Somewhere Between Hope and Self-Preservation...

This is where I live. This is where I have been living for almost the last three years. Finding the balance between unabashedly hoping and trusting that the Lord will grant you your heart's desire, and protecting yourself from the seemingly constant realization that His timing is seldom your own is a constant theme in my life.

Today our adoption portfolio should be reaching a social worker in Chicago who will place it in the hands of a pregnant mother. Along with our portfolio, will be the portfolios of a few equally wonderful, able, and loving wannabe adoptive parents...couples who have probably been waiting for some time now (because unlike us, they actually have their home study done!). It's fun and exciting to start discussing things like furniture, names, logistics. It's scary yet thrilling to imagine dropping everything and leaving for Chicago at a moment's notice to meet a baby that could become our daughter. But it's dangerous. Oh so dangerous.

As a couple who has endured the month-by-month agony of infertility, every fiber of our being whispers to us things like: "She won't choose you"..."Even if she chooses you, she may not like you in person"..."She'll choose you and change her mind after the baby has already been in your arms". It's terrifying. And that's where the self-preservation comes in. That's where I try to rationalize everything to death. Just. To. Protect. I feel myself building up walls. But they're only knee-high right now. Y'know, just in case I need to step over them.

Lately I have kept coming back to Exodus 14. The Israelites have left Egypt and are in the desert. They were hopeful but are now disillusioned and terrified. The Egyptians are in hot pursuit, fearing they made a grave mistake by letting the Israelites go. When the Israelites find themselves surrounded by Pharaoh and his army, Moses says in verses 13 and 14, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the LORD will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

The Egyptians in this story are my deepest fears and doubts. Moses represents our friends and family who have so graciously been walking alongside us in the desert. And the LORD...well, He is the LORD. The unchanging Yahweh. The One who keeps His promises and fights for His people. May we be still and trust that He will fight for us as we cross the Red Sea and beyond. Whenever that may be...



Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the LORD drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left.

The Egyptians pursued them, and all Pharaoh’s horses and chariots and horsemen followed them into the sea. During the last watch of the night the LORD looked down from the pillar of fire and cloud at the Egyptian army and threw it into confusion. He jammed the wheels of their chariots so that they had difficulty driving. And the Egyptians said, “Let’s get away from the Israelites! The LORD is fighting for them against Egypt.”
-Exodus 14:21-25

We Know How to Do Crazy

2004: We buy a house and decide it would be fun to remodel it while planning for our wedding. We get married and subsequently enter into significant changes in our careers and schooling. I decide to chase a hurricane and make Joel pay for it. We decide we're not going get a dog for two years (y'know...cuz we wanted to be stable in our marriage and all). Two weeks later, we end up driving home from Michigan with a free dog we got at a garage sale.

2005: We have this crazy idea to go to Kenya to love on women and kids affected by HIV/AIDS. We decide to finish our basement...ourselves.

2006: We go to Kenya. It rocks us to the core. Joel gets deathly ill there. We return and say to ourselves "we're never going back." Naturally, we decide this while trying to complete our basement project, which by this time has taken about 10 years off of Joel's life.

2007: We return to Kenya.

2008: Hey! Wouldn't it be fun to write a Master's thesis and start a new job while co-founding a non-profit organization? And then backpack through Europe?! Yup! We return and Joel loses me to 75% work travel for the next year.

2009: I change roles at work and take on significantly more responsibility whilst we plan, educate, and eventually lead a team of 18 people to Kenya and back (and get them all good 'n' food poisoned just before we board a plane for home).

2010: We sell our first home (miraculously) and buy the one house that I kinda hated. We spend the entire summer gutting it and putting it back together again. We eat lots of Hubbard Ave. pies to console ourselves after months of sleeping in drywall dust. I threaten to leave Joel and take the dog with me until the house is finished.

2011: The house is still not finished (but I love it now!). We decide to return to Kenya on a whim. Just before we leave we deposit an application and a non-refundable check to an adoption agency. I go to the Philippines and Thailand with two weeks notice. We begin our adoption home study in September and are told we could have a baby by the end of the year. To which we laugh hysterically and reply "...like 2011?! Uhhhh, thanks, but no."

Today: A pregnant woman in Chicago is looking for a couple to adopt her baby. Her only stipulation is that the couple not currently have other children. Her social worker calls our social worker: "Know anybody that fits this birth mother's request?" He sees only one on his list...us. Despite our currently incomplete home study, we get the call. We laugh hysterically (again). We have a moment of calm and clarity and decide to go for it. Our portfolio photo-book (which serendipitously was delivered just yesterday) will be sent to Chicago tomorrow. The birth mother will have a few couples to choose from. If she chooses us, and if our meeting with her were to go well, we could be the proud parents of a little African-American girl. Oh yeah...she's due in 2-3 weeks.

"This is completely crazy...which makes it so perfect for us."
-Joel Hassenzahl, October 2nd, 2011

June 30th

Hello readers! Long time no "see". What a crazy and eventful summer it has been for the Hassenzahl's. I've been around the world and back...and even lived to tell about it! But not today. Today, I want to share with you a post I've been holding onto since June 30th. As you will see, the last paragraph reveals a bit of my angst about publishing this post. And ultimately I chose not to at that time. I'm not even completely sure I want to post it now, but I feel the need to let people in. To let people pray. And to let myself have this forum again for processing my thoughts. So without further ado, here are my words from June 30th, 2011...

Today is a very special day. First and foremost, today is my beautiful mother's birthday. Happy Birthday, mom! Today is also the day that will go down in Hassenzahl history as the day we sent in our adoption application. Yep, you heard me! The first round of i's are dotted and t's are crossed. A non-refundable check has been written. We are really doing this, people. Whoa. No wonder my heart has been palpitating all day long!

