Loving Hope

Big things are happening for this little one.



Tomorrow we head to Boston Children's Hospital to have the first of two very important all day appointments which will impact this sweet one's future.




We have hope that the team has good plans in store. The head doctor is already saying not "if" but "when".



The days with her are precious. She is getting stronger every day and developing the sweetest personality. She is worth the round the clock feedings and care. What she gives in return is greater. So much greater.



Having her snuggle in during feedings in the stillness of night. Watching her squeal in delight at the antics of her sisters. Having her delicate hand reach for mine. Seeing her radiant smile.



I want more. I want to see her walk and run. I want to hear her call me mama. I want to follow the school bus as it brings her to Kindergarten on that first day. I want to see her be baptized in front of our church family. And I want to see her walk down the aisle to be married someday. I want a future for her. Yet these current moments are where I am to remain.



I cherish these moments. I don't want the moments to ever end. Tomorrow will unfold according to His plans. And I trust that her future is in the hands of the ultimate Healer.

Amazing Hope

Five weeks ago we received little Hope. Thirty five days of a tiny baby girl who collects hearts are now forever part of our family. The changes we have seen in her are nothing short of miraculous as she goes about living despite a past that most people could not have endured. There are times when I honestly cannot imagine being in her situation and have so much to learn from this little one.

I have been fortunate to become part of a group of families who are raising children with liver failure. As I read the messages and learn of the symptoms these children have to struggle through, it is so apparent that these children NEED their families. Having families are what enable them to keep going. Having families are what allow them to survive. Having families are what bring them comfort in the face of a horrible illness. These children feel sick, are poked and prodded, and face tests and hospitalizations. They are prone to anxiety and trauma reactions. They have distended abdomens and some have pain or a hard time breathing. They get fevers and are prone to all sorts of infections. They can have life threatening bleeding in their gastrointestinal tract. They can become anemic. They are unable to absorb nutrients and vitamins from their own bodies. Their kidneys can begin to fail. They have horrible internal itching, which one of my dearest friends (who not coincidentally is an adult liver doctor) says has caused some adults patients to end their own lives. This is what happens with liver failure. Liver failure is what my sweet baby Hope lives with each and every day. And she has endured liver failure, up until 35 days ago, as an orphan. And orphan who had no one to consistently hold her as she feels horribly itchy or sick to her stomach. An orphan who has had no one to feed her every few hours due to the enormous pressure that her huge liver and spleen place on her stomach. An orphan who became so malnourished that she had undetectable levels of vitamin A in her bloodstream. An orphan who, despite living the past 11 months of her life alone lying on her back in a crib, hadn't given up that others might be willing to take a chance on her. An orphan, who deserved to have a family just like the other children I have read about who are fighting liver failure. An orphan, who 35 days ago became an orphan no longer.

Hope has had two appointments with Dr Jonas who is the liver doctor (hepatologist) in charge of the liver failure and transplant program. I met with Dr Jonas back in December about Hope when we were trying to bring her here to the US on an emergency medical visa. I liked her right away during that December meeting, when she spoke to me for over 45 minutes along with Dr Lang, our cardiologist. Both of these amazing MD's had chosen to spend their own, unbillable time with me. Together, they explained some basics about liver failure and the technicalities of medical visas. They both suggested that adoption would be baby Hope's hope. At the first of the two appointments Hope has had since arriving home, it was clear that my baby girl's story was already known. Several doctors and nurses from the liver transplant program had come to our room just to say congratulations and meet little Hope. One had shared that she "knew" Hope from her photos that Dr Jonas had shared to their team. It was clear to me at that initial appointment that my daughter would receive the best care from the best providers who truly have her best interests at heart. And the mercies haven't stopped there. Not only has Hope begun receiving the medical and nutritional support at Children's Hospital Boston that she has so desperately needed, my entire family has been receiving physical and emotional support beyond my wildest imagination. Our local pediatrician's office has extended themselves above and beyond to exceptionally manage Hope's care along with the care of my four other daughters. The thoughtfulness and kindness we have received there is above the highest standards imaginable. Many friends have stepped up to check in on us and ask what is needed. A friend has been coming by to help clean my condo each week, like our own Mary Poppins. Another dear sister in Christ has agreed to pay my mortgage and condo fee for the time being, knowing that I would be on unpaid Family Medical Leave Act to take care of baby Hope. Another dear friend has started a GoFundMe page for financial support as we prepare for transplant. Another dear brother from church took it upon himself to establish a contribution account through Lifesong for Orphans to help defray the adoption expenses. Another dear brother and sister from our church family helped defray adoption costs while we spent precious time together in Guangzhou to finalize our adoptions. People have donated time, energy, and food. Very dear friends have been picking up my older daughters to take them to school each morning, and provide rides to places. They have selflessly given of their time when I am beyond exhausted to take the older girls out to play, to get something to eat, or to just come be present as I now manage life with five amazing daughters. We have received precious emails of encouragement and prayer support. The teachers at the after school program my daughters' attend along with the daycare teachers where Hannah Joy attends have given the girls extra attention along with flexibility to our family. My parents have continued to step in to help with daily tasks and provide much appreciated love and care to us. Thinking about the compassion shown to us brings me speechless.

