Well, we finally have all three referrences sent and filed away. Our referrences were asked to send them straight to the adoption agency and I asked for a copy for us (not only for our records and baby book, but also to send to the agency in case they misplaced the originals!). I must say we have the most amazing friends in the world. I have read two of them so far and have cried while reading both of them. It’s such an honor to have friends like those! I can’t believe our blessings!

So this means we are just waiting for our physicals to get done! Dailah’s and mine are tomorrow but I’m also hoping Zachary can squeeze his in too. Trysten needs his full preschool one so that is scheduled for Friday. After that, we just have to take a family picture and then send it along! My goal is to have the application mailed by Monday. I’m just too excited!

On Saturday we met with my sister-in-law, Leslie’s aunt, Joan. Joan adopted from Ethiopia about four years ago. Stephen is such a beautiful boy! He was adopted around the age of 2 and is now six. It was awesome to hear Joan’s experience and see Stephen and Trysten playing. Gave a glimpse of a potential near future for us! I can’t get over how wonderful all of Leslie’s family is. We took a break from adoption talk and Joan, being the gracious host she is says, “Leslie told me you like pie Tesi, would you like a piece.” And proceeded to cut into a freshly baked pie that tasted a bit like heaven with crust. So with that said, I’m looking forward to meeting more and more people who have adopted before us, especially if they are as nice as Joan (and wouldn’t hurt if they were good bakers too!)

A lot going on in our lives anyway! Tomorrow is Zach’s last day at the Scouts. He’s really going to miss working with the people there. He starts at camp on Thursday already! Our house at camp is under construction. Jerry, our contractor, is a true blessing in himself. Can’t get over our good fortune having him work on it! Then found out this morning the reason for my abdomen pain is because my gall bladder is not working! This means surgery for me on the 23rd. On top of that, selling our house! WOW….what a transitional time for us!

Zach had to work last night so I was with the kiddos by myself. I truly can’t remember the last time I went to bed and didn’t reflect on my life and want to pinch myself. I have the most amazing husband in the entire world. He is so loving, kind, hilarious, beautiful beyond belief and such a fantastic daddy. Then my two kids. Where do I begin? Thinking about the future…picturing us adding to our family. Whatever our new child/ren bring us, I know we will be blessed to have them. This adoption is not about giving a child a loving home in which he/she deserves (though I certainly hope that is one result). It’s about expanding our blessings too. God is good!

Anyway, thanks for checking in. Hopefully next post will be the announcement that we have sent in our application and are awaiting homestudy dates! Love to all.

For those of you wanting to know what our agency’s care center looks like (or pictures of Ethiopia) below is a link from one of my forum friends. She traveled to pick up her little one and made the pictures available for us all. It was awhile ago and they’ve since built a new lodging house for when we travel to pick up our newest Klipsch but if you’re bored and want to see some pretty amazing pictures and adorable Ethiopian kids….this place is for you!

http://www.kodakgallery.com/remde/main/ethiopia_trip

We’re still just waiting on our references to finish their letters and our physicals to be completely done. I’m optimistically thinking we’ll have the application sent in by May 10th. Keep your fingers crossed!

So one of the main questions we get about adoption is, “isn’t that expensive”? I find this so fascinating because there are very few things in this life that people feel free enough to ask that question. We tend to view anything dealing with money/financials as extremely personal, something to keep close to the chest. People don’t ask it for other things that might be expensive AND dangerous, thus needing to point out major drawbacks of the deal (i.e. isn’t doing crack expensive?) Adoption, in short, is VERY expensive. In fact, I’m sure it’s one of the main reasons that deter people from taking the big leap and actually adopting, which is ultimately really depressing.

It comes down to a few things for Zach and myself. One, we truly feel led by God (as noticed in previous post) and thus believe where He is leading, He will provide. Now, even though we believe this, it doesn’t mean we’re just going to sit by, fill out the paperwork and expect a check to literally drop out of the sky. We know we have to work hard and come up with alternative ways of making that money appear. It is amazing though, because if there was one thing that has been a common thread throughout my and Zach’s marriage, it has been that He has provided. Not even necessarily financially, those most definitely that way too. Thus, even though we are feeling quite nervous and stressed about the financial aspects of adoption, we truly hope we will be able to see God’s love in abundance continue to happen.

