The letter in my Bible.

There's this letter in my Bible. Tucked away somewhere in the book of Proverbs, written in my sloppy handwriting, a combo of cursive and print. I remember the day I wrote it. So full of hope and longing for her, my daughter. I'd seen her face, but we hadn't met yet. I knew we would meet though. That feeling of belonging, of motherhood, of hardcore deep-rooted, unexplainable love, I've had that feeling since the first time I looked at her. Even from the very first time I saw her face in a random email on a random day in September, she has looked like MINE.

"My dearest Emily, 

You are desired, baby girl. 

I want to hold your little hands and kiss your little cheeks. 

I want to watch you sleep and lay with you when you're sick and hold you when you cry. 

I want to smile with you and laugh with you and watch you live a world full of firsts........"

I'd almost forgotten about the letter, the one I wrote to her at an adoption retreat when I was supposed to be listening to the speaker, but instead was day-dreaming about all the days to come with my daughter. I knew when I wrote it that no matter how honest I was and how hard I tried to express to her how much I adore her and love her and longed for her, there would never be enough words to express to her the depth of my feelings. Words like that simply don't exist. And then yesterday, it all but bit me like a snake in the grass when I was sitting in church and happen to come across it. I have the letter, but I will never have her.

"....I want to walk through hard places with you and remind you that you were never forgotten. 

You were never alone or forsaken. 

God was there, baby girl. 

He was holding you when I could not. 

He was comforting my heart while I waited for you......"

I miss her. Terribly. Awfully. Fully. I miss her every single day. My girls miss her. My husband misses her. She's everywhere, engrained in every aspect of our lives and our home and our hearts. She's there because she belongs there. After all, she's our girl.

"....Emily, you are so much more than what has happened to you and what you have endured. 

'Orphan' is not your identity. 

It's not who you are. It's not your defining characteristic. 

It's simply a part of God's plan; one chapter in your story. 

And right now, we are in a hard part. 

We are loving you, we are waiting for you, 

and our family won't be complete until you're home with us. ..."

And yet, she never coming home. It's so hard, the unknown. I find myself worrying about her. There's a measles outbreak in Congo right now. Did you know that? I did. And I find myself worrying about her. I want to protect her from all the things, including the measles. But I can't. I can't today. I can't tomorrow. I can't ever. And that's hard. There will be no updates, no news to come. Nothing. Just silence and the unknown. And that's hard too.

"...You are not forgotten. 

He is there with you in Congo. 

His hand is at the center of our journey to you. 

 And as heartbreaking as adoption is and can be, He has a plan, and His plans are always perfect, 

even when we don't understand them. "

She's my daughter, and yet she's not my daughter. That's such a hard thing for my mind and my heart to understand. I love her so deeply, and loving her feels so right. And yet, she's not coming home. I need to move on. I need to let go. I will never stop loving her. In fact, I'm pretty sure I couldn't stop loving her if I tried. But I can't stay here, in this place where there's still an open door. This place is too hard. It hurts too much to long for this child who will never be mine. I need to let it go and move past those dreams. I need to focus on the new things God is doing in our lives and the plans He still has for us. But it's hard.....like really, really, really hard. How do I just turn my heart off like this? One days she's mine and the next she's not, and my heart just doesn't know what to make of that.

"....Waiting for you is hard. 

It's hard to know that there are people who know you more than I do. 

And as jealous as I can be,  more than jealous I am thankful. 

I'm thankful for your middle mamas, the people God is sending to take care of you until I can..."

I stand by what I said before ---- we prayed for this little girl to have a family, and she does.
THAT is worth celebrating! Just because God didn't answer that prayer in the way I wanted Him to doesn't mean that He's not good. I don't doubt for even one second that His way will ALWAYS, WITHOUT QUESTION be better than mine. And I don't struggle with why her family came back for her after almost two years. I can't blame them in any way for loving her and wanting her. That is actually the part of all of this that makes the most sense to me; it's so easy to love her, after all.

"...I've been dreaming of you and longing for you and desiring you since before you were born. 

You, my precious girl, are so so loved...."

