What a difference a year makes...

What a difference a year makes...
It has been quite a long time since our last blog post.  For those of you who have forgotten us, let me start with who we are.  We are a family of twelve with 10 children, 2 parents, 3 dogs, 2 cats, 2
horses, and 11 chickens.  Six of our children are adopted internationally, and 4 of them are biological.  The young ones range in age from 4 to 14.

We are odd; we standout from the crowd. We have 6 children with dark skin and 4 with light skin.  We drive a mid sized bedroom on wheels.  We are loud and creative.  All of these factors make
us novel in our small mid-west home.  For evidence to support this oddness, following us to Sam's would make you a believer. 

Testosterone thrives in our midst.  We are rambunxious, mostly coming from the 7 boys with a small contribution from the 3 girls.  The boys are between the ages of 10 and 4.  Daily we wrestle,
punch, kick, or attempt to fight our way to the top.  One would think you should feel sorry for the girls in the household, and this would be a valid assumption. 

The milestone of this past month is that our newest four children have been home a year.  They were ages 9,7,6, and 5 when they arrived in America.  Without English or knowledge of our food or
culture they have adapted amazingly well.  We can communicate freely, have identified with American food they love (pizza), and understand basic cultural norms (i.e. flushing toilets and using
hand dryers).

Now while I will tell you that we like American foods, we still eat them a little differently.  Take a hamburger for instance.  A typical American will pick up the burger and eat it one bite at a time, all
layers together.  We, however, tend to eat it one layer at a time-- bun, tomato, lettuce, cheese, meat, and then bun.  Everything dipped in a fair amount of ketchup for good measure.  In fact, this
style has become so popular in the Stinson household that our oldest son, who was born in America, has adopted this practice at times. 

We have the most interesting conversations. One of our older boys after watching the Son of God movie prayed, "Dear God, I am sorry that they killed you.  I don't want them to kill you."
Or from our younger group, "Dad, does Batman throw bats?"  My response, "Yes, son. He throws little bats at bad guys."  His response, "If Batman were called Buttman, would he throw butts?" 
Trying to end the conversation, "Well, I guess he would."  At that moment you could see his brain attempting to connect the dots, "Wouldn't that make his car the-"  Interupting "Let's not go
there,son."

A year ago, knowing how challenging it was going to be as we brought these four lives into our home, we set goals.  My goal was to survive.  We have done this, sometimes by a thread and
sometimes with great success.  This week alone we have had one struggle with our son attempting to dominate everyone else which deteriorated into him attempting to break everything around
him.  One hour later we emerged from the violence without spitting, biting, or hitting.  A major improvement!  We had another in the middle of a ride at Silver Dollar City, who paused and glazed
over, fingers in his ears.  A surreal site to observe as he attempted to mentally remove himself from the overstimulation.

The truth of this last year is that we all have scars.  The 6 we have adopted have obvious scars from physical abuse, lack of food, and mental trauma.  Dealing with these has been humbling and
beyond difficult.  We will continue to fight these battles with them for the rest of their lives. 
The less recognizable struggle is how these scars have become woven into the fabric of our being.  If you would have asked me a few years ago I would have said I want to walk through the pain
with them, but that isn't the nature of this type of pain.  These scars are so raw and untouched that what happens is the pain gets transferred to us.  It isn't enough to walk through it as an observer;
we must experience the pain with them.  We experience it through the violence, anger, outbursts, and reclusiveness which occur, and we start to develop those same tendencies.  Their pain starts
to manifest in our own lives.  Our relationships get affected.  We stop communicating with each other.  Emotions become hidden, and what was once a small struggle has become a Goliath in our
lives.

We now fight this battle, a battle to deal with the scars created in our own lives.  We want to reclaim our lives from the despair and pain of the evil in this world and begin to thrive, not just survive.  I
believe this is what Christ meant when he said, "I have come that you might have life and that you might have it abundantly."  He can take the broken and make it beautiful.  He can take the past
and the evil and make it into a beautiful abundance in Him.  His perspective came from above; a perspective that was deeply planted in the eternal.  He wasn't focused on the hurt of today.  He
wasn't caught in the circumstance and left feeling the anger.  For now, we will take time to share in the sorrow and mourn the pain of our sweet children, but we will trust Him to make it beautiful. 
His abundance is for now.    

Funny, interesting, and sad

It seems there is a cacophany of stories we could tell of what it is like to have 10 children, with 4 recently adopted from a foreign country.  Some stories are funny, some interesting, and some hearbreaking.  In fact so many interesting statements come out of the mouths of the twelve of us that we have created a quote book to capture them.  Interestingly enough,  the funniest tend to eminate from Chandra or me.  Here are some classics.

Chandra--  "Worth, no.  Don't touch your brother's bottom."

