Five Months

September 8, 2016

Five months ago today, Tai William CheolHo Bowler was carried off of an airplane by his Appa in Dallas, Texas, and became an official citizen of the United States of America.

Welcome to America, little man!

Waiting to hand over our important manila envelope to the immigration officer

Five months. Sometimes it feels as though he has always been with us. Other times, I am blindsided by circumstances that illustrate just how little time we have spent with him. This past month has rivaled only the first as the most difficult thus far. For the most part, this has very little to do with Tai and a lot to do with everyone going back to school. Attempting to precisely time a nap to coincide with getting big kids to their respective activities can get stressful. Holding a tired, screaming toddler while trying to help a seventh grader with Algebra I homework and follow up on the fifth grader who is supposed to be taking out the trash all before I shove kids in the car to take Anna to dance at 4:00 each day is rough.

We are making progress in regard to attachment, but it is SLOW...

Anna remarked last night, "He hasn't gotten upset the last few times that Dad has taken him to bed instead of you." Yesssss!!! We celebrate small victories around here. This is one of them.

Despite meandering our way through the day in a fairly sleep-deprived state, life with this little guy is awesome. Getting to know him brings us joy on a daily basis. He is funny and silly, and usually in a good mood. Unless it is time to sleep through the night or take a nap... but I digress.

Tai surprises us with his constantly growing English vocabulary. Every day he adds new words. He often points to items and wants us to repeat their names to him, but he will not attempt to say the words himself. Suddenly, a few days later, he blurts out the word in his cute, toddler English. He talks constantly... and sometimes we understand him. :)

His speech is like binoculars. At first, everything is blurry. He loves to pretend with his Thomas the Tank Engine and friends or his rescue and construction vehicles. He crashes them together and excitedly exclaims, "Oh, no!" or "Uh oh!" He follows this announcement with a fast and furious flurry of other words, mostly incomprehensible. A mix of English and Korean... Konglish. Recently, those words are starting to pop out at us... like the distant figures on the other side of binoculars as you slowly draw them into focus. Or a camera lens as you peer through the viewfinder and make adjustments to bring your subject into focus.

Currently, my favorite Tai saying is "Tai mmmm," or "Mmmm Tai," or "Ommma, mmmm Tai." This is Tai-speak for "Hold me and snuggle me." As Matt pointed out, I usually say, "Mmmmmm," as I close my eyes and snuggle him close. He wraps his little arms around me and pulls me in as he nestles his head into my shoulder or chest. I will never tire of "Tai mmms."

Tai has grown in his love of Thomas and all things train, but he still loves Tayo and Robocar Poli. He is trying to learn all of the names of the various trains. This entails a lot of Tai taking my finger in his hand, using it to point to each train, and then waiting for me to tell him the name. Guess what? I, too, now know Thomas, Percy, Henry, James, Gordon, Toby, Emily...

Our little guy still loves "his" Ipad and the MANY versions of the Finger Family Song. Who knew that you could sing about Mommy, Daddy, Brother, Sister, and Baby finger in so many languages? Also, there is a Finger Family Song for almost every cartoon character. Thomas, Tayo, Robocar Poli, Mickey Mouse. You name them. They are in the song. If you are not familiar with this delightful little tune, try googling it. Be forewarned, you will be singing it in your sleep and might be cursing me a tiny bit.

Tai also adores this crazy YouTube video of a man with a foreign accent opening lollipops. He unwraps each one, sings about its color, tries it, and then announces, "Yummy, yummy!" Tai now professes his delight and love of food by proclaiming it, "Ummy, ummy!" Poop and anything dirty or stuck to his hands is declared, "Ucky!"

Our old miniature John Deere gator is also getting some love from the little guy. He is a horrible driver, and makes a much better passenger. You will find a huge grin plastered across his face as he looks one way while crashing into the bushes. He still enjoys riding in the car, as well. He jabbers away in his car seat about everything he sees along the way, always with his pudgy little feet criss-crossed and tucked up to him (just like his big brother, he yanks off his shoes as soon as he is seated).

