Amy Medina

Creepies

By Amy Medina

On April 27, 2012

In Other

These days, this is my favorite household product:

Not only does it kill these, which are our constant companions almost every day of the year,

But it also kills these, which like to jump out of the kitchen cabinets at me.

And most recently, it’s very useful for killing these:

Yes, they are definitely as bad as they look.

And the night before last, Sam woke me up at 4 in the morning because one had just stung her in her bed.

*shiver*

*double shiver*

You got that right.

It stung her through her shirt, so it wasn’t worse than a bee sting. But it was in her bed! I got my can of Doom and we searched the room for 20 minutes but couldn’t find it, so finally she just slept the rest of the night in my room. Twice I’ve found them in my kids’ beds….thankfully the kids weren’t in them at the time.

And this morning, there was one under Grace’s backpack.

And that’s why Doom is my favorite product.

For now and all eternity.

(Pictures of bugs are not to scale. Mosquitoes are, well, mosquito-sized. Cockroaches are two inches long, and centipedes are 4-5 inches long. *shiver*)

Grace Abounding

By Amy Medina

On April 25, 2012

In Adoption

There was a time in my life when the first thing I did every
morning was take my temperature.

Every month, I hoped.
And every month, I cried.

The worst months were the ones when I was a couple of days
late. The waiting was torture, and I let
my imagination get completely out of control.
What would my parents’ faces look like when we told them the good
news? Would it be a girl or a boy? What would we name her?

And then, the next day, only to be crushed again.

I went through dozens of pregnancy tests. Dozens.
It’s a good thing I could find them at the 99Cent store.

And then God brought us
Grace, and I was thrilled because brown babies were always a part of our
plan. The part of me that craved being a Mommy was filled up to the brim.

But every month, I still hoped.

Then Josiah came, and I was getting older, and I remember
asking Gil one day, “Will you have regrets if I never get pregnant and we never
did any procedure to help it along?” And
he thought about it a while and came back with a definitive No.

And I knew by then that No was my answer too. But I knew I needed to ask it of myself,
because we live in a country where “getting help” is not a possibility, yet I
did not want to live with regret.

But I realized that God’s grace had filled me up. And that I didn’t really pay attention to
what happened each month any more.

Then my addiction started.
Instead of craving a child from my womb, all I wanted was more brown babies: the ones who were helpless and hopeless and
desperately needed a Mommy.

And after Lily came, and we started to think about James and
then about bringing a baby into our family from another country, I suddenly
realized something.

I was afraid of getting pregnant.

Afraid because I thought it could mess up our plans for
bringing home another orphan. And
suddenly, I was facing every month with relief at not being pregnant, instead of disappointment.

And that, right there, my friends, is the abounding Grace of
God.

That He could take my pain, and my shame that started so
many years ago, and turn it around so completely and entirely and fully—that
can only be the Grace of God.

Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the
desires of your heart.

Or rather, He will change your desires and make them
His.

He is the God of redemption.

He makes beauty from ashes.

He brings over-abundant joy from pain.

And I am in awe.

(Just to clarify—I do know it could still happen to me. It’s been 8 years of “not preventing” and I
am now 35, so I’m guessing it won’t—but I know God does crazy things. And if He does, well, of course, we will
rejoice. But that’s really not the
point.)

Left Behind

By Amy Medina

On April 24, 2012

In Other

Early this morning, I put my Big Guy and my Little Guy into a taxi before the sun came up and sent them off to the airport.

And now they are in Kenya at a conference that I was looking forward to…for years, actually. Our mission’s All-Africa Conference that happens only once every two years, when all the missionaries from all over Africa come and meet together. And national pastors come too–strong men of God with incredible faith and amazing stories. And we get excellent teaching and music and encouragement and prayer.

Deep conversations with like-minded friends. Strategic planning for the future. Excitement at what God is doing all over Africa.

And they’re at Brackenhurst. One of those lush, green, cold, mountainous conference centers with great food that I don’t have to cook, and a kids’ program, and no sweating. I’ve been looking forward to going back since 2007.

But here I sit, in my bedroom. Sweating. And I cooked my own dinner.

It’s all because of this little sweetie.

Lily’s adoption has yet to be finalized. And we can’t get her a passport until then, which means she can’t leave the country. Which means I can’t leave the country.

I suppose it’s not unheard of to let a three-year-old stay with friends for five days. But not when the particular three-year-old has only been in the family for 8 months. The bonds that hold us are still quite fragile. And I’m not willing to take that risk.

My wonderfully sweet husband offered to let me go instead of him, back when we realized that this would happen. He knew how much I wanted to go to this conference. But for a number of reasons, we knew it would be best for him to go.

I got over my pity-party a while ago, so I’m not feeling too terribly sorry for myself tonight. Because you know what? Lily is totally worth it. Not for one moment would I change my mind about anything that led up to this.

And so it’s just us girls in the house this week: Grace, Lily, Sam, and me. Even the dogs are girls, including the one we are dog-sitting for another friend who went to Kenya. No stinky boys allowed. (Sigh….except I’m going to miss those stinky boys an awful lot.)