There's no telling what the future will bring. But today I revel in the feeling of progress, hope and anticipation...or is it heartburn? It's all a bit surreal to be honest. Of course, we still have to be accepted into the agency's program. So please pray that the social worker(s) assigned to us will look favorably upon our application (and overlook the crazy...and yes, I'm mostly talking about Joel here. Kidding!).

I do have to say, I was torn on whether to blog about this momentous day. For many couples, including us, the period from when you submit your application to when the home study is completed, is a lot like the first trimester of a pregnancy. At one point our intention was to not utter a word about the adoption until after the home study had been completed - when we knew it was safer to do so. In the end, we need and covet the prayers of friends and family in this time. Not to mention I'm just too dang excited to keep this to myself right now! That said, Joel and I would appreciate your discretion over the next several months as we wrestle with the home study. We ask that any questions or words of encouragement be reserved for private messages (which can include comments on this blog) and/or face-to-face conversations.

Stay tuned to this blog to find out what happens next in this exciting adventure of ours. We can't wait to see what God has in store...

...for in you the fatherless find compassion.
-Hosea 14:3

Orchestrated

You ever have one of those days where you are very quickly reminded that you are not in control? But in a good way? Where things happen swiftly and succinctly, and come together beautifully? Where people let you in on curious things happening behind the scenes? Things you had no idea were happening, but all of a sudden give a whole new meaning to what you did or said? Well today is one of those days.

I'm thankful. Because God, in His infinite wisdom, actually does know what He's doing. He's the conductor of a great orchestra. And even when His musicians aren't willing to play with the passion and dedication He desires, He still finds a way to make their noise meaningful. Why do I always need to be reminded of that?

God is doing great things, people. Even in our mundane and ordinary lives. He's softening the hearts of ardent atheists, while providing the means to reach the impoverished. He's forging new friendships and healing lonely hearts, while building unlikely families. He's speaking. And I hope we're all listening.

But just as it is written, “Things that no eye has seen, or ear heard, or mind imagined, are the things God has prepared for those who love him.” God has revealed these to us by the Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God.
-1 Corintians 2:9-10

Summing it Up

I came across a quote today that I just had to share. It was posted on a blog I follow, and completely sums up what I have been feeling for so long...

"There is an instinct in a woman to love most her own child - and an instinct to make any child who needs her love, her own."
-Robert Brault

Through the subtleties of our society and culture, most women are raised to desire a husband and a family. As little girls we play with dolls, we make believe, we watch Cinderella, we dream about our futures, we plan. But aside from the ways in which we're raised, many women desire these things on a very instinctual level. As humans, we're designed in God's image. We're designed for love. And as women, we're designed to bring forth life. It's instinct. It's nature. It's the way God created us, and it's ridiculously amazing when you think about it. It's just not a guarantee.

My instincts as a woman tell me to keep striving for pregnancy. That no child will be quite like my own. That nothing could compare to a little person that is half me and half my husband. But my instincts as a human, as an adopted daughter of God, tell me otherwise. And those are the instincts I hold tightly to these days.

"Do not be afraid, for I am with you;
I will bring your children from the east
and gather you from the west.
I will say to the north, ‘Give them up!’
and to the south, ‘Do not hold them back.’
Bring my sons from afar
and my daughters from the ends of the earth—
everyone who is called by my name,
whom I created for my glory,
whom I formed and made.”
-Isaiah 43:5-7

Grey Skies

It's a gloomy day in Madison. In fact, it's a gloomy day in the Midwest. Talking to friends in various locations around the country this morning, grey skies seem to be prevailing. What happened to Spring?

It's a gloomy day in my heart. An old school mate died in a motorcycle accident on Friday. His mother needed to be dragged, kicking and screaming, from his dead body after sitting with him for over three hours in the morgue. Last night I arrived home to my neighbor walking up our driveway to apologize for not responding to our dinner invitation. Her 16-year-old nephew committed suicide on Sunday evening. The funeral was yesterday. She was wrecked, overwhelmed, exhausted.

In times like these, it's hard not to think about the incapacitating sadness that happens everyday in our world. The trials that people must endure. How do you move forward when your child is suddenly gone? Without any warning? As I was brushing my teeth last night, I couldn't help but ponder what life without children would be like. No fear of losing them. No worry that they will turn on you, hate you, live a life that destroys you. I've seen these all happen. And to good parents. Really good parents, including my own. I can't help but wonder if perhaps we're better off childless?

In the end, I don't honestly believe this is true for us. Just today. Just when I am confronted with mothers burying their children. It's not fair. It's not right. And so I will keep these folks in my heart and pray for them the words of Psalm 71...

Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up. You will increase my honor and comfort me once more.
-Psalm 71:20-21

Signs

Happy Mother's Day to my Mom, my Grandma, and all the mothers before them. Without their love, dedication, and hard work, I would not be here today. I am both humbled and blessed to have been born into such a beautiful and strong line of women. Mom and Grandma, I hope you know just how much I love you two!

Thank you to those of you who showered me with encouragement this Mother's Day. Whether by text, card, email, Facebook, impromptu pedicure, or hope-inspiring gift, you flooded my day and weekend with love and support. In the midst of infertility's isolation, I felt remembered. Words can't even begin to describe how this lifted me up and sustained me through an oft bittersweet holiday. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

And thanks be to God for choosing today to unfold the beauty of our spring tulips. Only yesterday they were small buds, closed up like a tight fist. We couldn't believe how dramatically they had changed overnight. It was as if God, Himself, wanted to encourage me on Mother's Day. And perhaps remind me that like those tulips, situations can change at any moment. Often when we least expect them to. May this be a sign of brighter days to come on the journey towards motherhood...

For as [she] thinks in her heart, so is [she].
-Proverbs 23:7