Secondly, it occurred to me when Zach and I were talking about it all once, that we didn’t think twice about buying new cars or buying our new homes. I mean, we went out, did all the research, etc, but we ended up buying those things without too much thought (looking back perhaps it would have been wise to put in a bit more reflection). So the fact that we could buy something that is really so trivial but would possibly NOT adopt for that same reason seemed silly to us. Truth: we could buy a fairly nice, new vehicle with what we’re going to pay for the adoption. Truth: we are getting a CHILD who was left orphaned by things out of his/her control by that same amount of money. The expense, as noticed, seems well worth it!

Third, I truly believe so many people in this world fall victim to wanting to live in the world of riches (Zach and I have felt this as well). You want the big house, the two nice cars, great jobs, dinners out, extravagant vacations, etc. Now, I’m not saying those who all of that are heathens by any means, I’m merely saying Zach and I have come to find out the hard way that that life is not going to make you happy in and of itself. A life outside of worldly possessions and inside a life of God, family and friends is an altogether better, more comfy place to be. We KNOW how hard it’s going to be financially before/during/after the adoption but we also know our family is ready to take on that “burden” if it means giving a child a warm and loving home.

So with all that said, we have ideas on how exactly we’re going to do it. I have a feeling it will test our creativity like it hasn’t been tested in a long time! We know for sure once we sell our house, I’ll stay working at Estes for a while and save my entire salary and use it towards the adoption. I’m also interested in getting anyone and everyone who might want to come, to come out to Camp once we live out there and celebrate a traditional Ethiopian meal with us. I also really want to offer quilt blocks to anyone who might be interested in hopes that we would get enough takers that my fabulous mother-in-law could quilt it all together so we can send it on to our child as soon as we know who it is!

These are just a few ideas. We’ve heard some great ones through the awesome place that is the online forum for our adoption agency. It’s just amazing how He provides. By an unbelievably generous gift from a certain couple of our family members, we will be able to take the next step in the adoption paperwork. Because God is leading us, He too led them and I can’t thank either of them enough. What a beautiful, beautiful love! Thanks for checking in.

So after my last blog I’ve gotten such overwhelmingly positive feedback I must make a public statement showing my gratitude. So thank you, to everyone, who has shown such awesome support for our new journey! With that great response, came a lot of questions about the adoption process so I thought this blog I could devote to sharing with you the general process. As always, I’ll keep you up to date with where we are!

As said in the last blog, we have officially registered with our agency, CHSFS. Because we live in Iowa, they are able to be both our local agency and our international agency. I chose this because there would be a seamless handoff from one to the other and will hopefully minimize any confusions, etc. So once our registration was accepted, they sent us our official application packet. This packet is about 30 pages long and includes mostly questions about us. It also has many places for our signatures so they can retrieve all of our personal and public records. On top of that, we need physicals from our physician for all and three personal references. Our references, Dan and Becky Asleson, Greg and Emily Ball and Cheryl Goodwin, are writing what I’m sure are beautiful letters on why we would be good parents to another child/more children. So once all of that is completed, we send it in, with our first payment. (Note: we are now just waiting for all of our physicals and references and then we’ll be done)

After our application is accepted, we will go through an adoption course. This course is based out of St. Paul but as I understand we’ll be able to take it online as well. Anyway, they will go over such topics as transracial and transcultural adoption, adopting siblings, other siblings in the house, etc. After this course, we will have homework that will become part of our homestudy.

After the course, we enter into our homestudy (or adoption study). This includes 2-3 visits with a social worker. One of which will be in her office in Cedar Rapids and at least one other will be in our home. The basic reason for these is to get an in-depth look at our childhood, marriage, parenting skills, etc. The one in our house will be so she can look at all the childproofing measures we’ve taken, etc. At the end of the homestudy, the social worker will write a recommendation as to how good we will be as well as how many children we are qualified to take at that point. This does not mean how many we will be given, but she will give the max number we are allowed to ask for. (Note: we have to wait for our homestudy until we are in the new camp house).

While the homestudy is taking place, we can begin to get some of our paperwork ready for what is called the dossier. The dossier is a HUGE packet of information that will eventually be translated and sent to Ethiopia. So we will be busy getting fingerprinted and getting lots of government paperwork signed and translated. Apparently this is a long and tedious process but can take anywhere from a couple days to a couple months depending on how hard you want to work. (For those who know me, you know there is a good chance I’ll be working to get the record time in dossier submission). J After the dossier paperwork is in working order and we have an approved homestudy, we send it on to our agency that approves it and sends it on to Ethiopia. Once Ethiopia officially accepts it, we are officially waiting for a referral.