A few weeks ago, Tai took a leap into the lake off of the dock. As he surfaced, he exclaimed, "Happy!" Though he is not a member of the Duck Dynasty Robertson crew, he often declares that he is, "Happy, happy, happy!" This is one of his favorite words now. He is prone to look into my eyes while sitting in a grocery cart with a huge grin on his face and say "Happy!" He then follows up his declaration with a hug and "Tai, mmmm." It melts me every time.

Water is this guy's happy place

Eating his favorite...watermelon!

This past month has been physically and emotionally exhausting, but looking into those smiling chocolate eyes makes it worth every sleepless night.

Then Esau looked up and saw the women and children. "Who are these with you?" he asked. Jacob answered, "They are the children God has graciously given your servant."

~ Genesis 33:5

It will be different...

“It will be different, you know. Raising a brown baby. There are…” she trailed off, cleared her throat and gathered courage. Sometimes the truth is difficult to hear, and often even more difficult to speak.

She began again. Softly, as our children’s giggles and shrieks floated innocently along the breeze while we huddled together on our back porch.

“We teach our white families raising brown babies that they will need to raise those children a little differently. Even a routine traffic stop will need to be taken very, very seriously. You will probably want to talk to other families. I have a reading list that may help, as well. Sadly, it is just the world we live in.”

It is just the world we live in.

We were currently enrolled in the Open Options program with our adoption agency, and were open to any child in any of their country and DHS programs who happened to be a “match.” The time was quickly approaching when we would have to choose a country program, as no match had been made through Open Options. We were leaning heavily toward adopting from Haiti. A few weeks following that meeting with our social worker, Michael Brown was shot and killed by a police officer in Ferguson, Missouri…

In the midst of the riots in Ferguson, we received a call. We had been matched with a chubby-cheeked, smiley baby boy in South Korea.  He was undeniably ours, and the whole family sported the pregnancy glow. We were head over heels in love. We wouldn’t be bringing home a brown baby, but we would be bringing home an Asian baby who definitely looked nothing like the rest of our family. No worries, though, right? None of the race worries that consumed me as I prayed about a baby in Haiti, right? As we would learn the following summer, racism takes many forms, and does not fit neatly into a black/white box.

Summer 2015. Korea Camp. 

A panel of young adult Korean adoptees and a room full of parents of Korean adoptees. For the first time, I heard the term “microaggressions.”

Microaggression: 

A term first used by Columbia professor Derald Sue to refer to “brief and commonplace daily verbal, behavioral, or environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative racial slights and insults toward people of color.”

Whether intentional or unintentional. Have you ever used the phrase or thought, “But he/she didn’t really mean it,”? I have. Since bringing home Tai, I have heard several comments that brought a lump to my throat. When I mentioned them to others, I was told, “But she didn’t really mean it,” or "He/She didn't mean it that way." Tai is too young to understand the root of those comments right now, but the day is not far away. The tightening in my chest is real. And justified.

What I learned from those young people at Korea Camp was that every one of those “jokes” or instances where someone “didn’t really mean it”…they are cumulative. As I listened to them share their hearts, sometimes with tears streaming down their faces and other times with justified anger, something deep inside me began to ache. I heard parents share about their kindergartner’s first experience of being called a banana (white on the inside, yellow on the outside), flat face, or pancake face. The schoolyard taunts and Asian eye jokes. I learned about the sexual stereotypes imposed on young Korean girls, and the frustration of not excelling in math when the stereotype and well-meaning friends say otherwise.

Imagine that each of us is created as a magnificent sculpture, perfect in the eyes of God in every way. With every slight, whether intentional or unintentional, a little bit of that sculpture gets chipped away. For some, the sculpture eventually crumbles to the floor. For others, with one final chink in the marble, it explodes violently into a million tiny pieces. Even for adopted children growing up in a “white” world, the chisel still wields a mighty blow.

