for opportunities  to practice their English on Westerners. He asked tons of questions and walked with us all the way out to the cab. Our driver was a little annoyed by him, but my Austin, treated this young man with such dignity. Austin felt as privileged as this young man did to be having such a dialogue.  There is something beautiful that happens when you go abroad. When you talk with another human being with whom the only thing you have in common is your Creator, your world becomes so small and yet so big all in one moment. You realize that countries and continents are made up of real, live human beings with dreams, hopes and personality just like you. You also realize that the world is much bigger than you are, a thought that would be good for all of us to remember from time to time.

The young man exchanged an email I believe and asked us if we wanted to come and visit him while here. He promised that his mother would be so happy to meet us and would prepare for us a great meal. As a Southern-bred woman, this reaches into my heart and tugs it till it hurts. What hospitality, what selflessness, what desire to interact with someone from another land. Someone who could enlighten him, someone who could encourage him, someone who could inspire him. We weren’t the only family I know of who have been invited to dinner by a Chinese man or woman they met on the adoption journey. These are the people I love. God has placed the Chinese on my heart and though we differ in ways and beliefs, there is a humility the common Chinese possess that moves me to have compassion upon them and long to be there again someday. As we got inside the cab, he gave Austin a huge hug, and me and pinched Hope’s cheeks and spoke something to her in Mandarin. The Chinese are not physically affectionate people. I don’t think we can fathom what this God-ordained meeting meant to this man. And it was moving for us as well.  Please join me in praying that God will shine His Light into this man’s heart and into his darkness and save his soul. I love the thought of seeing him again one day, not at the supper of his mother, but at the wedding supper of our Heavenly Father.

When we got back to the hotel, we got out of the cab and John paid the driver. John simply asked how much, thought it was a reasonable price and paid him. The bellman at the hotel was outraged. He began talking to our driver in Mandarin and they exchanged some very heated words. Best we can figure, and after talking with other families who went to the museum as well, he grossly overcharged us. But the amount he quoted we felt, was still reasonable, maybe because we look at it from a perspective of what’s reasonable here in the States. Either way, we really felt that if he swindled us, it didn’t matter. He had a family to feed on an income that was less than our cable bill, so we just hoped the extra would bless his family somehow. It’s between him and His maker if he was dishonest.

We topped off our day in Zhengzhou, our last full day there, with a travel group family dinner. Several of us decided to go to a restaurant that was “supposedly” good. I’m laughing as I type this because the memories of that dinner still make me laugh every time I think of it. It was a quintessential Chinese moment. We all come into the restaurant. They looked confused as to what to do because we Americans, well, we move tables to accommodate ourselves, you know? And, uh, apparently they don’t do that in China. So when we start moving tables or trying to, the staff are quite confused, looking around as if to say, “Can we do that?”. We Americans say, “Of course you can! Here…do it like this!” After working out that one without translation, except for the Holle’s 10 year old Greg, we sat down to order. This is where the fun really began. American restaurants are use to large groups and multiple orders and checks. I think this was a first for the Cow and Bridge Restaurant (not to be confused with the Cow and Bridge in Guangzhou…a joke for Group 1639). Our meal ended up with some people getting food, some didn’t, ever….the whole meal. I mean, they ordered, got nothing and had sat at the table the whole time with no dinner. When they tried to explain it to the server, she was more confused than ever. When in China, just go with it, there is really no other option. The “steak” was believed, by travel Dad Kevin who served in the military overseas, to in fact be goat rather than beef, which would explain a lot in the texture and smell of the meat. This is where things got hilarious. Some ate it and said goat isn’t all that bad after all. Others were totally grossed out. Thankfully what I ordered wasn’t goat and Hope and I ate what we could stomach. We all left the restaurant laughing the whole way back to the hotel.

Tomorrow morning we would leave for Guangdong Province and the city of Guangzhou, specifically The White Swan Hotel on Shamian Island. This would prove to be an oasis of sorts as not only did it cater to Western ways even more but it had a Starbucks on the island.

