As Beth previously stated, we’ve been a little busy/lazy, but things keep happening, so we have to catch up! What that means for you is two blog posts tonight.
As you know, our official adoption was on September 10, 2012. We adopted five kids and they adopted us. It was the culmination of 5 years of prayer and an amazing day for all of us. Once we got home a week later we got out of the “get our kids home at all costs” mode and got into the “paying off all costs” mode. Unfortunately, we discovered we had one additional expense… a re-adoption.
What the heck is a re-adoption? If you try to Google it, you get a bunch of football play diagrams for the “read option”. Sometimes Google gets confused. A re-adoption simply allows the U.S. to mimic the adoption decree that the foreign country issued. We will have an accompanying adoption decree for the U.S. (similar to the Sentencia that we received from Colombia) that will ensure that the kids will be entitled to all of the rights that they should have as our children according to federal and state laws. The other nice thing is it gets a birth certificate for our kids on record so they don’t have to fly down to Colombia every time they need one. Anyway, it’s a good idea, but like most things in life it means more money to spend. We saved up and were planning to have this done in December, but that’s when the washing machine and dryer died (As a side note, a washer/dryer set and re-adoptions for five kids are about the same price). Fast-forward through five fastidious months of saving, and we are ready to try again.
More forms, more money, but heck, we’ve been through an adoption. We know the drill. May 31 will be our court date, so we’ll let you know how it goes.
In the mean time, we’ve been praying, reading the Bible, and going to church as a family, and some stuff is starting to stick with the older kids. Since there are five weekdays and we have five kids, each one gets a different night to lead prayer for the family. When they do, they usually ask Jesus into their heart. Each one has asked Him to come into their heart about five to ten times. Judging from conversations, we felt like the older two were starting to connect the dots. Because we don’t like working without a safety net, we called our good friend, Isaac, who is fluent and Spanish in case we had problems explaining, and we walked them through what “having Jesus in their hearts” really means.
A few years ago, I did a presentation of the gospel using those little transparency slides (for an overhead projector… you 80’s children who went to public school remember the days!). Fortunately, I still had them and used them . Giving credit where credit was due, I ripped this off a man named Joe, who shared this with me during children’s church when I was about 10. To a young, impressionable Tyler, it stuck with me, and I haven’t forgotten it in about 23 years. He has about 12 kids and is currently serving as a missionary in Bolivia (I never thought I would have so many connections to South America).
Of course, sometimes as Christians, we still have problems with “Bad Me” wanting to take back control, but we try hard every day to keep Jesus there, where He needs to be.
That’s it. So simple a child can understand, and, at the same time, so overwhelmingly amazing that Biblical scholars and grown men can’t.
After walking them through it, I asked them if they understood. “Si, Papi”. I told them if they needed some time to think about it, that would be OK, but if they were ready, we could for-real ask Jesus into our hearts. Both said yes!
While it just cost me some time and money to bring these kids into my family, it cost God His only Son to bring them into His. Amazing love.
So Beth got the best Mother’s Day present (not her new Fossil Sunglasses that me and the kiddies picked out at my company store). We got to take our oldest son and daughter up on Sunday to tell the pastor that Jesus lives inside of them!
(I’m trying not to steal Beth’s thunder too much… she keeps promising a Mother’s Day blog).
Before I make everybody cry (myself included), I’ll tell you a joke my brother told me a few weeks ago. On Easter Sunday, during the children’s time, a pastor tells the kids that it is Resurrection Sunday, and asks if any of them knows what the resurrection is. One kid raises his hand and says, “I don’t know, but if you have one that lasts more than four hours, you need to see your doctor.”
At the dinnermesa,