Fast forward to this summer…

I am holding our newly adopted little guy perched on my hip while standing in line to purchase snacks at a gas station along the highway. Our daughter, Anna, is acting silly and dancing around a bit, eliciting the sweet music of Tai giggles and guffaws. Suddenly, I spot it. I hug Tai closer to my body and take a step back. I shush Anna and tell her to calm down a bit. I try to give the young man in front of me the benefit of the doubt, but the Mama Bear instincts kick in and I feel the overwhelming need to protect my cubs. Not everyone reacts positively to transracial families such as ours. Especially not young men with swastikas inked on their shoulders.

Suddenly, our social worker’s words come flooding back.“It will be different, you know…”

I’m already doing it. I’m changing my behavior in order to not draw any extra attention that could potentially bring harm to my family. Goodness knows we are one tent short of a circus even on our best days. (My mother lovingly shared that she recently heard this saying and thought of us. Hmmmm...)

During our pre-flight meeting at our adoption agency we were asked how our family and friends were reacting to our adoption. Were they prepared to embrace our Korean cutie? It was explained to us that even the most hesitant of grandparents, friends, etc. have a difficult time holding on to prejudices once they meet and get to know these little guys.

Once they get to know them.

So it is with all of God’s creations, I believe. It is easier to hate the unknown. Let’s hate all Muslims because the only ones we “know” are the terrorists we see on television. Guess what? I would trust most of my gay friends with my children more than many of my straight friends. Why? Because I know them. After the horrifying shootings in Orlando, I read about each of the victims. Sisters, mothers, brothers, husbands, and sons. They weren’t just LGBTQ people. They were people. They were all loved by someone, and I wanted to know them.

Several days ago a man only a few months older than me was shot and killed by a police officer in the place that I call home, Tulsa, Oklahoma. His name was Terence Crutcher, and he was a father to four children. I am withholding judgement in this case until all of the facts are revealed, but it is an unfathomable tragedy for all involved. Both police officers and family members are understandably shaken by these events. I have watched the videos, and despite the fact that I know how it ends, I find myself pleading with Terence to stop walking and keep his hands up. To turn around and face the officers. To not reach toward his car. Whether he was impeded by a medical emergency, drugs, or simply poor judgment, he does not stop or turn back around.

Unfortunately, Tulsa has a dark past when it comes to race relations. Once home to America's Black Wall Street, it became home to the largest and most violent race riots in American history in 1921, decimating America's most prosperous African American community. I strongly believe that "The Burning" by Tim Madigan should be required reading for all High School students, especially as we work as a nation to understand the underpinnings of our current situation.

What do I know, regardless of whether race was at play in Terence’s case?

We still have a race problem in America. Every time a white police officer shoots another black man, shouts of racism echo across the country, even if the shooting was justified.

What will it take to effect real change in our lifetimes?

We must continue and in some cases START a dialogue. Mayors, community leaders, pastors. Those with a voice need to use it to unite, rather than divide. Peaceful protests are a great way to bring attention to an issue, but they rarely invoke change. 

White people, we must acknowledge white privilege.

There. I said it. It is hard to admit, but the more I have read and heard from speakers, the more I realize that in order for me to even begin to understand how my brothers and sisters of color experience life in America, I must acknowledge the advantages that were mine from birth. The perks of being white in America. There are many, but they are often subtle and unrecognized by those of us who benefit from them every day.

Parents, we must teach ALL of our children, regardless of race, to respect and obey those who vow to serve and protect us. If a police officer tells you to put your hands up? Do it. Sit down? Do it. No arguing, no questions asked. Sure, there are some rotten apples in the police force, but the vast majority are there because they truly want to protect and help us. They get paid next to nothing for performing an increasingly dangerous job. To those of you in the police force and those of you who love and support those officers… THANK YOU.

We need to build bridges. I witnessed some amazing bridge-building happening when I attended the local IF:Gathering here in Tulsa this year. Women who had been inspired to reach out to women of other races and backgrounds and truly get to know them as Jesus would. They shared a meal, laughed, and talked about the hard stuff that none of us want to admit, as well as the hard stuff that many of us didn’t KNOW we didn’t know.