There is one part though that I struggle with-- if she was never meant to come home to us, why did God allow us to have such an immediate, undeniable connection? I don't understand that yesterday or today and can say with confidence that when I'm old and grey I still won't understand that. However, while I may not know why I don't understand or why God allowed things to happen the way they did, I also know that I don't have to understand. Even though it's the most confusing thing I've ever had to deal with and even though it makes no sense to me whatsoever, God knows. And that's enough. It has to be. He knows His plans for our precious Emily, and that gives me more peace and comfort than anything on this Earth ever could.

I don't wish I hadn't had this time with her. I don't regret even one minute of the eighteen months I spent with her as my daughter. I don't wish I'd never gone to Congo. I don't wish that things were different...even now...even without her. How could I? I would never wish for someone to miss and long for the girl they love. I would never choose for someone to feel the way I feel now. Loving her WAS and IS a gift. And even though the gift wasn't what I expected and even though the gift didn't last anywhere near as long as I prayed it would, I will never ever stop being thankful for the gift that was our Emily.

"...I love you and won't stop counting the days until you are home--- no matter how long it takes and how hard it is and how hopeless things may seem at times. Being your mom is already such an honor, a gift, and a priviledge. We are so very blessed by you, our sweet Emily....."

Twenty months, some thoughts, and getting back to the beginning.

We are now officially twenty months into this adoption process, 

although it feels like so much longer 

since we spent close to two years reading and researching and praying before we officially started. 

As I look back on this time spent waiting, it's easy to see the peeks and valleys. 

There have definitely been some valleys on this journey.

 Last Fall (Fall of 2014) can basically be summed up by saying 'adoption is hard'.

 My heart was so broken for my girl, her mother, and the miles that separated us. 

I selfishly wanted her home, but more than that, I wanted this little girl to have a family. 

And now, twenty months later, we're still waiting, but I have a newly restored hope. 

God has used this process to teach me and mold me and move in my heart more than I ever imagined, and no part of me doubts that HE WILL BRING EMILY HOME TO US. 

We still have absolutely no idea when that may happen and still have some very important steps in the process that we are yet to complete, but I may or may not have just washed everything from my trip and repacked it in my suitcase. 

I am literally packed and ready to go get my girl.

 A little premature? Probably. 

Preparing for rain? Definitely. 

I don't want to wait even one minute longer than I have to to bring her home.

And once again, for I pray is the last time, I need your help. 

We are estimating that we still need about $10,000 to bring her home. 

I say estimating because the longer it takes, the more it will cost. 

Home studies, fingerprints, and government forms expire and are renewed with a fee. 

We also are paying monthly foster care fees for our sweet girl. 

And then we'll have to travel. 

So, we are going back to the beginning. 

Our first (and most successful) fundraiser was selling t-shirts. 

You may remember them. 

You may have one. 

But, I'm crossing my fingers that you may need another. 

So, I give you these little beauties: 

www.aldridgeadoption.bigcartel.com

Your grace abounds in deepest waters. 

This promise is so dear to my heart. 

I cling to it. 

And I find so much hope in it. 

These shirts were designed by sweet, talented, beautiful friend Monique. 

You can find more of her work here.

You may be familiar with this song, but in case you're not, my precious, crazy-talented, oh so silly, former student turned grown-up friend, Meredith,  recorded her own version for me to share with you: 

SDV 0344 from McCall Aldridge on Vimeo.

Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. 

But God is not intimidated by those zeroes. 

And we shouldn't be either. 

My happy thought these days consists of a group of smiling faces waiting for us at the airport, wearing these shirts, welcoming Emily home. 

That will no doubt be my happiest of happy days. 

Next Thursday, February 5th, my little girl will turn three.
And although I'm sure to spend that day crying and stuffing my face with all the M&M's,
we will still be celebrating our girl and another year of her life.
And I'm hoping you'd like to join me in celebrating.
So, in honor of Emily, I'd like to sell THREE HUNDRED SHIRTS by her birthday. 
That's 300 shirts in seven days.
That's over forty shirts a day.
And about two shirts per hour.
It's a big goal, I know.
But God has taught me to not fear big goals.
It won't be all that we need to meet our long term goal,
but it will certainly be a big step closer.

So, who's ready to help bring our girl home?
You can purchase your shirts HERE. 

Have questions about sizing or colors or anything else? 

Ask them in the comments and check back soon for a response.

And please feel free to share, share, share about them on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, your blog, or anywhere else.  

Thank you from the very bottom of my heart for helping to bring our girl home to us. 