Come. To. Momma!!!!!!!!!!

Getting ready for our day at the museum. Hope hasn't quite perfected the relationship with the camera here or the concept of "Cheese!!!!" We'll work on that in months to come.

Enormous statues in the atrium of the museum.

John and our driver. You'd be amazed how much you can communicate with someone who speaks another language. It's a beautiful thing.

Looking at artifacts from the Henan province.

Our family in the museum. Photo taken by our driver.

Our precious Kobe Bryant friend working out the translation with Austin.

An unforgettable dining experience.

It’s all starting to run together a bit for me. It did then, it does now. Our last few days in Zhengzhou, Henan’s capitol city, are a bit of a blur. As Hope bonded more and more with the boys, I sensed she may be missing her orphanage-mates. Her whole life, the one she can consciously remember, she was in a crowd and surrounded by children. She slept in a room with over 20 other children and they slept 2 and 3 to a bed. They ate in groups, they played in groups, they bathed in groups, dressed in groups and even the potty chairs were lined up along the walls in groups. Over the next few days and into our week in Guangzhou, Hope would begin to react with deep grief every time Austin and Justin would leave our hotel room. I think she felt safety in numbers and comforted by their youth.

I really want to honor her privacy regarding her grief. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t blog from China. A lot of our days were extremely emotional and tough. Too tough for a lot of details. It started when one or both of the boys would leave our hotel room after playing with her or giving her any attention, she would cry and just like Gotcha Day, that short cry turned to anger in seconds. Then what we’ve come to call a “grieving tantrum” ensued. Grieving tantrums are like regular tantrums in that there is a lot of crying and screaming. What starts the tantrum though, is what sets it apart from a good old fashioned toddler tantrum. We had those too, which usually arose from not getting her way, like most toddlers. The grieving tantrum though had its origins in loss. When the boys left she felt the “loss” of them. If I left the room, she felt the “loss” of me. She has experienced more loss in two years than most humans experience in a lifetime. She lost her original parents. She lost her sense of safety and security. She lost her sense of self. She lost her joy, her dignity, her uniqueness and her individuaity. She loss caregiver after caregiver, each time she moved from one class at the orphanage to another. When orphanage-mates were adopted, she lost “family”, the only family she consciously remembers. The orphan’s life is marked by loss from the beginning and subsequent loss throughout their life. She also seemed to be struggling with the fact that she could do nothing about the loss. She had no control over what was happening to her. She couldn’t change a thing. The boys’ exits seemed to bring this to her heart and mind like a tidal wave crashing into shore. Over the weeks in China and the months to come, it would erode our strength and test our endurance.

Her grieving tantrums would last for at least 30 minutes or more. In the beginning I tried to do something, like any mother does. Nothing helped and I mean nothing. I just had to let her have it out and pray. I believe it is the most helpless John and I have felt as parents in a very long time. The first ones which started around Day 9, really felt like a punch in the gut. I remember feeling so many things inside.

First, my heart was torn into pieces for her. Watching a toddler writhe in emotional pain to that degree will change you as a person. I just kept thinking, “Oh Lord….my daughter, MY daughter has this much pain inside her. And she’s only 2! Father, Father, help her, help us. Lord, it is not suppose to be this way. You did not create her for this.” I also had a deep awakening, as I have several times in my life, to the depths of evil. I truly believe we paint Satan in too pretty of a light. What most of us see as evil in the world, is only scratching the surface of his world. I came to see this on my first trip to China, walking in red light districts, talking to 13 year old girls stolen and trafficked for their virginity because Chinese businessmen think having sex with a virgin will bless their business. What kind of evil would set about a plan to destroy a child? What kind of evil would put into the minds of men to limit a male-preferenced society to one child? What kind of evil would propagate the idea that having a girl is like “watering your neighbor’s garden”? What kind of evil makes gendercide an option for birth control? The same kind of evil that causes humanity to fall, become broken and in need of things like, orphanages, hospitals, prisons, rehab centers and population control police.