A referral is basically at least one picture and all the background information possible on your child. They tell you to expect anywhere from 4-9 months for a referral. Because at this time we are thinking of a toddler in between Trysten and Dailah or a young sibling group, it appears referrals come a bit faster as those are the ones who are least likely to be requested. Once our referral comes in, we have one week to consult with our doctor as well as a doctor who specializes in international adoption to make sure that the health history looks great. We can accept or decline the referral anytime within that week.

Once the referral is accepted, we are officially waiting for a travel date which they say takes anywhere from 8-12 weeks. What is going on in the meantime is basically all of our paperwork going through the Ethiopian courts again, but this time referring to this particular child.

Once we get our travel date, we’re off! We stay in Ethiopia for about a week. During that time, we are allowed to either stay in a hotel or in the care center’s lodging (which we will do because it’s free and from what we’ve heard/seen, beautiful!) Our child will be ours as soon as we hit the soil so we can keep them in our room with us or gradually work into bringing them to stay with us over the week (which they recommend with toddlers). At some point in that week, we are invited to travel south to meet any birth relatives of our child. This may include one or both of the parents but more than likely it is the grandparents, aunt and uncles, etc. It will also include a going away party at the care center for our little one the last night we’re there.

Once home, the child is ours in the States as well, we just have to sign an official paper for Iowa once we get here!

So we’re really excited. I’m having problems cooperating with the slow nature of the process and being so reliant on others. I tend to appreciate control with these kinds of matters! Anyway, I’ll let you know once we send in our application since that will be the next step. We appreciate all of your thoughts and prayers throughout this! Thanks for checking in.

So it’s “semi”-official. Zach, myself, Trysten and Dailah have decided to follow God’s lead and adopt. I turned in the registration today to what appears to be a wonderful adoption agency (AA) called Children’s Home Society and Family Services (CHSFS). So I am devoting this blog to share with you why we (myself specifically) chose this route of parenting, though I truly believe it is a personal decision, I am happy to share the news and offer our very personal reasoning.

About Zach and my third date we were in the local bookstore when we talked about parenting. At this point we were very smitten with each other so it was more a “feeling out” conversation, but there were hints that we were each looking at the other as a possible father/mother to our future children. When the topic came up I specifically remember telling him I’ve always felt a heart for adoption. Imagine my surprise when he said he too felt like it was something he wanted to look into, whether or not he had biological children.

Fast forward to May 30th, 2005. As noted in previous blogs, I was 10 weeks pregnant with what would be our second child. That night in the hospital, alone, an angel visited me. Though I don’t typically buy into those sorts of things, or rather, I didn’t until then, I saw her (I say “her”, though I can’t tell if that’s because she was anatomically a girl or more like she felt like I was familiar with her spirit, familiar in the very girl sense of the word). Anyway, when I asked her if she was taking my baby, she said “yes”. When I asked her (again, I don’t remember actually asking her, we were just looking at each other and having a very real conversation without moving our lips) if she was there to take me, she said “ not yet”. It’s taken me a few years (could it really have been that long) of playing that scene out over and over again. Of picturing her face and the calmness she created by being there. But after years of reflecting and searching my very own definition of spirituality, I’ve come to realize she didn’t take me with her because God is not done using me yet.

Which leads me to our present circumstance. For the last two years I too have fought with God. I’ve lost sight of Him, ignored the things He’s called me to do sometimes, and listened whole-heartedly other times. He’s brought my family into the most amazing life presently. After we had Dailah, both Zach and I said we were already ready for another child. Even after saying that, a huge part of me knew I meant something entirely different than what most people think of when I say, “having another child”. See, I’ve always been a very empathetic person. If I see a person crying on the street, it’s typically a matter of minutes until my tear ducts are poring over. If I see a child hurting, or read about it in the newspaper, I don’t just “feel bad” for them. I literally FEEL bad. I put myself there. I am the one being beaten, raped, what have you and want to do anything in my power to take that hurt from a stranger I will undoubtedly never know. So all of this makes sense why God led me to a specific passage in the Bible repeatedly over the last two years since we’ve seriously considered adopting. “Lord, you know the hopes of the helpless. Surely you will listen to their cries and comfort them. You bring justice to the orphans and the oppressed, so people can no longer terrify them.” (Ps 10.17-18) And perhaps even more specifically, “And that’s the way it was with us before Christ came. We were slaves (orphans) to the spiritual powers of the world. But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, subject to the law. God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves (orphans) to the law, so that he could ADOPT us as his very own children. And because you Gentiles have become his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, and now you can call God your dear Father. Now you are no longer a slave (orphan) but God’s own child. And since you are his child, everything he has belongs to you.” (Gal 4 3-7).