I would love to see not just bullying discussions, but specific discussions about race and religious diversity in our schools. Last night we met each of our daughter’s middle school teachers. As we traveled from class to class, I saw parents who were African American, Indian, and Burmese (we have a large population of Burmese refugees in our schools). I saw a mother wearing her hijab. As much as our public schools are struggling financially in our state, it made my heart happy that my daughter is meeting and befriending children who represent the world… not just our little corner of it.

LOVE. We must let our love win over our hate. Our courage must be greater than our fear. Our desire to see a better world for our children must outweigh the ease of living with the status quo. We can shut ourselves in our homes and watch the news spin the stories 24/7 or we can get out there, get to know our neighbors, and share and learn from one another.

"It will be different…" she said.

It WILL be different.

It CAN be different...but it starts right here at home.

Broken

"We're all broken. That's how the light gets in."

~ Ernest Hemingway

White hot tears streaked down my sweat-rimmed face on that blazing July day. The weather man described it as a "three shower day," explaining that we would need to take three showers to endure the sweltering Oklahoma heat. I needed more than a simple shower. I needed to run and weep and run some more. I needed to run away, but still find my way home.

Because they were waiting. Those three little people for whom we prayed, two of whom are not so little anymore. Those little people who make me giggle and sigh and shake my head would be waiting at home. Waiting for me to kiss his boo boo, show me his latest GoPro video, take her shopping. My husband, who has bravely weathered every storm that life has tossed our way in 16 years? He would be waiting. Waiting for his turn to take a breath, to take a break.

Because here's the deal. When you invite brokenness into your home? When you say, "Yes," to God? Sometimes... well... sometimes it feels like it just might break you.

I was locked out of the house. Our little guy loves me sooooo much that he has learned how to open the door and initiate a search party of one. Matt locked it in an effort to keep Tai safe and allow me to escape. Now it just felt like one more roadblock. Lightheaded and dizzy, I knocked harder. Louder.

Matt and I verbally lashed out at each other over something trivial as he opened the door and I stumbled into our blessedly cold, dry air-conditioned home. 

Home. He was home. Tai was finally home. And I was crying. Exhausted. Mentally and physically depleted, and questioning what on earth we had gotten ourselves into. Were we really equipped for this calling? Had we heard God correctly? Were we wrecking our family? Were our other kids getting enough attention?

Sleep deprivation and heat exhaustion have the uncanny ability to highjack rational thought processes.

I shouted at my husband, "I don't need you to solve a problem or fix it! I need you to tell me that it's going to be okay! That we're going to be okay. I need reassurance, not a plan." He uttered not a word, but swooped over to envelop me in his arms as I shook, sobbing with the intensity of the emotions. 

We haven't slept in the same bed in almost three months, taking turns sleeping in the room with Tai. We're gradually inching our way out of the room, but it's a painstakingly long process. Our little man loves us, and particularly me, with his everything. It is such a big love that it can sometimes feel a bit suffocating. I recall a similar feeling with my bio kids during periods of extreme separation anxiety. In this case, however, his worst nightmare was realized. He is old enough to remember, but not old enough to understand. He knows that a mommy can say goodbye and not come back.

Tai sees me crying and begins to cry.  If Omma is sad, he is sad. It will not be difficult to teach him empathy. I scoop up his solid, yet squishy toddler body and hug it close to mine. I kiss his chubby cheeks soft as velvet, and whisper in his ear. "Quinchana. It's okay. Omma is okay. I love you so, so much. Sarang-hae."

If you're broken, buddy, then I want to be broken with you. We'll pick up the pieces together. Isn't that what Jesus did in His ultimate act of love for us? He who was without sin took the sin of the world upon him. He allowed his body to be broken for us. With that single act, He experienced the agony of His first and only separation from God in all of eternity.

But He didn't stay broken, and there lies the beauty and hope we have in Jesus.

Quinchana. It's okay. It's going to be okay...