I remember thinking, “Lord, how did we get here? How did this world come to this?” I knew the answer to this, but more than that, I grieved it. Sin did this to us. As I watched her grieve and rage, I realized that sin opened the door to such atrocities as this. Sin was merely the doorway, and still is, to the greatest evils of this world. And its something I defend in myself, ignore in myself and overlook more often than I should. But I was reminded by Him that Jesus came to save me, to save us, to save Hope from all of this. We weren’t left in this grieving, raging estate. He took all the gendercides, all the trafficked women, all the sin of a red-light district, all the cries of the orphan upon Himself and He gladly bore it for me, for the world, for Hope. Because of that sacrifice, she had hope. Because of that sacrifice, we had Hope. I felt so thankful to know that now she would know Him, now she would know the Truth to set her free, to bind up her broken heart, to release her from the darkness, to give her a garment of praise, to rebuild the ruins of her life. Praise be to God for His marvelous love!

Just as God was there during that first night as I lay awake beside her, he was there as John and I had our eyes filled with tears, watching her helplessly. This is what I heard Him whisper into my heart, “She is grieving what she’s known. She can’t yet see that her life has changed forever and that she has been saved. She misses her old life and the familiar things and she’s grieving that, even though it wasn’t what was best for her. You were like that too you know. When I saved you from your sin, you didn’t really realize that your life had changed forever. After the newness began to wear off, and you realized this was your new reality, your sin nature began to grieve for your former life and its familiar habits, attitudes and deeds. You kicked, you screamed, you cried and you fought me for 10 years. Then I came to you at your lowest point, lifted you up and you realized the new life I could give you. It’s really the same thing. Be patient. She’ll come around.”

After a day of grieving, we decided to take a walk to the park nearby. It was nice to be in nature, though it was pretty grey and dull compared to the parks we are accustom to here in the States, but just getting out of the hotel was a blessing and it was good for Hope. When the grieving started, she really struggled staying in the room unless we were dressing, undressing, eating or sleeping.

Around this day, maybe the day before too, Hope began to be my little parrot and she still is today. I am convinced that this is why she speaks such impeccable English in just one year of being home. Whatever I said, she repeated and she pointed to EVERYTHING wanting to know the name for it. The world was alive to her like never before. She started with the word, “good-bye” or “bye-bye”. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the emotional toll, but when she started saying, “Byyyye”, with a touch of a Southern accent, I seriously thought, “Can you believe that? Her English sounds like a Southerner.” I know. I did not make my home state of Mississippi proud on that one. Quite the blonde moment for this brunette. She also said, “flower’, which sounded like “flowah”. Everywhere we went, she wanted to see flowers and I taught her immediately to smell them. She’d say, “flowah” all day long because there were lots of flowers in the hotels. But the one that blew me and travel mommy Becky away, was when we were standing in the hallway and a hotel maid walked by  and Hope pointed to the vacuum cleaner she was pulling and I said, “Well, that’s a hard one, honey.” She pointed again very insistent that I tell her what it was. I said, “Okay, vacuum cleaner.”, and then kind of chuckled at Becky like, “She’ll never get that one.” And Hope said, clear as a bell, “Bacoom Cleanah.” Becky and I looked at each other, eyes wide, mouths agape and burst out laughing. I’ve never held anything back from that little bug since.

Six months ago, I couldn’t remember much of our daily-ness in China. It made me sad and a little fearful. What if I couldn’t remember and was unable to repeat Hope’s story to her in years to come? How could I have so few vivid memories of such a long awaited, HIGHLY anticipated event in my life? I was frustrated and it worried me. Finally I told the Lord, “I can’t worry about this anymore. I am just going to trust that when the time comes for me to have the time to record the events of our journey, that You, Lord, will supply the memories.” And He has. These posts have been so very long and I admire anyone who has the patience to read it all. Thank you. Believe it or not, I haven’t recorded it all. That would make the posts too long for the average blog reader, so I’ll save the minute details for Hope’s memory someday.