Thirty five days ago I had no idea what God was getting me into as I took a very frail, fragile, sick baby into my arms to be her mother. I was petrified and uncertain of where this would lead us. There are still moments when the thoughts of future possibilities terrify me, and I have to remember the mercies provided thus far and that the moments I have right now are where I am to be living. In five short weeks I have learned so much about living. Really living. All because of a most amazing blessing named baby Hope.

Living in Hope

HOPE

Hope is the knowledge that we are being changed for the better as we trust in God's promises (Romans 8:28). It is the conviction that no matter the circumstances, God's plans for our lives are "for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope" (Jeremiah 29:11b NLT). These things are truth, not just something that *may* happen. It is these things I trust in.

Sweet little Hope has been with us for 22 days now. Days where all of us are being changed for the better. She is, perhaps, the sweetest baby ever born. She steals hearts, this little one. And everyone who meets her instantly falls for her.

Our time in China was miraculous, just as her life thus far has been. She smiled when we met her at the airport. Yes, smiled. People have asked if she somehow recognized me and that I was back for her. I don't know the answer to this, but believe her little heart was prepared for our reunification. She was and is tiny, being the size of a 3-4 month old. The reality of how sick she is is visibly apparent in her eyes and body, and yet, she continues to smile and defy the odds. Her features are so beautifully delicate and I spent hours just staring at her in amazement that she is alive and in my arms again. That she is my baby daughter.

The miraculous nature of her story is truly unfathomable, and I am just beginning to try to process it all. I still am in awe that her story involves me and know that it is only because of God's plan for her that she is still here. There is no explanation to how she endured and survived the past 11 months when she was given a 1 month at life timeframe from a number of doctors. Even a doctor from here in the US took a look at her labs and gave her a month or so to live. This, back in January. Sweet Hope is a fighter and has one of the strongest wills to live that I have ever seen. Another miracle is her ability to have a family at all. See, she was considered "unadoptable" due to her prognosis. I would ask her orphanage about her adoption papers and was met with no answer. No answer is the way of saying no. It wasn't until my oldest daughter begged me to ask the orphanage if they would prepare her papers for us. For adoption into our family specifically. I explained to her that I would, but that she would need to be prepared because the orphanage would likely say no. Yet, the orphanage said yes. Unadoptable became adoptable, and she would not suffer or be alone in her pain ever again. Another hurdle was finding agency support. There are very few single parents who have been able to adopt 5 children from China. Upon approach to my agency, I received this response "I am not a religious person but I do hear a calling from the heaven. Yes, we will help you". Miracles. There are no other explanations.

There is something both profound and inspiring when opening one's heart to a child who is so sick. I am somewhat of a planner by nature. Plans were made for both the near and distant future. I am learning to let go of the plans, or perhaps hold onto them very loosely now. Life can change in an instant, and what I really have is the here and now. There are so many gifts in the here and now, and how foolish I have been for missing them as I planned away the lives of myself and my daughters. Having little Hope in my life is teaching me to slow down and to remain in the present. To find the beauty and mercies in each and every moment. To cherish the times of each day along with the people given to me. And to try to remember that His hope and trust have brought us this far and will carry us through.