*I know that most of us who have adopted don't like to share this part of the process. It is messy and hard, and we don't want to deter anyone from adopting or prevent a child from having a forever family. My prayer is that by sharing our whole story (and not just the smiles and a false fairytale ending), you might come to see all that adoption entails. That you would see how God takes the messy and ugly parts and makes them beautiful. That the redemptive love of Christ is free to all who live in this broken world. In my almost 40 years on this earth, nothing has come closer to showing me God's faithfulness and unwavering love for us than adopting Tai. It is one of life's greatest privileges and honors that God trusted us enough to be his parents.

Two Month Gotcha Day!

June 4, 2016

Two months ago today you were handed over to us in a van. Screaming, crying, confused, and scared. Though you gained a brother, a sister, and a mommy and daddy, you lost everything and everyone you had ever loved. 

While your world was suddenly turned upside-down, we were shown in sharp clarity how fiercely God loves us. 

Even when we don't love Him or want Him near, He pursues us. Even when we openly reject him. He loves us that much. We love you that much. We grieved for you and alongside you until slowly, slowly... you trusted us enough to allow us into your precious, aching heart.

Parenting you, Tai CheolHo, will forever be one of our greatest joys and privileges in life.

 At almost two and a half years old, you have learned the English words for all of the colors (you already knew them in Korean) and can correctly identify them. You remain mesmerized by the fruit and vegetable videos on YouTube, as well as those found in your books. You can say the names of many foods (croccoli/broccoli, apple, kiwi, beebewies/strawberries, mon/lemon, orangee/orange, bwed/bread, nana/banana, corn, ikeem/ice cream, and more). You can say "eat" and "all gone." We have had to limit your fruit intake, as you are a voracious fruitaholic.

You absolutely ADORE songs and fingerplays in English. You try to sing along and recreate the motions to The Wheels on the Bus, Hickory, Dickory Dock, The Five Finger Family, Old McDonald, and the Listen Song. You watch these songs and fingerplays on "your" iPad, as well as the Kinder Surprise videos. You also enjoy watching some Korean cartoons such as Robocar Poli and Tayo.

Out of all of your cars and trucks, police cars are still your favorites. You make the sound effects as you race them around the kitchen. You play with the many rescue vehicles and Tayo buses that your Korean Omma sent home with you.

When Grant and his friends walk in the door, you immediately take their hands and lead them to the trampoline. Grant needs only to say, "Tai CheolHo, haja jumpo jumpo!" and you drop everything and begin sprinting outdoors toward your favorite bounce spot.

You are prone to climb in your stroller in the garage at least once per day and proclaim, "Annyeong, ducks!" This is our signal that you want us to take you for a stroll by the ponds to see the many ducks and their baby ducklings (as you are still learning a lot of new English words, geese are also referred to as ducks). 

You continue to hone your culinary skills in your kitchen. You chop the wooden sushi we bought for you, and now purposely mismatch the velcro foods while shaking your head and saying, "Noooo....nooo," until you decide to find the matching half.

When we ask, "Ssisuelka?" (Do you want to bathe?), you drop whatever you are doing and run to the bath. I believe it is possibly your favorite part of the day. You go underwater without hesitation and love to float on your back. Not only are you Korean, you are also part fish.

We read Goodnight Moon and Baby Boo! every night before bed. You kiss all of the babies in Baby Boo!, and point to every clock in Goodnight Moon. When you say "moon," it sounds more like "mung," your word for dog.

You are busy, busy, busy, but rarely angry. Sad? Yes. Frustrated? Yes. Extremely attached to Omma right now and suffer extreme separation anxiety? Yes. However, you have never, ever even attempted to strike out at any of us or the dog. Had any of us been in your place, I am fairly certain that punches would have been thrown. You can tantrum like any two year old, but they are usually short-lived.

Your Appa and I have a fresh perspective on parenting the third time around. We have seen that these toddler days are fleeting. We know we will blink and you will be rolling your eyes at us and asking to have a buddy spend the night or begging us to buy you deodorant (even if you don't need it quite yet). The pillow on our couch reads ENJOY THE LITTLE THINGS IN LIFE, FOR SOMEDAY YOU WILL REALIZE THEY WERE THE BIG THINGS. These days of playing cars, reading books, wiping tears, snuggling you to sleep at night? They are the big things that we no longer take for granted. I vividly remember the day early last summer when your sister announced, "I can put myself to bed. You don't have to do it anymore." I didn't know that the night before was the last time I would officially tuck her into bed.

