Triggers

Over the weekend, a student at my school was involved in an accident. Wonderful paramedics were able to restart his heart, but it was later discovered that his brain was no longer alive. Today, his brave parents made the decision to take him off of life support.

This afternoon, our principal and counselor gathered the school staff to share the news. Teachers cried together and mourned a precious life cut short.

As the reality of the news set in, I began to cry uncontrollably.

I grieve with the parents whose arms are empty and hearts are broken. I grieve with the brothers and sisters; they must feel like a part of them is missing. I grieve with the friends and teachers who look at an empty chair and remember the tiny boy who should be there.

As I sat there sniffling, holding my breath to avoid drawing attention, I thought, "this must be what a trigger is."

In thinking about this little boy, I could only see my little girl. I closed my eyes to hide tears, and Wren's sweet smile danced in my memory.

All my heartbreak and sadness and emptiness came flooding back.

No parent should lose their child. Hearts are not made to be broken like that.

Trying to find the words to explain is futile. Words don't exist for that pain.



Tonight my thoughts and prayers are with the family of a child who now dances with Jesus, with Wren.

Love deep and love hard. This world is full of broken hearts and broken people.

Love,
Elizabeth

My Journey to You | Reece's Rainbow

I always knew I wanted to adopt.

I started seriously looking into that process a few years ago. That's how I stumbled upon Reece's Rainbow. I would stare for hours at face after face and wish so hard that every face soon would see her mama.

I hurt for those forgotten ones.

But special needs adoption wasn't for me.

I adored *those* families who could ransom broken and discarded children. I knew they were seeking after God's own heart.

But special needs adoption wasn't for me.

I witnessed beautiful stories of children finding mamas and papas and brothers and sisters. They changed almost instantly.

That's what happens when you have hope.

But, still, special needs adoption wasn't for me.

Even as I cried tears of pain and joy with families I only knew through a screen, I didn't understand. I started looking into adoption planning for a little girl. A little girl with no special needs, and no older than two.

But then, special needs adoption smacked me in the face. I saw my child. I saw Wren and I was changed. She wasn't just some kid around the world. She was mine. I felt her deep in my soul.

She changed me.



One day, a few weeks before Wren passed away, I noticed on Reece's Rainbow a little boy I had never seen before. Something about him caught my eye. He lives in Wren's country. He has Down syndrome, just like Wren.

In some deep down way, I felt connected to him, too.

For a brief minute I though about adding him to my adoption. But Wren's needs were too intense and I only have two bedrooms and, even if it was possible, I couldn't delay things for Wren.

So I thought, sweet boy, if you are still waiting in a year or so, I'll come back for you. (But please don't let him still be waiting in a year!)



It was like I somehow caught a little glimpse of what the future held.

Things didn't work out the way I thought they would, but now, my sweet son, I'm coming for you.

Your sister paved the way. And now, my son, your mama is coming.

You have waited nine years. But still, you giggle. You learned to walk last year. I could tell how proud that makes you in the way your eyes shine.

You trust your nannies. You grab their hands and look up into their faces expectantly.

I can't wait until the day you grab my hand like that. I promise I will be there to hold you steady.



I started this journey hoping for a young, typical little girl. And now a nine year old boy with Down syndrome holds my heart.

It's funny these stories God writes.

Beauty From Ashes | Reece's Rainbow

When Wren went to Jesus, my heart shattered. It felt like it could never hold love, because the love would just run out of all the brokenness.

But at the same time, I knew in my bones this was not the end.



My Wren died because someone saw an imperfect child, unworthy of love or care. As much as it hurts to type those words, they were her truth. And not only Wren's truth.

Thousands and thousands of children all over the world live with this as their truth. Unworthy. Unlovable. Unteachable. Unwanted.

This is their truth every day, every moment. As they just exist. Breathing, but not living.

But, my friends, this truth is not God's truth.

And it is not my truth.

Thousands of perfect, worthy children wait for a mama to speak their truth into existence. Their truth of love and joy and worth and value.

Wren taught me this. And now, because of Wren, I get to share these truths with a precious soul - Wren's big brother. Not by blood, but by love, a tiny girl and a precious boy become sister and brother. Sister in heaven, brother waiting around the world.