Nothing makes me feel more loved than when people love my children and follow God's call to take care of our neighbors, even when our neighbors live half way around the world. 

Adoption takes a village, 

and I am so glad you are a part of mine.

That's my daughter.

God is so good. 

That's really all I know to say. 

He has knit our family together so perfectly, and this girl is the icing on our cake. 

To sum up my time with her-- 

God used each and every minute to confirm over and over and over again that she was made for us. 

It's painstakingly obvious that she belongs with us. 

Every little detail-- they just fit. 

 Our bond was instant, as if it had always been there. 

I guess you could say that's because it has. 

God knew long before I did that she was ours. 

And I will never, ever stop thanking him for the gift that is our Emily. 

I am so in love with this little girl. 

And while my head is still spinning, jet lag is still kicking (hello, 4am wake-ups), and my heart is still racing, one thing is for certain: 

I CANNOT WAIT for her to come home. 

Every day I spend longing for her is one more day that she doesn't have a family. 

And even one more day with no family is too many. 

Will you please join me in praying that she comes home soon? 

Pray that God will move mountains and bring her home sooner rather than later. 

As of tomorrow, we officially began our adoption process twenty months ago. 

But my heart has been longing for her for so much longer than that. 

Tomorrow, you're only a day away.

After waiting and stressing about paperwork arriving in time, 

I am officially headed to Congo tomorrow to meet my daughter. 

It seems like a dream. 

I've waited so long to see her and hold her and love her in person. 

I keep seeing us meet in my mind over and over again like a movie. 

Will she like me? 

Will she be scared? 

Will she let me hold her? 

We shall see. 

I can't imagine what she's been through in her short little life. 

So much heartache and loss and hurt, I'm sure. 

My biggest prayer request for this trip? 

I don't want to bring her even one minute of hurt, heartache, loss, or fear. 

I want our time together to somehow take the place of all the days she's lived without a mother, without a family, without security, without the comfort of a family. 

I know that it can't. 

There's no way a week together can make up for all the time she's spent without all of that. 

But God is good, and thankfully He is in control......always. 

Here are some thoughts/ questions people have asked/ things you might be wondering:

*I'm almost all packed and ready. All I can say is, I feel like I deserve some sort of prize for all the things I've managed to fit into my bags. I'm bringing close to 100 pounds of donations for Emily's orphanage--- formula, cloth diapers, medicines, etc. I've also somehow managed to pack all of what I'll need and all of what Emily will need in my carry-on. I'm also bringing all of our food (minus water). I see lots of ramen noodles, beef jerky, rice, and peanut butter crackers in my future. Please pray that all of my bags (two checked bags, one carry-on suitcase, and one personal item) make it safely to Congo. I don't want to be distracted by anything during my time with my daughter. 

*Will I have Wifi? Not sure. Maybe. We shall see. I'm praying that I do so I can send pictures and videos home to Lee and the girls and so they can send videos to us. HOWEVER, whether I have Wifi or not, I will NOT be posting pictures of Emily's face. While I'm dying to show you just how adorable she is, I'm not legally allowed to do that until she's home. But don't worry-- I'll do what I can and promise to post pics as often as I can. 

*Am I nervous? Probably not in the way you might think. Africa, traveling to Africa, and being in Africa-- these are a few of my favorite things. I feel so comfortable there, and there is literally nowhere else I'd rather be. And traveling? Yes, please. I love flying. I love airports. Even though this is my first time traveling solo, I'm not nervous.  I'll be fine and have no worries about that. I'd say my nerves all come from worrying about her--- I just really want this time together to be a time of peace and comfort and joy for her. I want to be able to meet her needs and for her to begin to view me as her mom. I want her to trust me and for communication to just naturally happen. 

*How old is she? Does she speak English? She's about 2.5-3.5 years old. However, I've been told she's tiny, so we shall see. Hopefully I'll have a better idea about this once we've spent some time together. And English? That would be a no. The national language in Congo is French, but she speaks a tribal language called Lingala. I do have a cheat sheet ready with some key words and phrases, but we shall see how well that goes. Lingala is hard, y'all. 

*How am I gonna leave her? I don't know. All I know to say about this is Jesus. Just Jesus. I have never been more sure about anything in my life than I am that Emily is my daughter. God's got this. He is in control. Does that mean leaving won't be hard? Oh my gosh, of course it will be awful. How am I supposed to say good-bye to my toddler daughter I've just met and leave with no return date in sight? I have no idea. But Jesus is good. And He will take care of me. 