The tantrums, constant feeding, and clinginess of a toddler? That, too, will pass quickly and strangely unnoticed.

You are happy, gentle and loving, and were described by some of the mamas at the park as a little teddy bear. There is no better feeling in the world than when you run to me, jump into my arms, and wrap your arms and legs around me like a koala bear while patting me on the back as you tuck your head into my shoulder. Anna used to watch a show called Little Bear when she was a toddler. That's you, dear Tai. Our own Little Bear.

You have breathed fresh life into our family, sweet Tai, and we thank God for you every day! Happy Two Month Gotcha Day!

We Meet at Last

We first saw our little guy's chubby face on August 11, 2014. Almost 19 long months later, we got to meet the big personality behind the joyful giggle. Here is the story of that first day...

Friday, February 26, 2016

I'm not sure anything truly prepares you for the moment you meet your child. I can say that I was much more coherent and in a lot less pain when I met Tai than when I gave birth to my other children. Matt was genuinely concerned that I was not overjoyed at the prospect of holding dear Anna after pushing for three hours. Have mercy. I was vomiting and could barely hold up my own head to look at her. (She was gorgeous, of course.)

I tried to keep my expectations low for that first meeting. In all of the descriptions and videos we had of Tai, he was a very happy, outgoing little guy. However, we had no idea how or if his foster mother had prepared him for this day. We had no idea if his foster mom had prepared herself for this day.

We were in for a treat.

We hired a Canadian photographer named Greg to accompany us to that first meeting. We wanted to be fully present for Tai, but also wanted this huge day in his story (and ours) to be documented. Greg came to our hotel that morning to meet with us and take candid photos as we prepared for the day. It was a gorgeous morning in Seoul. Sun shining, blue skies with little smog, and only a light coat required. He shepherded us around the subways of Seoul to Eastern Social Welfare Society, giving us a quick tutorial of the carefully crafted and user-friendly system. Along the way, he gave us tips about Korean culture (speak quietly on the subway). I am so grateful that God gave us Greg that day. He greatly reduced our anxiety over getting to Eastern, and allowed us to soak up the new sights and smells of our son's home country.

When we arrived at Eastern (a little bit late- ACK!), we had to first fill out the online forms for Tai's visa. We were carefully walked through the process, and even got to see our cutie's South Korean passport. Seeing his passport was one of those "this is really happening" moments. 

The kids waited across the hall in the Eastern Cafe. Some of the moms who decide to keep their children are employed there through a program Eastern implemented to help these mothers. It is not easy being a single mom in South Korea. Having a baby out of wedlock is South Korea's scarlet letter.

Greg hung out with the kids, and then came to see us. He took photos of us completing the visa process and on one of the famous blue couches. Almost all of our updates each month featured Tai opening our care package or playing with a toy on one of the blue couches.

We were told that Tai and his foster mom were waiting for us up on the second floor. Cue internal freak out. We had been waiting for this moment for almost two years.

We climbed the stairs with our many gift bags, and then suddenly... there he was. I saw his foster mom whisk him toward us and then place him on the ground, excitedly pointing toward us and saying, "Appa, Omma!" He somewhat hesitantly took the last few steps to us, and then the rest gets kind of blurry. I'm sure I said, "Anyanghaseo" (Hi) or something to that effect. I know I got a little teary and that my first thought was, "Oh my goodness. He is so little." 

We were told to get on the elevator and go up to the third floor to the play room. Anna had the thought to try to record on her phone, so we have a blurry video of an excited little Tai running into the elevator, and then turning around and saying, "Appa..." He was telling us all to get in the elevator. We think he also said Omma, but the video cuts out and we were in shock.