Because of these specific Bible passages (and many more, ask me and I’ll point you to at least 50) I believe those who have a heart for adoption are being called to do so. Throughout the Bible, God has a special place for orphans, so too have I. Throughout the last months; I have felt God calling me (sometimes forcing me) to pursue adoption even more wholeheartedly. To not let my own hesitancies stand in the way of what He knows is my path, why He kept me when He took my baby. This, I believe is one of those reasons.

Those of you who know us, know that Zach and I could easily have 20 children and not think a thing about it. We’ve been blessed in life to have two amazing children. I’ve been blessed to carry them in my own physical womb and feel their first kicks, watch them as they breastfeed and turn into their own personalities. Just as God placed them in my womb, He too has placed a child in the womb of my heart. I feel this child there as sure as I did Trysten and Dailah. And it brings many of the same emotions. Excitement, anticipation, reluctance, fear, happiness, etc. But oh the joy! The joy of following what has been asked of me and adopting a child just as God has adopted us. If only I can give the child half the life God has given me, I have done my job.

After much prayer, research, and consideration we have decided to adopt internationally from Ethiopia. The reasons for which are too numerous to name but here are a few reasons.
—There are 4.5 MILLION orphans in Africa. Most of these children were left orphaned because their parents have died of the AIDS epidemic, war or famine. These kids have felt loved the entire time they resided in their mommy’s belly, and it is BECAUSE they love these children that the mom’s (or other related person should their parents have died) hand over their children…to give them a better life.
–This adoption program is the most efficiently ran program we have encountered. This country truly loves and cares for these babies and knows the best way to get them the love and care they need is to get them to families who will do that; as quickly and painlessly as possible.
–I truly believe God has bound my heart to Ethiopia. Leslie’s aunt has adopted a very wonderful little boy from there. Every time I see anything about Africa, I get such a personal attachment to it. As if I know the country already.
–This particular orphanage is run by believers as well. Though this wasn’t a huge determining factor, it makes me believe this kids are being cared for with the love and tenderness of a Christian family.

Those are just a few reasons, I could go on. But I want to get to heaven and be able to say, “God, I treated your creation with the love and affection I feel towards you, our Creator.” I take to heart James 1:27, “Religion that God the Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress to keep them from being polluted by the world.”

I wanted to share with you, our family, friends, fellow adoptive parents, anyone in cyberspace, our latest great news. That hopefully one day in the near future we will bring home the newest Klipsch. Whom I’m sure will share our love of life, stories, food, laughter, hugs, kisses and seeing God in the every day. Thanks so much for your continued prayers, blessings and positive thoughts. We hope to be able to count on them in the very near future. I will leave you with the passage that plaques my thoughts whenever I doubt this decision. James 4:17, “Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins.” Love to all! Zach, Tesi, Trysten, Dailah and Stotle (he agrees with all of the above too) Klipsch

8 months, 22 days and 12 hours ago I was made a mommy for the second time. Dailah Leagh was officially born, early but beautiful as anything. It took me awhile to get past the excitement of pink, adorable outfits to get ready to submit my first blog since she came to us. But alas, here I am. In an ode to my youngest, I must admit I am happier than I’ve ever been because of the life God has given me.

So I was motivated to write a blog this morning because last night was my night with Dailah. What that generally means is should she wake up in the middle of the night, it is my turn to go give her a pacifier or what have you. This also means I get to “sleep in” until Trysten/Dailah wake up. Because my husband is an amazing, devoted, present father, we share these duties equally. Well last night Miss Dailah (or “my b-b-baby girl” as Trysten and I call her) decided to wake up and cry for a good portion of an hour until I finally gave in and gave her a bottle. It was no big deal really, but I was still frustrated seeings after the weekend we had I needed all the sleep I could muster.

And then….I woke up to her coos and giggles. Walked into her room and saw her big smile. Her good morning consisted of a laugh, a smile and kicking her feet and hands in a wave everyone else should try emulating. I tell you, just when I think my kids couldn’t upset me more they go and do that. They smile, or run over and say I love you. They pucker their faces or tell me they want to marry me. So I was thinking of all of my life’s blessings when I went to the TV today to see the Virginia Tech nightmare. At least 31 students dead, another 30 injured from a guy who decided to take out his anger, frustration, whatever, on a bunch of innocent children. These same children (as well as the gunmen, one would assume) once woke up the way my innocent Dailah did. With a smile and a laugh for whoever found them first. To think their young lives were cut short because of something like this pains my innermost being.

