Under Construction

No adoption update this time.  Just some news about our house.  We didn't expect any showings over Thanksgiving, but we've been talking with our realtor who has now suggested some house changes after 2 November showings that resulted with feedback about not liking the basement finish.

We tried to save money by finishing half the basement ourselves, but it does show like an amateur job unfortunately.  Seems we didn't put in enough screws and the drywall ceiling has begun sagging more and more as the time goes by.  And in NE they do these swirled/stamped textured ceilings and ours doesn't look professional enough.  We did everything by the book and acquired permits and passed all inspections.  The rest of the house is nice, neat and clean and professional, but when potential buyers see the basement, they are disappointed.  Sigh.

Thankfully, one of the friends I've blogged about before is coming to our rescue.  As a contractor, he knows what needs to be done, how to do it right, he will respect our home and he will even delay billing us until the house sells so we can pay him out of the profit instead of taking the tiny bit left we have in our savings account.  He had a crew tear down the basement ceiling and put in a new one.  It should be done this weekend.

Even though this guy is a dear friend of ours and I highly respect him, he's in the business of home construction and has even dabbled in flipping properties.  He knows that my personalized paint colors aren't neutral.  He has suggested that we paint not only the entire basement (because dismantling the sagging ceiling will certainly knick the cranberry colored walls), but he also suggested painting the entire 2nd floor.  The boy's room, the kids bathroom, even our waiting daughter's room will all go back to the original builder beige.  Tears.  No, more like uncontrollable sobbing.

Buyers today want move-in ready, a turn-key home (I don't know why, but I hate that phrase "turn-key," but I digress).  So, with the help of friends, we'll get the entire house painted.  And what was first the nursery for my youngest boy, that was later slated for my Nepali daughter and now my Chinese daughter will be no more and I will not be in the home to witness the change.  I can't go through that.

So, the last few days I've been utterly and completely exhausted, upset, a sobbing, depressed mess.  I haven't desired to get out of bed in the mornings and I keep begging and pleading with God to end this disaster that is our lives currently.

And just when you thought this post was getting long, here comes the second half of the story.

A few weeks ago I was talking with a friend about our adoption and she asked me if I had read Mary Beth Chapman's book Choosing to See.  I had not.  Our library didn't have it, my friend had lent her copy to another friend from church, and we're not spending money right now with the adoption so close.  But I found a used copy on Amazon for only $0.99, and a hardcover at that, with cheap shipping.  I ordered it.  Well, like I said, that was weeks ago.  I had completely forgotten about the order, in all honesty.  Then I walked out to the mailbox the other day and there is was.  "Oh yeah, I had forgotten about that."

I had known the story of the Chapman's, their adoptions and the tragic loss of one of their daughters.  And when I ordered the book, I was just hoping to learn about their adoption stories more than anything.  But in our current time of trail, I was now hoping the book might help me cope with the mess we're in.  After all, if the Chapman's can get through such an unthinkable, horrifying pain that no one should ever have to go through, I should be able to get through my measly problems!

Her book spoke to me in so many ways!  In fact, I could have written the first quarter of the book myself, except for the marrying a future award winning singer and songwriter part!  Seriously though, she shared a similar upbringing with a mom who was home and kept a beautiful house, 2 older brothers at similar age gaps to mine, she struggled with her body image (what teenage girl doesn't?), she had c-sections with her kids, and she even had a 3:00 a.m. gall bladder attack when her husband was out of town.  Hello!  Weird!

But the last part of the book, where she recalls the story of saying good bye to her daughter really met me where I am.  Although her grief is magnified 100 times more than what I'm going through because she lost a child, she didn't belittle me in my pain.  Pain is pain.  Grief is grief.  I'm hurting and I feel alone.  I'm sad and I cry.  I cry a lot!  This is the hardest thing I've ever had to go through.  And although she doesn't know each one of her readers personally, she apologized and empathized with any of her readers who are walking through a painful season.  It was heartfelt and I appreciated those words.

When it was announced that we needed to change the colors of our home to make things more neutral, that was the last straw.  I broke.  Sobbing.  My boys room.  My daughters room.  Although we are still adopting in the midst of our move across the country and I knew this would not be the home my daughter would even know, it was still heart shattering.  I had put such love, thought, time, energy and care into painting those walls.  To think of it all going away was crushing after everything that has happened so far.  Add to that the holiday season and the approaching Christmas that won't even resemble Christmas for us this year (to be saved for a later blog post), it's just been ugly.  So this week I've felt sad, alone, hopeless.  I'm tired of asking God to reveal Himself to me, to save me from this mess.  I can't find the right words to pray.  I'm tired of crying.

But Mary Beth wrote about choosing a burial plot in the cemetery for her daughter.  Ugh, I hate writing those words.  [And I'm complaining about what when others are saying good bye to their children until eternity?  Get over yourself, Brooke!]  She writes about finding a lady bug, a favorite of her daughter's, on the site that was to be the final earthly resting place for her baby girl.  She later wrote about a family member who would give everyone a Sharpie tattoo of 3 ladybugs (for each adopted daughter), a symbol of remembrance of a beautiful sweet girl who would be so greatly missed on this earth.

So, I was driving across town today back to the house and I found a ladybug crawling inside my driver's side window.  A ladybug.  In December.  It was again one of those quiet moments in the car when my 4 year old was strangely silent and my oldest was at school.  So in the quiet of the car, I'm driving west and I'm seeing this ladybug crawl along the window, zigzagging back and forth across the glass.

Like Mary Beth would say, you can call that a coincidence, call it what you want, but I call that a little gift from God today.  He showed me through a tiny little ladybug that He is here with me, He knows my troubles, He is in control when it doesn't feel to me like He is, He is working all things together for good in my life.

No, that doesn't solve anything.  It doesn't solve the fact that my husband's new job has him on the West Coast while we still haven't sold our house here in NE and we're living out of boxes and suitcases.  It doesn't make the hits to our bank account this year seem like a cake walk.  It doesn't bring my waiting daughter in China home any quicker (still no LOA yet).  But it does help me SEE that He is still out there, no, He's actually here with me in this constant daily struggle.  He will get me through this winter season of life and He will bring about new growth in the Spring.

Tomorrow may be a good day, it may be a bad day.  It's all a part of the journey.  Tonight I still hurt for our own chaos.  I hurt for the Chapman's who lost a piece of their hearts.  But I am thankful for their story and I'm amazed that our creative Creator would use their story to speak to me.  Tonight I thank God for the ladybug.