Head-Spinning Summer

This summer was supposed to be relaxing. Abby would be home from school and we’d have some free time. We had a lot packed into the summer, but it was summer and it was going to be nice and slow.

Instead the past month has been pretty head-spinning. Our slow, leisurely adoption plan that likely wouldn’t have seen a child join our family until next summer went into overdrive with a single phone call we received about 30 days ago. Since then that relaxing summer plan has gone completely out the window. The best-laid plans, huh?

Let’s recap the last 30 days:

  • We skipped an all-church camp weekend in Northern Wisconsin due to sickness (failed plans is going to be a recurring theme).
  • Lexi started weekly swim lessons.
  • I pitched my book to the Social Media Breakfast crowd and raised some extra money for charity: water (proving once again how much I hate and am terrible at public speaking).
  • We celebrated a birthday and Father’s Day.
  • Abby had an entire week of day-long conferences.
  • We had a major article appear in the local paper hyping my book (still getting comments about that one—so cool).
  • I spent the night and a separate evening at church.
  • I skipped out on the week-long youth group missions trip to Chicago I was supposed to chaperone because things were too crazy.
  • A brand new niece came into the world (and I’ve lost count of how many people are pregnant right now).
  • We moved Milo from his crib into a real bed.
  • We switched Lexi and Milo into a new bedroom.
  • We installed a new cabinet in the bathroom and somehow acquired three large pieces of furniture.
  • Both sets of grandparents visited on the same weekend.
  • We averaged 4-5 meetings, playdates or non-standard commitments every week. In a normal week we maybe average one.
  • We’ve had a total of 12 meetings or scheduled conference calls regarding the adoption. When I added them all up I was actually surprised it wasn’t more.
  • Tomorrow we attend the massive Summer Mehaber, a picnic for Ethiopian families, and my book will have its own booth (thankfully I hired a couple guys to run the booth for me).
  • The only reason I have time to write this post is because Lexi is sick and we’re staying home from today’s massive zoo trip with Ethiopian families in town for the picnic.

And at this point we still don’t have a timeline for when our adoption will happen, though it’s possible it will start as soon as late next week. How’s that for massive change? Not knowing when you’re welcoming an 11-year-old into your family.

So yes, head-spinning limbo. I’ve been too busy for Twitter. Too busy for blogging (though I’m shocked I blogged as much as I did in June). Too busy for thinking.

In the weeks before we traveled to Ethiopia to meet Milo, I remember being in this kind of constant frenzy. We’d lie awake at night throwing out random things we needed to remember or do or prepare and eventually would just fall asleep in a blur of mumbled prayers. This time around that’s too much to ask. I lose the the threads of thought about what thing we need to do or person we need to call before I can even get them out. For a few days last week I started carrying around a notepad so I could literally write down these things before I forgot them (though I don’t think it helped much).

Life is hard right now. But it’s also fun and incredible and amazing. Milo has probably doubled his language in the past month. He’s become addicted to cars and is constantly puttering one of my old NASCAR collectibles across the floor. I took Lexi to her first movie theater experience (Toy Story 3) and she’s constantly surprising me with her compassion and concern (at least when she’s not fighting with Milo). Yesterday she told me I should shave my head for clean water—if only it were that simple.

As hard as things are, I can’t help but feeling incredibly blessed. Difficult times like this magnify our faults, and mine are pretty plain to see. Grace and forgiveness and mercy are so desperately needed. We couldn’t do it without friends and family supporting us, giving us a little extra sanity.

I imagine everyone’s last 30 days would look insane if you spelled it out like this, so I imagine we’re not alone. But it puts it in perspective a bit.

That’s enough perspective. Back to work.

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