My friend, Kathryn, just asked me if I ever think about how depressing it is to bring kids into a world that is capable of so much violence, and ugliness. So much hatred and oppression. I told her of course I think about it. But I also rely so heavily on my faith that if something that horrific was to happen, I know my kids would be with their Creator. In a place where there are no guns, no wayward teenagers or misled human bombs. I know in the midst of it all, once having lost my kids, there would be little comfort in that fact. But when it came time for me to leave this earth, seeing my kids in all their glory, living with our God, well, it would be a mighty beautiful thing.

Besides, I also know that despite the overwhelming sense of ugliness this world has to offer. Despite how often my heart breaks at the tragedies against children of all races, histories, nationalities….I know we were created by the One who knows us better than anyone else. I also know that in the midst of the ugliness, He creates goodness. Some delights so profound you can’t help but witness Him here on earth. Today, for me, it was my little girl’s smile, my little boy’s morning hug and the kiss from my husband.

In the midst of all this suffering, our only choice is to find the beautiful in the every day and to find the hope in the One who created it.

I miss my little man. When my mom had originally said she wanted to take my 3-½ yr old for a week every summer (she’s a high school counselor and gets most of summer off) I thought it sounded like a great idea. This year especially I was looking forward to it so that my husband and I could get some much needed couple time before we become a family of four.

Sunday was great, we only made one comment on how we are usually entertained by him before bed and we’re going to have to come up with something else for the next week. By Monday night we had figured it out and were having fun. I, of course, called at least twice a day to say good morning and good night but Trysten was obviously having too much fun because for the most part he refused to talk to me.

Wednesday night was what we had envisioned the week to look like; we went to a farewell party for Zach’s boss and then went to a bar with two other couples and a singleton. It was admittedly a lot of fun but I was saddened while driving home when I realized I wouldn’t get to look in on a blissfully sleeping little boy when I arrived back home.

I called him today (Thursday) more than a couple times and he’s had a lot to say each time. I think it’s safe to say we are officially missing each other immensely and I’m not only counting the days now but also the hours. It’s not that I don’t love the alone time with my husband; in fact, when we’re hanging out together it makes it incredibly easier to survive without my son. However, it’s times away from the both of them that I reflect on just what I miss about the boy.

In the morning the only thing waking me up now is a kicking baby who wants fed, I no longer hear the pounding on the door of my Trysten Zachary. I miss his first smile when I come in to get him and the hug he so willingly shares when I’m too tired to move. I miss his reenactments of Power Rangers when I open the door after taking a shower and I miss the way he plays with his hair while he drinks his first morning’s glass of apple juice. I miss his giggle when I let the puppies in and the way he yells, “No, Stotle!” whenever our obese lab tries to sneak a few Lucky Charms. The “Bye mommy, have a good day, I wuv you,” is considerably better than the silence I leave before work without Trysten.

I drive by his daycare now and resist the very powerful urge to pull in and see if some other kid will come running to me the way Trysten does; arms stretched out ready for a hug while he runs the 40 paces to me. I miss hearing every detail about his day and trying to decide which ones were just figments of his miraculous imagination and which ones are really part of his every day life. Getting home and having him help me water the flowers; sitting on the counter while I cook; negotiating every bite for dinner; twirling his hair while drinking his milk. “Two more minutes mommy,” as he bats his long eyelashes knowing full well I’ve never been able to resist him or his daddy when they do that.

But I really miss bedtime; I really, really miss bedtime. Giving him a bath and watching his whole body prune-icize. The way he delights in the water and the bubbles and the toys is sheer joy to watch. Getting him out and snuggling with him in his towel. The smell of his lotion makes me remember him as a baby; I catch my self sneaking sniffs periodically throughout the rest of the night. Lying down with him in his bed as we read Harry Potter (okay, I read and he lays on my belly pretending to listen). Hearing his voice as he prays to His maker to watch over him, his baby, his mommy and daddy and his poopers (puppies). And then when he turns to me and plays with my hair. He giggles when it goes in my eyes and will stay there playing with it as long as I let him. Admittedly it’s hard to turn away so bedtime can last quite long when I’m feeling like I need the extra attention. But then to turn around as I walk out of his room and hear, “I wuv you mommy!” as he turns in bed and pulls the covers under his chin. I even miss the devious tricks plays by calling us up after that to go to the bathroom or wipe his nose.