Graham, on Thanksgiving--  "Why do I have food in my crotch!?"

Aubrey--  "Graham, do what the microwave tells you."

Lee, when buying orange juice-- "Look, mom.  Orange milk!"

Levi, after Chandra explained that snow was falling from the sky and we could build a snowman--  "Look mom, the snowman is falling"

Chandra, after a short wedgie fest with Dad and the boys-- "We don't give a wedgie to someone unless they want one."  Surely prompted by vision of our children giving wedgies to random people at Church or in Wal-mart. 

Christmas is huge in our house as evidenced by the speakers bellowing out Christmas anthems as October rolls around.  As we have gone throughout the season, we discovered the fource had never experienced or heard of Christmas.  We would ask questions like do you know Mary, baby Jesus, Christmas trees, Santa, etc.  The answer would always be, "I don't know."  While we expected this, it was also a reality check.  Five months ago our lives were so different.

While there are definately some hilarious times there are also heavy challenges.  For the very few of you who aren't aware, we have had 2 visits from the police, one televised.  The first episode occurred in Springfield after our son had tried to run away out of frustration of sharing.  In Ethiopia there is no unsafe place-- kids run on the streets, cars stop, and life continues.  When you are frustrated you get away as fast as you can.  Not so, in America.  As I was attempting to calm him down, observed by oncoming traffic and small businesses, up pulls the Springfield police department.  Forty-five minutes later they understood I wasn't abusing him.

Episode #2, or the televised episode, was a similar "running" episode and occurred at home.  It involved friends, our social worker, the Greene County Police Department, approximately 12 officers, the canine unit, the Missouri State Troopers, a helicopter, and two television trucks.  The helicopter was the winner and found our son 3 1/2 hours after he ran to get some space. 

The harsh truth is that this work we have been called to is very hard.  Friends and family have seen this first hand, and without them I know we wouldn't be standing here.  Just yesterday after a very difficult time Chandra said, "This can't be what we were called to."  And yet we both know in the essence of our being the truth.  But, in desperate times we say desperate things.  It reminds me of a quote from an associate of Mother Teresa, "She is free to be nothing; thefore God can use her for anything."  Unlike Mother Teresa this characteristic doesn't come naturally to us, we have to be taught the beauty of nothingness. 

As I was driving home a few days ago I listened to an old Mat Kearney song called What's a Boy to Do.  The song is about a boy who has no father and it follows him throughout his life.  It is not a traditional or flashy song and doesn't follow the typical verse, chorus, verse, bridge pattern.  It takes time to digest because at the end of each stanza is a phrase that flows into the next end of stanza phrase.  Let me put them together...

What's a boy to do who knows no man now?
What's a boy to do when there's no man at home?
What's a boy to do with no man in his heart? 
What's the Son of Man and a boy to do?
What's the Son of Man and this boy to you?

Do you see the progression?  No parent, no grounding, no example, no understanding of our Father, no hope, and we find out in the end, death.  This world will chew us up and spit us out without a second thought.  Why should we expect any other outcome?  So we remember 1 Corinthians 10:13  "He will not give us more than we can bear..." and we persevere. 

So we write quotes in a quote book to laugh, endure our visits with the police, and cry when we need to remembering, all the time holding fast to His promise of finishing this good work He has started.   

The Good, the bad, our new friends, and the Great Stinson Mystery!!