*When is she coming home? I also have no idea about this. We are still waiting to pass court (this is month ten). Once we pass court, she will legally be our daughter, and we'll start making steps towards her coming home. However, Congo still is not issuing exit letters (the final piece you need to travel with your child). Again, God is in control. Does it stink that she can't come home today? Absolutely. Every child deserves a family, and no child should have to continue living without a family when she has one waiting for her. However, let me say it again-- GOD IS GOOD. We saw her face for the first time the day before they announced they were putting exit letters on hold. I fully believe that that was God's timing. He will provide. He will take care of her. We're living in His timing, not our timing. 

That's all for now. 

Finishing up the last few things I need to take care of before I say good-bye to my family and head to a dear friend's house later today. 

She will drop me off at the airport in the morning, and I'll be off from there. 

Prayers are greatly appreciated. 

I'll be meeting my daughter on Friday. 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

There are no words for that.

We all know that an average pregnancy lasts for nine months. 

We also know that in a total of eighteen months, 

a woman can carry and give birth to two full-term babies. 

Well, today is the eighteen month anniversary of the day we began our adoption process. 

That means that I could have given birth to not one but two babies by today. 

And yet our daughter is nowhere near close to being home. 

When I wake up tomorrow,

 I will officially have been waiting longer for Emily to come home

 than I did for both Hollyn and Libby combined. 

Oh, how I long for her. 

It's funny the words we say

 and how we never ever think about how they will affect the people around us. 

I remember countless times when I was pregnant that I verbally wished for my pregnancies to end, for my daughter to just be here already, because nine whole months of waiting was such a long time. 

And it did feel like a long time, especially with Hollyn, 

whose pregnancy was discovered within days. 

I've heard several women say these words in the past few weeks, 

completely unaware of the wait I am currently facing. 

Don't get me wrong-- those women have every reason to be ready for life outside of the womb to begin with their children. 

They long to see their little faces and snuggle them and watch them sleep and begin to uncover their little personalities. 

I so get that. 

Their words were not meant to hurt; they were meant to imply that they are excited. 

Their are words out there that so clearly express what they are feeling-- 

anxious, anticipation, nervous, joyful-- just to name a few. 

But eighteen months of waiting for my daughter?

There are no words for that. 

And the worst part? 

There are so many mamas out there who have been waiting so much longer than I have. 

Adoption is hard. 

Waiting is hard. 

Watching my daughter grow up in pictures without a family is hard. 

Would I do it again? 

Absolutely. 

Am I willing to wait as long as I have to to bring our Emily home? 

With bells on. 

Am I good at waiting? 

Nope. 

Is it fun? 

Negative, Ghost Rider. 

Here's to a Friday night spent catching up on good TV, drowning my sorrows in Trader Joe's pumpkin flavored awesomeness, and attempting to stare a hole through the picture of my daughter on my phone. 

And here's to praying there is no 'thirty-six months waiting' in our future. 

They showed that goal who's boss.

They did it. 

Oh, I'm so proud of them. 

My two girls read a grand total of 100 books 

during the month of September 

to help bring their sister home. 

And you know what? 

It really wasn't that hard. 

We are readers. 

We read several books a day during a regular month. 

Libby literally reads at least one book a day

and keeps the school librarian on her toes. 

And Hollyn? 

She's learning to love reading too. 

I'm go glad my girls share my love for books. 

I'm even MORE glad that their share my love for their sister. 

Did you pledge to donate for every book they read? 

Would like to pledge? 

It's not too late. 

You can pledge or simply make a donation-- 

whatever amount will be so greatly appreciated. 

With things taking longer than anticipated, 

we've had several unexpected fees come our way lately. 

And we're already working to raise what we'll need to time to 

travel so that we'll be sitting on go when that moment arrives.

Every penny matters. 

Every dollar counts. 

And each donation brings us one step closer to being fully funded. 

Oh, what a glorious day that will be. 

If you'd like to participate in this fundraiser, 

just head on over to www.gofundme.com/turningpagesforemily . 

Thank you, thank you, thank you. 

Hugs and high fives for everyone!

A whole year.