I realize it’s a blessing to have parents (and sister) who want to take my son for a week and spoil him beyond belief. It’s good for them both to see each other so much. It’s even good for Zach and I to remind us of why we first fell in love and learn to appreciate that and hold on to that throughout the rest of the year. But I do miss my little man and I can’t help but be a bit jealous of my family who has seen him every day this week.

So pray for my state of mind for the next fifty hours of my life. And pray that I might remember how much I even miss when he calls me into the bathroom to help him wipe his butt upon his return.

I have a fear, a fear I haven’t admitted to a lot of people, but a huge fear nonetheless. I fear that I will die without any warning or notice and without time to tell the people I love how I feel about them. Perhaps it’s irrational, perhaps in another lifetime I was left by a loved one without knowing how they felt. I do know there are a few examples from this lifetime in which people have passed without me ever telling them how I feel.

My ex-boyfriend’s dad died of a heart attack my freshman year of college. After dating the boy for the better part of 3 years, Jon had become my second dad and I loved him very dearly. He was smart, loving, hilarious and full of energy. I have a vivid mental picture from one of my high school basketball games (when I wasn’t even dating his son) of him in the front row yelling, “Go Tesi” at the top of his lungs and then standing and clapping whenever I didn’t screw up. I remember his favorite song was Faith Hill’s “This Kiss” and he held off smoking in the garage whenever I was around because it made my eyes turn red. At his funeral one of their best family friends came up to me and said, “Jon always said he thought of you as his daughter and if he could’ve chosen one it would’ve been you.” (He had two sons, no daughters). Though her words gave me comfort, I prayed so intensely that God was on the other side telling Jon, “She always said if she were to have a second dad, she would’ve wanted it to be you.” I never told him, we got along so well I comfort myself in believing he just had to have known how much I loved him and still think about him all the time.

My senior year of college I called my mom’s office (she was one of my high school’s counselors). The secretary then told me she was in another woman’s office comforting her because her son had just died in a car accident. It just so happened I graduated with her son and considered him a good guy, a friend. I broke down and decided it best not to attend classes that day. Matt was the guy in high school who was a friend of everybody. My “position” in high school was an interesting one but Matt never cared much about that and always showed me the greatest amount of support and respect even when people from his “group” disagreed. He not only accepted my stance against partaking in things he and his friends did, he respected it and told me so on more than one occasion. The day before he died he and some friends were in Iowa City and they stopped by my house. He got to meet my son for the first time and we were able to “catch up” in the twenty or so minutes they hung around. I walked in the house and lamented on how great of a guy he had always been. Unfortunately the lamenting stayed only between my husband and myself, because he was taken from this world not 12 hours later.

So this morning I woke up early and got ready before Trysten woke up so that we could spend some extra quality time before we went to work and daycare. Sure enough, we had a lot of fun. His favorite game is to say something like, “I really like this cereal, but you know what I like more than this cereal?” He waits for me to ask, “What?” And with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, he claims, “You”. So we played this adorable game the good portion of the morning and when it was time for me to head off to work I gave him a hug and he told me to “share good with my friends” and sent me off. As I was maneuvering (everything is a maneuver when you’re 7 months pregnant, in a skirt, trying to get into a Honda Civic) into the car Zach yells at me, “Tesi wait.” Trysten came out, obviously crying. He came up to me and said, “I sad cuz you left and I didn’t say I wuv you.” I truly was thisclose to shrugging off work for the day and staying with my child who shares my sometimes-irrational fear.

I have to believe it’s at least a small fear in all of us. That even from a small age we innately want “to love and be loved in return”. The ability to love is the greatest blessing God has given us and I am considerably luckier than most that I have had an abundance of love to give and given to me in my life. My husband and I don’t leave each other without a kiss and an “I love you”. My mom and I have long since said it to one another and I’ve slowly coaxed it out of my dad and sister when we’re parting ways as well (I fear I have a long way to go for my little brother). It comes extremely naturally to all the Klipschs, more often than not it’s a competition on who can prove their love more or say the words first. But I hope my family, friends and acquaintances realize those words are more than words to me, that not only do I truly love them, but respect, admire and appreciate them. If I die tomorrow I don’t want them to just remember how I said those words so often but how I made them feel them all the time.