Once in the playroom, we saw his bubbly, funny personality emerge. He loved taking all of the plastic fruit from the play kitchen and putting their velcro halves back together. A grape half could NOT be put together with an apple half. He would have none of it. He took joy in trying to then cut the halves apart with a plastic knife.

There were several times during his play when he would look at us the same way we were looking at him... a bit in awe by the fact that the people in the photos were here in the flesh. In a moment that will be forever burned into our memories, he looked up into Matt's eyes, pointed, and said, "Appa." And then, he smiled.

We brought out the soft Oklahoma City Thunder balls from our bag of tricks and began throwing and rolling them back and forth. He laughed and laughed. I could listen to that beautiful sound ALL. DAY. LONG. We learned that the word for ball is "gong."

Our little man seems to take great joy in being the center of attention. He enjoyed having one of us help him walk up the slide, and then someone else catch him at the bottom. Greg brought out his harmonica to get Tai's attention, and Tai wanted to play it, so he did. Well. We discovered that there is a harmonica in his foster home. We know that he loves his play piano, as well, so maybe there is hope for a musical Bowler after all! Matt definitely needs to brush up on his guitar and harmonica skills, and we will be keeping our piano (sorry, Matt).

We blew bubbles and colored briefly. He is a BUSY guy! It made my heart soar to see no physical or mental limitations. Occasionally (but rarely), parents arrive and discover a special need that requires attention. He will certainly have obstacles to overcome in his transition to his forever home, but we found no concerning "surprises." Thank you, Jesus! That said, no "surprise" could have lessened our love for him.

The social worker and Tai's foster mom stayed in the room for that first meeting. The social worker was able to translate questions that I wanted to ask his foster mom. She told us that Tai loves to listen to Matt's voice. She said that he looks at our pictures, wraps his arms around himself in a hug, and says, "Sarang hae." I love you. Melt. My. Heart. I received a list of Tai's food likes and dislikes. The only foods that were checked as "dislikes" were octopus, squid, and tomatoes. I can live with that. It also looks like I need to learn how to make seaweed soup.

Our time together flew by quickly. We were allowed to accompany him to the clinic in the building, where he was weighed and measured. Grant played "peek-a-boo" with him, which resulted in uncontrollable giggles. It was finally time to say goodbye, and we received some quick hugs. I even received a "po-po" (kiss).

We were completely drained, but high on emotions when we bid farewell. We looked to Greg and said, "I think that went pretty well." He nodded immediately. "Definitely. They can go either way, and I don't think they can get any better than that."

With that, we bid farewell to Greg until we return to take custody. We collapsed in a cab, and returned to our hotel... grinning from ear to ear.

The gifts for foster family, etc. are ready!

Anna getting ready in the hotel

The famous blue couches and toys

Sarang (Love)

"All Just to Get to You"

There is a song by Texas singer and songwriter Pat Green called, "All Just to Get to You." These are the events that transpired in the final hours "all just to get to" our sweet baby boy.

After leaving our house on Wednesday, February 24, around 5:15 a.m., we arrived at Incheon/Seoul Airport at 4:15 p.m. on Thursday, February 25. We were exhausted, but excited. The kids were traveling champs. Although Grant liked to complain about the 14 hour flight before and after the fact (who can blame him?), he never made a peep. He watched movies, ate, and slept. Not such a horrible life. After a brief mix-up that led us to get out of line for customs once we realized that even the kids had to fill out forms (not the case in the USA), we breezed our way through and waited for our driver from Eastern.

To make a long story short, there was some sort of miscommunication and a driver had not been sent. Later, a driver was sent for another family from Eastern whom we have since learned was stuck in customs for a loooooong time. After almost four hours of waiting, we told the driver (who was still waiting for the other family) that we would take a cab. He quickly waved us off and said, "No, no. I take you." The other family (bless their hearts!) finally ended up taking the train once they emerged from customs and realized that their driver had left. We were definitely feeling guilty for taking their driver, but were too drained to protest too much. After all, we were meeting our son in a little over 12 hours!