A year ago today, I saw my daughter's face for the very first time. 

She was about fifteen months old then. 

I remember worrying about the day I'd see her face. 

Maybe worrying isn't quite the right word, 

but there was the tiniest drop of fear in my head 

when I thought about how I'd feel when I first saw her. 

Would I know she was mine? 

Would there be an instant connection? 

Would seeing her face only confirm that we were right where God wants us? 

Yes. 

Yes. 

And yes. 

All of those. 

I saw her little face and looked into her big brown eyes, and I knew. 

I knew every day for three months before we were actually able to legally accept her referral 

that she was mine. 

I didn't need a piece of paper or a ruling from a judge. 

I just knew. 

It's been a long year. 

My family won't be complete until our girl is home. 

There will always be something missing until she's here, in her bed, in her room, with her family. 

I've cried for her. 

I longed for her. 

My arms have physically ached for her. 

And I feel like I've been pregnant....for seventeen and a half months. 

We still have several steps to complete before Emily is home with us. 

And it just breaks my heart-- all the time that she is spending without her family.

I'm sad for me, I'm sad for us, but most of all, I'm sad for her. 

It's not that we are anything special. 

We'd loud....really, really loud. 

We're messy. 

Sometimes we eat corndogs for dinner. 

But we ARE a family, and my girl, she needs one of those. 

I knew adoption would be hard. 

I wasn't blinded by gotcha day videos or unrealistic in terms of our unknown timeline. 

But I never had a clue just what this waiting would do to my heart. 

But God is good. 

He knows when I'm at my breaking point, and He chooses these exact moments to send good news and updates and new pictures of the most precious little chocolate face our way. 

The picture we got last week? 

She's so big. 

She looks so good. 

And she's smiling. 

That's the first smile we've seen. 

She's so beautiful. 

And she looks so much like mine....because she is. 

My prayer today? 

Where do I even begin? 

I pray that God will protect her. 

That she'll know just how much we love her and how we can't wait to have her home with us. 

I pray for her foster parents, the ones filling in for us. 

I pray for days to seem like minutes until we're together. 

And I pray again and again for not another year to pass before she's here. 

It's been a whole year, and my heart has felt every minute of every hour without my Emily. 

Turning Pages for Emily

Children belong in families.
That's what we believe.

And our little girl is in Africa still waiting to come home.

Still waiting for a family.

Still waiting.

It's been almost a year since we first saw her face.
We still have a long way to go until she's home.
But, we aren't wasting any time.

There are changes coming to the Congolese adoption process.
And we want to be ready.

These changes could mean any number of things,
including a possible trip to Africa this Fall
and an unexpected timeline in terms of when Emily will come home.

Being a mom to a waiting child is tough.
I want to do EVERYTHING for her, and yet there are so few things I can do.

And while I can't tuck her in or hold her when she's scared or take care of her when she's sick,
I CAN work to raise the rest of the funds we'll need to bring her home.

Unexpected timelines mean unexpected expenses.
Documents expire.
Forms need updating.
You know the drill.

And we still need to raise the funds we'll need to cover our travel expenses
and a little bit of what we'll owe when we pass court.

But don't worry;
we have a plan.

Turning Pages for Emily from McCall Aldridge on Vimeo.


Will YOU join us in turning pages for Emily in September? 

We LOVE the idea of families working together to give our girl a family.


Want to be a part of Emily's story? 

Send us an email at turningpagesforemily@gmail.com,
 and we'll send you a printable page to record your pledges and the book you read.
Ask your friends, family, and neighbors to sponsor you for each book you read next month.
Choose your books and turn as many pages as you can for Emily!
Our hope is that this will get families reading and talking about adoption.

And at the end of  September,
go to www.gofundme.com/turningpagesforemily
and make your donation.

It's as simple as that.


Reading's not your thing but still want to help? 

NO PROBLEM!
You can choose to sponsor us.
Just pick an amount to donate for every book we read.
We promise to keep you posted on our progress!
You can leave your pledge in the comments on this post or send it to us in an email.
You can also help by sharing this post and our video on your blog, Facebook, and Instagram accounts.



Don't want to wait to make a difference? 

You can go to www.gofundme.com/turningpagesforemily any time between now
 and October 10th and make a donation in any amount you choose.
Every penny will be used to bring our girl to her forever home.
And no amount is too small; every dollar is one dollar closer to our girl!