Chandra and the kids have officially been home for 1 week, and life has been interesting. We have had many firsts for the fource from water bottles to door knobs to water fountains. One of the funnest times at our house is bath time. Lee Atnafu and Orin Mihretu, the 5 and 6 year old boys, are like greased pigs in the tub. In fact Worth and Jeremiah have asked us after their bath, "Can we watch them bathe?" And I have to admit it is well worth the time. They giggle, roll over and talk almost non-stop in what I believe is a lanaguage, although I can't understand. They splash around to the point that the entire floor is wet. We might be a little more lax with their splashing because they have so much fun with it, but shhh don't tell anyone. New words have become a fixture in our house. Conjo Amharic for good, Yalem Amharic for no. Worth and Jeremiah are even understanding them and may become fluent in Amharic, if anyone needs an interpreter. There have been some truly dark times. Monday of last week when the reality of organizing a house of 10 kids occurred, there was a time of weeping. This weeping has occurred approximately once per day for other random reasons. The darkest time was getting shots for the oldest. We spoke and acted with Levi Ashenafi, age 9, about everything in advance, and he understood; we could tell. From his records he had 3 shots previously in June. Everything went well until they actually brought the needles into the room. He lost it. I held him down while the nurses gave him 4 shots in the leg. We sat in the room for 45-60 minutes afterwards with him voicing his disatisfaction in more of a wail than a cry. He wouldn't let me hold him. He hid behind the table in a fetal position. When I finally decided we needed to go, Emmaline led the 3 others out while I bear hugged Levi and carried him out of the clinic, which was the back way. It wasn't the shots that bothered him, that pain was gone within a few minutes. It was me forcing him to do it. He calmed down by the time we got home. This is the response of a child who has endured great loss. We have adopted new friends, but not the kind you want. Wednesday night while Emmaline was braiding Evelyn Shega's hair we discovered a bug, not the type you pick out and wash away. The type that keeps on giving, LICE. By 1:30 in the morning we had all of the boy's hair shaved, Shega's hair trimmed, and all the blonde head's treated. In case you run into this problem I don't recommend attempting to get 12 boxes of Rid from 1 store. They don't keep that much in stock. The next day was spent sterilizing the house as well as bagging up all of the miscellaneous stuffed animals, blankets etc. Greater than 20 trash bags in all. This is a title we never desired, but have acquired-- Defeator's of Lice. The joy is we get to treat everyone's hair again on Wednesday... sooooo looking forward to it. AND...The Great Stinson mystery is underway. Each day I have walked into a random room and felt hot- thinking, "Am I having hot flashes or is the AC not working?" At the thermostat I find it set on heat or emergency heat. I'm sure there is a little finger pushing buttons but it is a mystery. No one has seen who is pushing the buttons but it continues to occur. So either there is a cold ghost in the house or we have a sneaky button pusher. We will see what time reveals. Overall, God has been good. Looking back the week had many firsts, moments of jubilation, new words, crying spells from the adults, and scary moments. But with all of that we have been sustained by God's grace and His calling.

Update

At 1 am our time Chandra, her father, and "the fource" will be at the US embassy applying for a visa. All other hurdles have been demolished. In theory they will be ready to leave for home on Wednesday. The "in theory" part is because there are no flights out until August 23rd meaning it might be 12 more days until they can leave. So we wait... Getting 6 tickets out to come home early would normally be a challenge but throw in the fire at the international airport in Kenya and there are no flights available. The airline has said they might send an additional aircraft through but it hasn't materialized yet. Thanks for your continued prayers and support.

The peace of God

I, Matt, left Ethiopia last night. At 10:05 my mother-in-law, my mother, and myself boarded a plane to come back to the US without our 4 new children. Behind we left my wife and father-in-law who are waiting to bring the children home. Today as I am writing this the birth mother is awaiting her interview at the embassy. It is to be at 6:00 AM our time Wednesday morning. (Prayer point #1) Once that is completed the embassy will finish their evaluation of the case which we pray happens quickly. (Prayer point #2) We will schedule an interview with the embassy as soon as possible. (Prayer point #3) After the embassy appointment is set up Chandra and her father wil take custody of the four children (Prayer point #4) and they will attempt to move the flight up. (Prayer point #5). This will be a significant challenge as moving up 1 ticket is foreseeable, moving 6, must be of God. We started this second trip to Ethiopia knowing full well that we could come home without the kids as there were so many loose ends to tie up. But we knew it was of God. Why, you ask? Why would it be of God to leave your six children at home with friends and family to pursue the other 4 children? Simply put, it comes down to the peace of the Lord. Three years ago we were in a similar situation with Jeremiah's adoption. All air traffic had been shut down in and out of Europe so we had to make a quick decision. Do I go by myself, leaving the rest of the family behind to bring home a baby from across the world knowing I would be late for the embassy appointment even after our own agency had advised us not to go? The peace of God said "Yes, go." In Jeremiah's case the peace started with me. After prayer, I had a compelling from the Holy Spirit to go by myself. After i discussed with Chandra, she agreed and both of us shared this peace. In the fource's case Chandra led out with a nudging from the Spirit that it was right to go. After prayer, I agreed. So, here we sit in the middle of that step of faith waiting for God to move and pull all of the pieces together. But what if He doesn't? What if everything falls apart and all of our best laid plans fail? Was going not of God? Do we judge the truth of the call based on the outcome? Surely not. If the birth mother interview fails, the embassy appointment doesn't happen right away, the plane tickes cannot be moved, or if, God forbid Chandra and her father come home without the children, how do we respond? We will mourn. The depth and breadth of our mourning will be felt by those closest to us but... we will not question what God has laid on our hearts. Whatever occurs mourning or rejoicing we will give God the glory for His purposes have been completed in our lives. Please pray for those areas listed above. God is moving.