This blog is dedicated not only to my enormous family: blood, extended, in-laws and the like, but also to my friends both old and new, to teachers and mentors and everyone in between. To God, that He reminds me of the people who need to hear what I think of them the most. And that He continuously shows me his love, as his has for all my years. And to everyone out there who might share in this little fear of mine. Go spread a little love people.

“The way school needs teachers, the way Kathie Lee needed Regis, that’s the way I need Jesus”.

I’m sure there’d be many-a religious scholars who would have problems with me describing the way I need Jesus like Kanye West so poignantly does in his song “Jesus Walks”, but I’m not afraid. See, it took me a long time to not only admit to myself how much I need Jesus, but also to everyone else. I still find myself wishing for that song to come on the radio so I can point at it and say, “oh man, so true, so true” rather than just come right out and say, “You know what man, I love Jesus and I need Him”.

I don’t think I’m alone in this hesitancy. Ask someone if they’re Christian and there’s a good chance there will be a hesitation and then a long explanation that ends somewhere between yes and no but never sticking to an exact answer. I often do that when someone asks me a spiritual question or asks me to quote a place in the Bible. I fumble around for what would seem to be the right answer like a baby trying to nurse for the first time. It’s not a pretty sight and I fear I tend to distract people from the message, the true message I’m trying to get out. “I don’t have the answers, all I know is the man is a good man and He loves me and I love Him”.

I’m not your typical Jesus lover at first glance. I curse more than I like to admit (though I blame that entirely on my husband), I yell at the dogs too much, I once in awhile make fun of someone else to make myself feel better and I’m definitely not the kind of wife or mother the Bible says you should be. Most my prayers end in me apologizing for being so sleepy and saying something like, “But you know me right? Just listen to my heart and do that please”. I get fidgety when I have to pray aloud, and I am lucky to read passages from the Bible three times a week. I listen to music that my dad so lovingly refers to as “F-this, F-that crap” (as noticed by my two Kanye West references I’m sure). I don’t have a fish bumper sticker, I wear my cross necklace once in awhile, and I have no t-shirts that reference Jesus, God, church, missionary trips or the like, the closest I have is an Oprah shirt and perhaps that counts for some people.

But I do love Jesus and I need Him more than I need anything else. I have a “spiritual journey” just like the next gal, but mine I like to keep a bit private. I still wrestle with my spirituality and sometimes my own wants and needs are the Cael Sandersons and sometimes God’s are, it just depends. It took me a long time to relinquish my control, isn’t that what we’re brought up to want? The American dream, the money, the power, the title, everything. Interestingly enough it’s exactly what God asks you to give up and let Him take control over. It’s just a tough thing to rewire, your whole thought process. Even if you were brought up in a good Christian home like I was, I was also brought up in an intelligent home, one that taught you to think for yourself. It’s only natural that I would want proof and not go on faith alone.

But faith and His grace is what has given me all the amazing things I have now, it definitely hasn’t been my smarts or my beauty (both of which I like to think if ever there was a person that could get by on those alone, it could be me). Only recently have I learned He gives and He takes away with such force and resilience the only thing we humans can do is bow down and worship it. He has given me a beautiful child and taken one away, yet He gives again! He has given me an amazing husband, a beautiful house, a job that makes me happy a good portion of the time, yet has not blessed us with the best health. Ironically the closer I get in my walk with Him, the more I realize it is the taking away that brings me closer to Him. I can for an instant think I am the reason for all the goodness in my life, but it’s in moments of sadness that I realize none of it is about me. In moments of quiet (or loud) desperation I realize it has nothing to do with me.

A couple days ago my husband had to work late so I was home alone with my pneumonia-ridden son. He had been diagnosed a couple days before that but it had seemed to be getting progressively worse. He fell asleep okay but an hour later woke up screaming. I ran upstairs and got him, which usually stops the screaming, but he continued on for the next 10 minutes or so. I started crying and carrying on just like him until he asked, “Mommy, why are you crying”? It took me forever to admit, “Because I’m scared”. This wasn’t a good thing to say as his answer to that was “I’m scared too” and more screams and crying from the both of us. I hugged him and started praying, “God please don’t take him, please heal him, make him feel better, do SOMETHING! Anything, God please.” (Note this was the first time in a long time that I realized this prayer would not end with me sleeping, so I was a bit rusty). But I couldn’t help it I was scared. I was scared I would go in to the doctor thinking he was fine and they would tell me he had cancer or some other life-threatening disease that I was not ready to handle with my angel of a three-year-old. I called my much more grounded husband and we met at the ER. Of course, it was still just pneumonia.