We're praying God will use this fundraiser in a big way.
The minute we're done fundraising is the minute we're sitting on go to bring our girl home.

Adoption is costly,
but God is bigger than all the dollars, no matter how many zeros there are at the end of the number.
And we completely believe that He'll give us what we need to bring Emily home to her family.

Thank you in advance.
Thank you for loving our girl and us so very well.
Thank you for sacrificing for her.
Thank you for sharing your hard-earned dollars with our family.
Thank you for answering God's call to care for the orphans and those in need,
even when that looks like trips to the library and possible paper cuts.

THANK YOU.

The Life of a Waiting Mom

In a little over a month, it will be a year since we first saw Emily's face. 

A year-- a full year. 

As in 365 days. 

And I've missed her on each and every one of those. 

I've felt that weight that year. 

That's 365 bedtimes we missed. 

That's 365 days with no hugs. 

That's 365 days with no story time. 

That's 365 with no big sisters. 

That's 365 days with no 'I love you"s. 

That's 365 days we can never get back

And it's 365 days that our little girl lived without a family.

You know how when your kid goes to camp or to Grandma's or to spend the night with a friend? 

And when he or she comes home, you're so ready to see each other because your home just wasn't the same without your whole family under the same roof? 

Well, it's like that except with no come home date in sight. 

It's also filled with fears. 

Congo isn't exactly the safest place on Earth. 

And even if it was, I'd still worry. 

Did she eat today? 

Was her water safe? 

Did she get any nutrition in her diet? 

Did she cry? 

Did she feel well? 

Did anyone love her today? 

Was she hugged and kissed? 

Did anyone tell her that she matters-- that she's smart and pretty and funny? 

Did anyone read to her or sing her the ABC's?

Did someone play with her? 

Did she brush her teeth? 

Did she take a bath?

Did she take a nap?
Was anyone there to tuck her in? 

Emily is two and a half, and these are the things she'd do if she had a family. 

Except that she doesn't, at least not in the daily sense of the word. 

We're here, and we love her. 

We're desperately waiting for her to come home. 

And yet she's spent the past year growing up without us,

 not to mention the year and a half she lived before we saw her face.

And her pictures-- she looks so good and so big.

And while that makes me happy because it means she's being fed and looks healthy, it also makes me sad. These pictures serve as a reminder of all the little moments she's spent as an orphan.

To put it mildly, life as a waiting mom isn't fun. 

I may smile and carry on, 

but don't for one second think that I'm not thinking of my daughter, 

the one I haven't met yet but already love like crazy. 

This year has been hard. 

I've learned a lot and cried a lot and been frustrated a lot. 

Waiting is not my gift, especially when it means that every day we wait is one day longer that my daughter spends without a family. 

And while I feel so alone in this phase of life and amid all the waiting, I'm not alone. 

There are so many other waiting moms out there, watching their littles grow up in pictures and praying that someone takes time to care for them until they can come to their forever homes. 

We spend our days hoping the phone will ring and being terrified that it will ring all at the same time. 

Sometimes no news is good news, especially when a phone call could mean sickness or much, much worse. 

I knew it'd be hard, but I had no idea what this would do to my heart. 

The worst part? 

We still have no idea when she'll come home. 

It could easily be another year. 

Waiting game, round two.

Here we come. 

That Daughter We Share

Dear Emily's Mother,

Thank you. Thank you for loving our little girl. Thank you for doing the best you could. I think of you every day, and I am overly aware of the fact that without you there is no her.

 I wish we could be friends. I wish I could hold your hand and comfort you. Although I know very little about your life, I do know that life is hard for everyone in Congo, especially the women. I wish I could know you-- your likes and dislikes, gifts and fears. I'd love to know about your family and about your life as a little girl. I'd love to know about when you were pregnant with Emily-- was she crazy active like Libby or totally mellow like Hollyn or somewhere in between? Were you alone when she was born? I so hope you weren't. I hope someone was with you-- taking care of you and encouraging and comforting you.

I hope she remembers you. I hope she has even one moment with you buried deep in her heart that she can hold onto forever. I hope she remembers how you smell and the sound of your voice. I pray she can see your smile when she closes her little brown eyes. Did she get her dimples from you? She has the most adorable dimples, and her smile stops me dead in my tracks. She is so very beautiful, that daughter we share.