Even though my memory was challenged up until now, Day 8 of the journey has always stood out in my mind. I remember it with such endearment and fondness. It was a day of pure bliss. The day itself was just pure, untainted contentment and joy. It wasn’t a fancy day full of paperwork (yay!) or exotic places to see, at least not for our family. For our travel group, it was a sightseeing day, but we had decided ahead of time, even before we came to China, that we wouldn’t go on this particular trip. We knew it would be a very long day and really didn’t want to exhaust ourselves and Hope. We also weren’t interested in the location. It was certainly fascinating, but my previous trip to China had taught me much about areas of spiritual strongholds and after prayer and consulting with my friends still in China we opted out of the trip. It was just our conviction personally. I truly believe that God used that conviction on some level to keep us at the hotel so we could experience a remarkable time of bonding with Hope as a family.

Because we didn’t go on the tour, we got to sleep in a bit and take our time getting to breakfast. I had tons of food and drink in the room for Hope, so I could start her daily graze before we had to go and eat ourselves. Besides, she’d eat again then as well. After breakfast, our day was as simple as this: we went back to the room and played. We gathered around her, got out what toys and books we had and talked to her and played. I brought some balloons on the trip and we blew them up and tossed them around, played “ball” with them, did silly tricks, you name it. For Hope, I think this was equivalent to being at the circus. Four circus clowns entertained for an entire day. She smiled, she giggled and she laughed and laughed. A large portion of the day was just Hope and the boys on the floor playing in tandem. This was the day their sibling relationship was formed and it has grown stronger and stronger every day for the past year. She adores her brothers and their love for her borders on worship at times. It did then, it does now. I could not be happier for her. One of the key reasons we wanted to take the boys was because the truth of it is, one day John and I will be with Jesus and Austin and Justin will be her family. When I’m 70, Hope will be in her mid-thirties. Yes, it pains me to think of her going through the crux of raising her kids and me being very old or possibly not here. But God knows what He is doing. At that time in her life though, her brothers will be her family in a special way. They’ll be the ones giving her advice and celebrating life with her as she grows older into her mid-life and beyond, not John and I. We wanted them to be present for her “delivery” and take ownership in her life. We wanted them to see her origins, experience her country and culture of birth, to be able to be another oral account of how she came to be a Brady.  And to feel like she didn’t just belong to Mom and Dad, but that she belonged to them.

I took time to Skype on the phone with my parents for the first time and try to fill them in on everything that had happened in the past 8 days. After that call, they went out and got a computer with a camera. They couldn’t stand not seeing her face. Skype was God’s idea. I’m sure of it. During this time the boys went back to their rooms and did schoolwork and went to grab some lunch. I fed Hope her staple of noodles and bananas and such and she and I went down for a nap. This is when John went and did something with the boys.

That evening, we realized the travel group still hadn’t returned and it was dark and getting on into the evening. We had gone to a restaurant next to the hotel and Hope and I shared a pretty awesome dish of rice with meat that was claimed to be beef…not sure, but we’ll go with that. About that time a family from our group came in. They looked exhausted and come to find out the day, though interesting, ended up being a day from Hades. The trip was long, the AC didn’t really work or wasn’t running on the bus, the kids were exhausted, having lots of poopy diapers, crying, screaming and the parents were all just at their wits end. Becky and Reid had also stayed behind and was spared, like us, the insanity of the trip back. I really hated to answer the question, “So…how was your day?”, because it was totally and completely amazing, a stark contrast from the rest of the group. I felt so bad for our sweet families. They just went to see the culture and came back utterly drained. After hearing the stories, I was so thankful we’d followed our heart on that one and stayed behind. God blessed our day tremendously. We needed the break. Little did we know, it would be a much needed calm before the storm.

Her biggest fans.

Can you say center of attention?

Reading with Baba.

Skyping with Momma. Look how much she's grown!