Choosing Hope

There are some things in life which just defy all human understanding or logic. Things which are truly unexplainable and impossible. Miracles, really. Right now, as I sit in Logan airport ready to depart for China, I realize that I have become part of something that is beyond my understanding. It is likely beyond many others' understanding.
This was not expected. At all. And to say that I am terrified would be an understatement. If I think about this too long, right now, the panic can become consuming. Because it is scary. Saying yes to a dying child who needs a mother is very scary.
I literally had to stop writing, because I was freaking myself out thinking of just how enormous this all is. Because it is huge and unfathomable to myself and likely most other people. But it isn’t huge to God. So now I am settled on the plane and realizing I have had it all wrong. Again. My perspective of fear and panic derived from thinking about the big picture and the impossibility of what is happening. Instead, I realized while sitting here next to my second and forth daughter, that I am to seize this moment and recognize it as a gift. And oh what a gift it is. I am heading back to the place where part of my heart always is. I am heading to the place where my daughters were born, and where my littlest dying daughter is waiting for me. This time not as an orphanage volunteer, but as her mother. I am heading back to the place where very special friends live, and where my Meimei lives. I am getting another chance to be back there, and to breathe in all of the amazing opportunities that I will be given. I will be able to soak in the beauty of holding a tiny baby again. I will be able to study her sweet face, and smell her baby breath. I will be able to be present on the first anniversary of Meimei’s son’ s death so that she does not need to go thought this day alone. I will be able to be in fellowship with my dear friends and share life with them. These things are not scary at all. They are life giving and energizing. I need to remember that each day, each moment, is a gift. Remembering that is still hard for me but I will try.
The fact that I am on this plane, in this place right now, is completely against all human rationale. It makes no sense that a baby who was given only 1 month to live is still alive 11 months later. It is incomprehensible that I have been granted permission to be her mother. The orphanage would not complete her paperwork for anyone else. Why me? I still do not know. But that really doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have a choice to respond. I can decide to look at this and think “no way it’s too hard”, “how could I possibly do it”, and/or “ I am too terrified to take the leap, fearing the what ifs”. Or I can choose hope. I can choose to say yes and try to live presently in each moment. I can choose to be assured that there is still beauty and mercy in this broken world. I can choose hope that only comes from knowing Him. I can choose to remind myself that this story has greater purposes than I can ever begin to understand. I choose hope.

Hope in brokenness

I received photos this morning.

And my mother's heart is shattered.

She is in the PICU at a local Chinese hospital.

She is alone.

She is very sick.

She is scared.

She is an orphan.

It is all so very wrong.

Her life matters.

Her suffering matters.

Babies are not meant to suffer alone.

People. People are not meant to suffer alone.

I am looking for the mercy.

I know it's there.

Somewhere it's there.

I trust it's there.

The Extraordinary

Yesterday, our amazing beloved pastor continued our sermon series on the old testament. Now, I have to admit, the old testament is not something that is easy for me to understand or apply to my life. Sure I learned bible stories as a kid, and remember bits and pieces of them now, but my overall understanding of the old testament has been, well, pretty poor. But God. God has given us the wisdom of brilliant people, like our pastor, who does have understanding of the old testament and who can discern what the text may be saying to us. What that text may be saying to me. And so yesterday, we looked at Ruth. And I waited with anticipation to see how this could possibly have anything to do with me. Because, it's about me, right? Ha. God has a sense of humor, and used yesterday to remind me that it isn't about me. Well, definitely not really about me in a direct way. It is about Him. And about how He uses people like me for His purposes. It would have been difficult to not focus on what our pastor was saying, as he went on to explain how God is willing to use people, even like me as He weaves His way to be a blessing to all the nations. I kept thinking that this was God speaking directly to me through our pastor. I know it was.