I reflected while watching him with Zach on the hospital bed that I am so out of control in almost every situation I’m in. I may feel in control sometimes, because thank God He gives me the illusion to keep me sane, to keep me happy; but He’s in control whether I like it or not. As tough as that is for me to admit even now, I know it and I love that about Him. He gives me a life much better than I could ever create trying to go at it alone. This is why I love Him, why I need Him and why I shouldn’t be afraid of saying all of that.

Now, “I ain’t here to argue about His facial features, not here to convert atheists into believers”. I’m just trying to say I need Jesus and I’m going to try to be more and more like Him everyday. And next time someone asks me if I’m a Christian, I won’t just take off my shirt and show them my tattoo of a cross, I’ll keep my shirt on and say something like, “Why yes, yes I am and it comes highly recommended.”

After one of Zach and my heated “discussions” I was laying in bed trying to remember why it started in the first place. I’m sure every married person can relate to my inquiry. The story goes something like:

Woman: “I cooked, cleaned up, fed and watered the animals, put our kids to bed while the lazy bum I married sits on the couch.”
Man: “Ahhh had a tough day at work today. Feels so good to be home and relaxing. What’s on TV?”

As seen in the example, only one of the parties is aware of the impending discussion. I’m pretty sure our discussion last night started that way and had begun to end that way until my betrothed came to bed to give me hugs and kisses (our way of saying sorry without having to hurt our pride and actually say it).

Zach and I made an agreement not to go to bed angry at each other. This pact makes sense as you never know if you’ll get another moment together in this life so why have the last one be of silence and anger? But this night was different. I was tired, the discussion was going nowhere and I just wanted to go to bed. I went to bed with our words still lingering where I left them in the living room with my husband, and I sat awake. I never do actually fall asleep angry, I’m pretty sure God just won’t allow it because He knows it will hold awful repercussions for me when I awake well rested and over the squabble.

I’m also pretty sure good portions of our discussions are for no good reason. Sure, it starts with something that bothers us but always ends the same way. I think sometimes we argue just to talk to each other. After 3+ years of marriage we get sick of talking about the same things, asking the same questions. Work, check, kid, check, weather, check. The topics are all the same with few possible variations and it gets tiring; especially considering our first date (and many thereafter) we did little else but sit in bookstores and talk for hours about everything. Picking each other’s brains. Going on wild excursions to find books with the most interesting titles or renting each other’s favorite books in order to understand each other a bit more.

See, I fell in love with Zach for what was on his innards, as we like to call them. Don’t get me wrong, his outards are quite nice indeed and I have always enjoyed viewing those as well, but his innards are what hooked me. I didn’t marry him because I could foresee future stimulating conversations of burp rags, toddler poo and dogs that just refuse to potty train. So it makes sense that we get downtrodden at those mundane discussions. This is not to say our son’s BM schedule is not altogether an interesting subject, as it’s a great segway for my husband to discuss how it compares to his own BM schedule which is ultimately one of his favorite subjects. However, I can tell we want more because of how we get almost excited to argue with each other. Trying to prove our higher-than-normal-intelligence and trying to make points that will win the other one over.

We love looking at older couples that lean on each other as they walk the 5 paces to the restaurant. While seated they gaze out the window lost in many decades of being together. Not having to talk because they’ve pretty much said it all. Zach and I look forward to being that couple, we really do. But there’s such a huge part of me that hopes after 60ish years together we realize there’s still good discussions in Presidents or nuclear disarmament. I hope we can still tote our walkers into bookstores to find the craziest titles and discuss our favorite books.

The thought that our marriage will easily be summed up in a few sentences over dinner scares me. It’s not necessarily a bad thing I understand that. I know grandparents who are just the most precious people, couples I look up to, and don’t say much. I just don’t want that from us. I truly hope the first place our grandkids look when they can’t find us is some obscure park, saying movie lines and seeing if the other’s memory is good enough to recall which movie it comes from. I hope we’re as good of storytellers as we are now. That by the time we’re in our nineties, the story that started out as “Zach meets Tesi”, turns into a thirty minute story, mostly made up of course, of what we were wearing and how he smelled. I hope there’s still so much of the twenty year old I married that I still get a kick out of the crazy things he does like his big childlike grin when he plants a fart smelled ‘round the world. That I still wake up, look at the long eyelashes, the two moles and the large 6’2” frame curled up in the fetal position and smile, overjoyed at the memory of a lifetime spent together and a lifetime yet to come.