Lunch! Noodles..her favorite then and now.

Playing games with her food to create interaction and connection and fun!

I had to resist the urge all night not to wake her. The night before on our first night together, she went to bed like a good little girl raised in an orphanage. Put her in the crib, turn out the lights, that’s it. It was this way for the first several days, she didn’t know any better yet. By the time we left China she was like any other 2 yr. old and bedtime….a ball of energy! I couldn’t help but wonder what must be going through her mind. She’s with strange people. They look funny, smell funny and eat weird stuff. They stare at her all the time, they smile all the time and they speak some funny language! They put her down for the night and sleep in a bed next to her. I’m amazed at how survival skills keep these children going in what must have been a confusing day for her. I mean, just think about it for a minute. What would you do if you were given to strange people, taken from all you knew, forced to sleep with them, have them bathe you, all with no guarantee you’d ever see “home” again? These kids and God’s grace poured out on them during this time is a marvel and a wonder.

As she lay in her crib next to me, all the Mommy-stuff came back. I listened for her breathing. If I didn’t hear it, I got up and checked her chest…was it going up and down? I wondered if she got enough in her tummy before bed. And I let the events of the day roll around in my head. Then it hit me. A simple thought. Or rather, a simple sentence spoken to me by a well-meaning friend just days before we left for China. She said to me, “Wow. A baby. And you almost had your freedom.” What she is referring to is the fact that we have two teenage boys. They stayed home by themselves while we went on dates. They rode their bikes all over tarnation and I didn’t worry…too much. They fixed their own food, could do laundry and take care of their schoolwork. In just three years, our first would be leaving the nest. Now, it would be another 15 years before the final precious baby bird flew away. As I thought about how my life had changed quickly and utterly in less than 12 hours, I meditated on her words. I had no regret. And then a still, small voice came to my heart and said, “Yes, you almost had your freedom. But I asked you to sacrifice your freedom for hers, just like my Son sacrificed His for you.” Whoa. I cannot express what I felt in my heart and literally in my being at that moment, for I knew God was there. Watching over Hope. Watching over me. I had never felt more honored to fellowship in His suffering than at that very moment. It was the beginning of the largest sacrifice I have ever had to make as a woman. A sacrifice that has taken every ounce of strength and energy and perseverance I am humanly capable of. But that one Word from the Lord, has stuck with me for this past year and been my peace that passes all understanding.

I awoke the next day almost as early as Gotcha Day. I decided to finally get up around 5am and get dressed, and I am not a natural morning person. I knew that she wouldn’t leave my side  once she woke, so I got ready as fast as I could. Then I sat. And sat. And sat. I checked her 100 times. I guess I began to be a little loud in my puttering around the room because John said, “Are you trying to wake her up so you can hold her?” I grinned. “Of ‘course I am!”, I admitted.

Finally she awoke and she didn’t move a muscle. I was standing over her and myself and her Daddy were the first thing her eyes saw. She had wet the bed during the night. Darned diapers. Still, she didn’t move. I picked her up and held her and gave her a warm bottle and a bath. I got her dressed and she was playing on the floor for a while, as we all got ready for another long day of government offices and paperwork. (Oh yeah, I’m not joking. Paperwork is my life.)I decided to step into the bathroom for a minute and while in there I heard this sound my ears were not use to, crying. I ran out and asked John, “What’s wrong? What happened?”. He said, “You walked away. As soon as you turned the corner, she fell apart.” I have never felt so good in my whole life. She knew I was the point-man in this operation, the one out of all of us, appointed to care for her. We’d made a connection. Small, but connection nonetheless. Thank you Father.