I am really a simple, ordinary person. In the big scheme of life, I am a little person. I am not a lawyer or judge who can fight for justice. I am not a brilliant doctor offering healing. I am not a skilled computer expert who can devise technological advances to change lives. I am in the mainstream. Just someone who gets up every day, goes to work, and takes care of children. I don't desire glamor or wealth. I don't desire to be noticed. Those who know me know that to be true. I like to feel like I am living life to the fullest, and that somehow I make a difference in the lives of others. In some small way. So yesterday, when our pastor spoke of how God used a "random, peasant woman" named Ruth as the person who would enable the lineage of king David, which would lead to Christ, I got chills. God chose the ordinary person to accomplish something extraordinary. He chose someone who is the average person. Our pastor explained, our lives matter. Our lives have purpose. ALL lives have purpose. Not only the big, important people. Even those of us who are the little people. Our lives can make a difference, even if we never see the final outcome. Ruth never knew the final outcome, which is ok because it's not about her. I know that I am being called to do more. Why me? I have no clue. I suppose it's because I am ordinary and unexpected and God is God. I suppose it's because God has an extraordinary purpose to fulfill in part through a random girl like me.

As I thought about these words, I thought of the orphans we met last November, and over the past 10 years that I have been lucky enough to do work with orphanages. Their lives matter. I thought of my four daughters. Their lives matter. I thought of sweet Hope. Her life matters. Maybe she will never see the outcome of her story either. Maybe she will never know how people have come together to pray for her miracle. How miracles already happened in the unfolding of her story. How desperately she is wanted and loved by so many around the world. The fact that Hope has lived this long with end stage liver disease is extraordinary. The fact that it is her life which opened my eyes to the needs of the sickest of orphans is extraordinary. The fact that God would choose an ordinary single mother to be a part of His extraordinary plan is just beyond words. Like Ruth, neither Hope nor I may ever see the final outcome of the purposes of our lives, which is ok. I know for certain, because it is about Him and not about me, that whatever happens in this next phase of my life is somehow related to His greater purpose and good. And I am grateful to our pastor for that reminder.

Twenty years of grafting

Twenty years ago, I was a new grad OT and began my career working at an outpatient rehabilitation center. I had done one of my internships there, and loved working with both adult and pediatric patients who had neurological or oncology diagnoses. It wasn't too long into my work when I was assigned to see a 9 year old who had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. She had sustained treatment, and it had taken its toll on her little body. Since we had a therapeutic pool, her doctors thought maybe this would give her some relief from the pain she constantly felt. I couldn't wait to get started with her, and at the time had no idea how she would impact my life so profoundly. I looked at her therapy holistically. We would make it fun at all times. I would help her to live life to the fullest, while treating not only her physical needs, but her emotional needs as well. I had no idea that what I was doing for sweet Sarah, was a form of palliative care. It is the type of care I believe all children with life threatening conditions deserve.

Going to China in November opened my eyes to the reality that the sickest of orphans are often left to suffer and die alone. There is very little helping them to live life to the fullest as they live out their final days. I came home especially touched by baby Hope, and what I realized was that my ultimate prayer for her was that she could live life to the fullest, and not die alone. I literally said those words to Dr Jonas, the head of the liver transplant team at Children's Hospital Boston. I explained to her that even if she were too sick for transplant, I didn't want her to suffer and die alone. I so wanted to be the one to be with her in her final days, and became haunted by the thought of her suffering and being alone. But God. God knew this and had a plan. Little Hope would travel to Henan to be with Scarlet and be comforted. She would be played with. She would be held for hours on end. She would be adored and loved. Her pain and symptoms would be managed, just as I had prayed. She's not alone, and is living life to the fullest, just like Sarah did.

I am in awe of how God has been working on His plan all this time. Starting with Sarah and including other babies and young children with terminal illnesses who I have had the privilege of working with over the past 20 years. All directing me to this moment. I know what is needed, and what should be done. I have been prepared by an awesome God who has gently guided me, given me the connections in China who trust me, and enabled knowledge with experience to continue my work there.

As I consider the magnitude of this unfolding, I cannot help but think of the children who are waiting. Who are, at this very minute, suffering and alone. There has to be a better way. I know there is a better way. It's time to make a difference. Children like baby Hope deserve it.