Thank you for being brave. I can't imagine the kind of brave you must be. There have been many nights where I've cried for Emily-- missing her, longing for her, worrying about her. But I want you to know that there have been just as many nights when I have cried for you. I hope you are safe. I hope you are cared for. I hope you aren't alone. Most of all, I hope someone has told you about Jesus. I pray that you know Him and the peace that comes from a relationship with Him.

And more than anything else, I want you to know that I love our daughter, and I can only believe that you love her too. What a blessed little girl to have two mothers who each love her enough to do hard things for her. And oh, do I love her. No matter what happens, I will never, ever stop being grateful for the gift of being Emily's mother. And I will never stop being grateful for you.

Praying for you always,

McCall

I Woke Up Happy

Last night I had the best dream. 

My girl was home. 

We were drying her off after she'd taken a bath, putting on her jammies, and brushing her teeth. 

It was so normal, so real, so typical. 

There is nothing special about a bedtime routine.

Except that when your daughter isn't home, EVERYTHING seems special about a bedtime routine. 

I'm not waiting for something magical or extraordinary or exceptional in some way that defies the normal day in and day out of family life; I'm just waiting for normal family life with my whole family.

I woke up overwhelmed with happiness and with a very heavy heart, all at the same time. 

Today is an important day in the big scheme of our adoption and of our lives together as a family. 

Some people associated with our adoption agency are in her country today, visiting her orphanage. 

They're bringing a baby doll and a dress and, most importantly, a photo album filled with pictures of our family to our girl. 

I have so many roller coaster emotions about this. 

Part of me is so hopeful.

 Seeds will be planted today. 

She will see our family-- HER family--for the first time today. 

She will be hugged today and played with and loved on...... by someone else. 

(insert big dip on the roller coaster here-- you know, the kind that makes your stomach drop down past your knees)

Someone else will hug her today. 

Someone else will play with her today. 

Someone else will love on her today. 

And while I'm so very grateful for these middle mamas who are there to love on her when I can't,

 I'm also so very jealous. 

It's selfish.

 I know it is. 

But what mama wouldn't be jealous in these circumstances? 

I so badly want to kiss her little cheeks and hold her little hands and see her smile- a REAL smile, not the little smirk we've seen in pictures but a full-on belly laugh kinda smile. 

There are tears today. 

Lots of tears. 

And unfortunately I'm totally out of M&M's (how did THAT happen?). 

And there's more bittersweetness to come. 

Next week, or maybe even this weekend, I'll get some new pictures of her. 

We haven't gotten any new pics since October. 

She's had a birthday since then. 

And while I know it's so very good that she has grown, it will be bittersweet to see how much she has grown and changed, all without a family there to cheer her on and celebrate each and every milestone. 

Adoption is hard, friends. 

Following God's call is hard. 

My heart literally hurts today. 

And I can't stop crying. 

And can I just say that pregnancy hormones can't even begin to touch adoption hormones? 

Seriously. 

It needs to be said. 

But God is good. 

His word is good. 

And I wouldn't change a thing if I could....except I certainly wouldn't have allowed myself to eat all of the M&M's. 

And I'm Crying Again

Just this morning, I had a friend tell me that I was strong for adopting from Congo. 

I laughed and told her that all the tears I've cried and all the bags of M&M's I've eaten would beg to differ. 

I don't feel strong. 

I feel like I'm 100% dependent on Jesus to bring our daughter home. 

We are depending on Him to prepare our hearts and her heart, to place our paperwork in the right hands at the right times, to bring favor on her case with the right judge, and to provide the funds we need to cover all of our adoption expenses. 

The money part of adoption-- there are so many things I could say about this. 

Bottom line is: I hate it. 

I hate that it costs so much to give a little girl a family. 

I've said it before, but we view adoption as a means for children to gain families, 

not for families to gain children (although that is a great added bonus).

I HATE to think that so many families are willing to open their homes, hearts, and lives to children but say no because of the overwhelming financial commitment that comes with adoption. 

We don't have the $30-40,000 we will need to cover our adoption. 

Could we have waited to start the process until we had saved that much money?
Yes. 

Do we believe it would have been the right thing to do? 

Absolutely not. 

We feel called NOW to act towards bringing our daughter home. 

We believe 100% that this is what God wants us to do. 