The painfully long wait in Seoul

The driver refused to take the customary gift that I offered upon arriving at the hotel after the hour-long ride. He had let us down, and he didn't feel he deserved it. We would soon learn that the entitlement mentality we are accustomed to in the United States is still blessedly absent in South Korea.

Our first night in Seoul was spent in two different rooms. Grant and Matt stayed in one, while Anna and I set up temporary camp in the other. Our original reservation began the next day, and when we added a day due to the huge savings on airfare by leaving the USA a day earlier, our room was booked. I believe that this actually worked out for the best. God knew that despite the excitement and anticipation, it might take a small amount of mountain-moving to get all of us ready in our required "business casual attire" and out the door in the morning. A divide and conquer approach proved quite effective.

When we reached our room, I still had to unload all of the gifts for the foster family, social worker, and visa coordinator. I wrapped them and prepared our clothes for the morning. I packed the balls, bubbles, balloons, matchbox cars, stickers, paper, and crayons in a bag for Tai. In the event that our meeting was not in one of the play rooms, we needed to be prepared. I finally fell into bed around 11:15 p.m. I slept like a baby, and awoke early the next morning... excitement coursing through my veins!

24 Hours

Here is the blog I posted on Facebook after we landed in Seoul...

February 24-25, 2016

Tulsa International Airport early in the morning

First flight to Dallas

The looooong flight to Seoul

I was told my blog might not let me post from Korea, annnnd... it won't post. Soooo... as we continue waiting in the Seoul airport for our driver (going on 4 hours now since we landed)... here is the blog I wrote during our flight today.

I posted this blog on Facebook with this guy in my lap at the Seoul/Incheon Airport

Trust. My word for the year is "trust." As I type this on my phone we have just crossed the International Date Line. We are cruising over the Bering Strait, preparing to fly over Russia and China, and will finally land this bird in South Korea. Every year I pray for God to show me where I need to focus and grow for the year. I have been intentional, present, and this year... I trust.

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders. Let me walk upon the waters... wherever You would call me."

We began the adoption process two years ago. We were one of the Guinea pigs in our agency's new "Open Options" program. We knew we were called to adopt, but were having a hard time selecting a country. Open Options allowed us to be matched with ANY child, from ANY country or even our local DHS. Our philosophy was, "We'll go anywhere, God. Show us our child, and we will bring him/her home."

As we neared the end of the "open" portion of the process, we had still not been matched with a child. It was looking like we might actually have to choose a country. Matt and I prayed and agreed that we weren't really "feeling any connection" to the Asian countries, so we looked more closely at Haiti.

Bwahahaha! God has such a sense of humor. We just threw God the perfect pitch. Right in His strike zone (as if He needs one). I should know better than to give God the easy hit. Some of my other famous "strike zone" utterances: "I will NEVER drive one of those behemoth Suburbans like those other Texas moms," (We just sold the Suburban after 11 years... and bought a Yukon XL.) and Matt's favorite, "I am NOT moving to Oklahoma." This summer marks 10 years in Tulsa.

A little over 18 months ago we received the call that would change everything. As the cherubic eight month old cutie we now call Tai giggled and laughed at us from the computer screen, it was as if He and God had been in it together all along. Quite suddenly, we felt an undeniable, unexplainable connection to Asia. To South Korea. We knew we were looking at our son.

"Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander. And my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior."

In exactly 24 hours we meet our son for the very first time. I am trusting God that our meeting will help prepare his little heart for what will be yet another loss in his young life. My spirit soars at the thought of finally holding his pudgy little hands and hugging him close to my heart, where he has been growing for the past two years. However, this will be hard. His foster mother may cry. She, too, is preparing for a great loss. His birth mother will be signing the final papers. Receiving word that he is going to live with his forever family. I pray that she knows that we will do everything in our power to enable him to live up to her hopes and dreams for him. I will most certainly cry.

Please join me in trusting God in this next step of faith.

Hugs from somewhere over Russia!

"So I will call upon Your name. And keep my eyes above the waves. When oceans rise... My soul will rest in Your embrace... For I am Yours and You are mine."

*Music lyrics from "Oceans" by Hillsong United