Oh, I cannot wait to introduce you to him.

Turns out my shattered heart can hold love after all. It holds a fierce and bold love for my daughter and my son.

Love,
Elizabeth

Eight Weeks

Wren died eight weeks ago.

I have had eight weeks to process her death and try to make some sense of it. Eight weeks to think of the loneliness. Eight weeks to miss my daughter.

I am angry. I am sad. I grieve and I mourn and I am comforted by the vision of her dancing and laughing with Jesus.

Eight weeks ago, she was made whole and my heart shattered.

In the midst of my pain, light shines through. I have learned more about hope and love than ever before.

My sweet friend and mentor, Lauren, recently walked the halls of the orphanage where Wren lived and died. She was there to rescue her daughter who was barely living - nine pounds at seven years old.

In the midst of gaining a precious daughter, Lauren took the time to search out my daughter and honor her short, beautiful life.

Each time I try to put my gratitude and feelings into words, they fail me.

So here are hers.

Wren's life mattered.

Goodbye For Now, My World Changer

On Monday, November 9, I got a phone call that changed my life.

My precious daughter was no longer alive on earth, but fully alive in the arms of Jesus. She was experiencing love and laughter and joy for the first time.

These past 24 hours have been a messy blur of tears, but through the tears, so much light shines.

People from all over the world have taken the time to read my daughter's story and tell me of the impact her short life had on theirs. People have prayed for me and my family. People have cried big, ugly tears with me.

I spoke on facebook with a stranger for over an hour today about adoption and these precious children who deserve families. This conversation would have never happened without my daughter.

Thousands of people have seen these pictures of a tiny, broken girl now made whole. Thousands of people know more about the injustices of this world because of my tiny girl - my world changer.

Now that you have seen, you are responsible. Don't let the ripples of her short life stop. Be love.

Though my heart is broken that I will never hold my sweet girl in my arms in this life, I am eternally grateful for her. I believe she did her job; she heard the words, "well done, my good and faithful daughter." I am so proud to call her mine, even from afar.

I do not for one second regret saying yes. 

There are two families near and dear to my heart - the Hortons and the Collicotts. They are bringing home precious, tiny ones from the same place where my daughter died. If you feel called to action, I would urge you to consider donating to and praying for their adoptions with me.

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.
James 1:27

I love you, baby girl.

Wren Marieva, Beloved Daughter

Greater Things - Part 2 | Reece's Rainbow

Greater things have yet to come.

For several months, I prayed those words and waited expectantly. It didn't feel right to think that anything could be "greater" than my little girl who was not to be mine.

But still I prayed.

I looked into adopting from several other countries. I looked (again) into foster care. I stopped looking altogether.

Then one day, I noticed a tiny little girl who was newly listed on Reece's Rainbow, an advocacy website for orphans with special needs.

Her tiny face stared at me through my phone screen. My first though was, "Her mama needs to find her FAST." I said a little prayer for her, and continued on in my day.

Later, as people began asking about her and praying for her family to find her, I again thought, "Lord, send her family SOON."

I couldn't stop thinking about the tiny girl in the pink onesie. I couldn't stop thinking about the five years of neglect. Five years without a mama and goodnight kisses. Five years of silent pain.

And then, while still praying for her family to come soon, I emailed her agency. I heard back from a wonderful lady named Judy. Judy told me that just a couple of hours before my email, they had received new pictures and videos of this little girl. She sent them to me, along with her medical records, and I prayed some more.

Where is her family?

The next day, a large grant was given for this tiny girl to find her family.

I continued to pray. I know hundreds of others prayed too.

And then, I knew.

Greater things have yet to come.

This tiny girl in the pink onesie was waiting for me, and I for her.

God is good.


Soon, I will write more about my tiny little Heavenleigh (her Reece's Rainbow name) and the process of adopting her. I am further along than I was able to get with Uganda, and I feel confident that things will move smoothly. Please pray for Heavenleigh. She is literally fighting to stay alive as I work to get to her. She has made it for five years; I believe she can make it a few more months.

Love,
Elizabeth