In no time there was a knock at the door. There were two very eager big brothers who were anxious to see their little sister. Man, I love those boys. After a breakfast that seemed to have no end, we began to get ready for our trip outside. Children who are adopted internationally, at least from China, tend to eat without end when you first adopt them. It’s a survival skill. They aren’t sure if you’ll always be there and if there will always be food, so they kind of stock up. They eat and eat. It’s also a way to cope with the astounding life change they are experiencing yet again in their very young lives. It would take Hope almost a full week before she refused one bite of food given to her. She ate for 7 days straight, then the next day after she ate quite a bit, she turned her head away signaling she was full. My heart leapt. She finally KNEW we would feed her. She knew we would care for her. She was beginning to trust us. On a very base level, but trust is the name of the game in adoption progress.

She was dressed so adorably. She knew it too. We went back to the government office where we received her on Gotcha Day. I was a little concerned this may unnerve her, but she handled it beautifully. We reviewed the previous days paperwork and took turns signing more papers. We also received our official adoption document. The government worker there spoke broken English and said to us as a group, “On behalf of the people of China we thank you for taking these children into your home. You have to have big heart to adopt child from another country. And you have especially big heart to adopt our children with special needs. Thank you.” Wow. Tears stung my eyes.

Hope loved the bus rides. She’d never seen so much of life and society before. Our bus windows were huge, so people could look in and see the American parents with the Chinese children. Most all of them smiled and waved. When we got to the notary office, we realized it was going to be a tough haul. Six flights up, no elevator, no air conditioner, southern China, summertime, ugh. We eventually made it there, me carrying an extra 20 or so pounds up every flight because she would let no one else hold her and I didn’t want it any other way. I needed to drop some pounds anyway.

When we got to the office to fill out more paperwork, she sat in my lap. I had a lanyard with our names on it, her name on it and a declaration written in Chinese that said basically that I was here to adopt this child, she was mine, we were staying at said hotel and our translators cell phone number, just in case someone stopped us. I had Hope sit facing me and we played. I tried to make lots of eye contact with her. She was so silly. She took my lanyard tag and put it in her mouth. I pretended to take it out and she thought that was great fun. Then I put one end in my mouth and the other in hers and pulled it out of her mouth and she cackled. Then she’d do the same to me and I’d make some goofy expression of some sort. We were causing a commotion and tried to settle her down, but oh- the- heck- well, I’m bonding with my child here! It ended up being one of our biggest moments of the past 24 hours.

I really can’t remember what else we did after that visit to the notary. I do know that some of the children did not have to do paperwork at this notary and had to do it in the city their child came from, so they would go another day or later in the day. These families stayed on the bus and a few of them had brought siblings along for the trip. Our boys stayed on the bus for at least an hour or longer entertaining the kids, while we were upstairs in the notary office with the other parents and kids. The boys played endless games of  “I spy” and a host of other things. I was so deeply moved by their servant’s heart toward these children and their parents. It gave the mommas and the poppas a little break from balancing two children for the first time in their new lives and families. One of the boys adopted was a 10 year old named Greg. I love this kid. Can you imagine being adopted at 10 years old? You are totally aware of all that is about to take place and yet you do it anyway. He totally inspired me and he totally inspired my boys.  Watching Greg be adopted and become a member of his family moved my boys’ hearts like nothing ever has before. To see his reactions to things they took for granted like, nice hotels, big pools, endless food buffets, etc. caused Austin and Justin to really appreciate their lives a whole lot more. Greg was their hero and they became the three amigos. Even though Greg didn’t speak much English and Austin and Justin spoke NO Chinese except for Hello and thank you, these boys could play pool, swim and hang out together and still had a great time. Again, I just fell in love with my two boys all over again. I could not imagine this journey, this trip of great adventure without them.

More interaction. Hope was playing while waiting for our turn to do paperwork in the adoption office. First time we saw her just play, like a toddler does. Great feeling.

The gov't offical is in the pink top, black skirt, telling us we had especially good hearts.

Checking out the paperwork to make sure its right.

Our first official family photo. It's official, she's ours!

The awesome Holle family: Kevin, Greg and Sheryl.

A beautiful moment.

Smiles, so simple and yet such a HUGE moment for our formerly, sad little girl.

More paperwork in the Notary office.