We are simply being obedient, no matter how scary that may seem sometimes. 

And I'm so glad we said yes. 

My daughter-- oh how I wish I could show you her little face. 

She is so so so beautiful.

And if we'd waited to start our adoption process until we'd saved the money we'd need to move forward, we could have missed her OR she could have spent YEARS in the orphanage waiting for us. 

Again-- our God is so much bigger than any amount of money. 

He loves our girl. 

He made her. 

He designed her. 

He knows her better than we ever will. 

He has been there with her while we can't be. 

And I fully believe that He wants her to come HOME. 

In the meantime, we are praying. 

We are saving our pennies. 

And we are getting on our knees and asking for help. 

Right now, we are working to raise $10,000 that we will need to cover our costs costs that will legally make Emily our daughter. 

And right now we have absolutely no idea where that money will come from other than to say 'Jesus'. 

We stand firm in the idea that He will provide. 

Will you join us in praying our girl home? 

Would you like to make a donation to help bring her here? 

If you feel called to help in this way, you'll find a donate button that will link you to paypal in the right hand column on this blog. 

Every dollar donated is one dollar closer to our girl. 

We are so grateful for every donation that comes in, whether it's $1, $100, or anywhere in between. 

And Emily's suitcase? 

It's filling up with the names of people who have given on her behalf. 

She is worth asking for.
She is worth giving for. 

She is worth sacrificing for. 

She is worth putting my pride aside for each and every day until she is home. 

Thank you thank you thank you for your help and prayers and support. 

If you need, I'll be eating M&M's on the couch like it's my job.

Make Your Mark!

Today is a special today. 

For you see, March 3rd means we have officially been on this adoption journey for nine months. 

Nine months. 

If you're a mama, you know what this means-- it means that if we weren't adopting and were having Emily the biological way, we'd have her. 

She'd be home or in the hospital covered in pink bows and kisses and wrapped in warm blankets and snuggled all day, every day. 

But that's not God's plan for our family and our girl. 

And while I'm happy because nine months in means nine months closer to our daughter, the mom in me is having a hard time. 

The truth is, we don't know exactly when she'll be home. 

Adoption is tricky like that.... so many unknowns and no real timeline. 

But we hold strong in the fact that God is in control. 

He loves our little girl, and I have no doubt that He wants her to have a family even more than we want her to have a family. 

So, instead of pouting and cramming my face full of Cadbury mini eggs, I'm choosing hope. 

She WILL come home. 

She WILL be with her family.

She WILL be snuggled all day, every day. 

It will simply happen in God's timing, not ours. 

So for now, we're waiting.....waiting with hope and anxious anticipation.

And while we're waiting, we're preparing. 

And we need your help. 

The next big step in our adoption journey will be passing court in Africa. 

Passing court is HUGE because it will mean Emily is officially, legally our daughter. 

Passing is also expensive (think about $7000), and we want to be ready the minute that happens. 

We also want Emily to know just how loved she is. 

We want her to know how many people were praying her home. 

We want her to see how big God is and how hard He worked for her. 

We want her to hear about that mountains He moved on her behalf and to know that she was fiercely loved long before we ever met her. 

So, with that in mind, I give you MARK YOUR MARK. 

Emily may not be home on the nine month mark, but she WILL be home. 

And we want to be ready. 

THIS is the suitcase we will use take with us to Africa to bring our girl home. 

And we want it to reflect all of you who have become a part of our adoption story. 

We're her family, and we are praying her home. 

But I know we aren't the only ones. 

So many people have expressed their desire for our girl to be home where she belongs, and we want her suitcase to show her just how much she is wanted and longed for and loved and prayed for and thought of. 

Will you join us in our journey to bring Emily home? 

Simply make a donation in any amount. 

A dollar, twenty dollars, all the dollars-- every little bit helps. 

It all adds up. 

And it's what we need to get her home. 

Once you make a donation, we'll add YOUR NAME to Emily's suitcase. 

Will you become a part of Emily's story? 

Will you MAKE YOUR MARK on our adoption journey? 

Thank you. 

From the bottom of my heart, thank you. 

Any mother who has ever longed for her child, pleaded to God for her child, and cried out whole heartedly for her child knows, nine months is a big, big deal when it comes to bringing home our babies. 

And Emily is indeed my baby.