Appearances vs. Reality

Anyone who has had the blessing of caring for children on a regular basis knows the differences between your first interaction with the child and the reality of his or her nature. There is that initial "honeymoon" period of behavior where they are able to control their struggles, and then there is reality. Reality is always uglier and messier than it first appears. Adoption agencies do a good job of preparing your for some of these struggles, having you read books that discuss worst case scenarios and how to deal with them. They use phrases like artificial twinning, post-adoption depression, and the dreaded reactive attachment disorder. We have prepared for some of these problems especially those unique to adopting older children. What will it be like for them to use a toilet the first time? How do I teach them to shower? How will they handle the 17 hour flight? How will I handle the 17 hour flight with all 4 for them? Will they be overstimulated by American culture? What foods will they like? How will they interact with our other children? How can I communicate with a child whose language I don't understand? And the questions mount as the stream of consciousness flows with more and more firsts for these children. We have prepared for these concerns. Over the past few days we have started to see the "reality" of our children. Shega... playful, likes games, but possessive of her belongings. Atanfu... Rough, likes active games, when angry he kicks. Mirihetu... in his own little world, happy, quiet, seems to be oblivious to the orphanage. Ashenafi... seems to include the others, holds hands well, likes soccer, "gets" that we are adopting him. At first that last statement doesn't seem too important but it is of the utmost importance in Levi Ashenafi's attachment to us. Today as we were preparing to leave he developed a "headache" that caused him to withdraw, shed tears, and have difficulty explaining his emotions. He had this intense look of sadness. Chandra and I saw it right away; even without words we understood. You see to Ashenafi there has been a continual pattern of people who have come into his life and abandoned him. His father, dead. Six homes in the last 2 years. His birth mother, relinquished him. Sent to one orphanage. Now in another. Eighty-three children in his current orphanage with scores of parents like us coming in and out to adopt other children. Never him. Now there is a family for him but every day they leave? Why do they leave? They say they love me? Why don't I go home with them? We are just another layer of disappointment to him. When adopting you understand there is baggage that comes along with the child. As the parents you have to deal with all of the failures and disappointments the child previously encountered. But never do you enjoy seeing that inner struggle. It is so painful to see. So ugly and real. Yet it is the reality of the situation. We reach down into the muck and filth of their past life and vow to walk through it with them. To help them when they can't see and to feel for them when they are too hurt to feel. But it is never pretty, and it is always painful. Maybe that is why the reality of the cross is so different than the appearance. A cross necklace is a beautiful and innocent reminder of God's sacrifice for me. The reality of the cross is so completely different. God allowed himself to be bruised, bloody, and broken for me. A broken people being saved by a God who chose to be broken to reach us. He reached into the muck and the filth of my life to walk through it with me. And so we, as the people of God do likewise. As God brings it to your mind, please pray for those concerns above; mostly how to reach them.

And we met...

What do you expect when meeting four new children whom you have only previously spent 1 hour with and who have never known you as father and mother? On the plane ride here we had many moments of random thoughts such as "What if they run away?" or "Will they want to be touched?" or even "Do I hug them?" And yet with a single encounter all of those questions get wiped away. The first encounter with our children as mother and father went extraordinarily well. They recognized us and ran to meet us. We had Aha moments like "They remembered us!". They wanted to call us mom and dad. We cycled through the books we had previously made them and named random people such as "Graham, Wil, Jasmine, the dog, Mom, Emmy, etc." One by one they would repeat after us the names of the people with their interesting little accent. Foosball was a favorite and so was high five. It wasn't all rosy. There were awkward pauses due to inability to communicated in Amharic. Lapses of time where nothing was said and nothing was communicated. How do you communicate with someone you can't speak to? There were thoughts of what do we do next? One of us would say, "Let's look at pictures on the phone." or "Let's see their beds." We finished the day with all of our questions from the plane answered but new ones had arisen. The sense of peace we were striving for was balanced with new questions of language and communication. Fear was beginning to rise in our minds again! How is it that we can go from fear to momentary peace back to fear again? When we find our calling in life we want to be able to believe that we will walk through it with peace and courage. Yet it isn't always that way. We have good friends in Papau New Guinea who have been missionaries for many years who have been open to share those struggles. Other friends whom we currently share our life with who have remarked of their struggle with isolation in the midst of their calling. I am reminded as the Bible tells us that "the battle is in the mind". How easy it is to let my mind drift back to thoughts of fear or as we sometimes rename it, concern. And if I let my mind follow that rabbit hole I will become disempowered and worthless, giving glory to only myself which in turn just proves how unworthy I am. There is an alternative though. God had just answered all of our questions with a resounding "Do not be afraid!" And we blinked and almost missed it. What if I were to stay in the moment and give God the glory and praise, not giving in to my fear? There is such power there. Power only because God is source of that power, not me. "May you be strengthened with all power, according to His glorious might, for all endurance and patience, with joy giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you..." Colossians 3:11-12 We still have many questions and hurdles to endure. We are visiting the kids every day. As the Lord brings us to your mind please pray for our growing relationship with the kids, the birth mother interview to go smoothly as well as the embassy date. It will be in God's power not ours.