Today is a bit different with the recent addition of two new family members. For those who have been following our journey (or have traveled a similar road), you know that we are settling--somewhat smoothly but not without stumbles and struggles--into what has been aptly called, our "new normal." 

In celebration of fatherhood, I wanted to share some "behind-the-scenes" adoption moments accompanied by the wit, wisdom, and whimsey of others.

I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection. Sigmund Freud

So long as little children are allowed to suffer, there is no true love in this world. Isadora Duncan

It takes a village to raise a child. 

African Proverb

A man never stands as tall as when he kneels to help a child. 

Knights of Pythagoras

It is much easier to become a father than to be one. 

Kent Nerburn

A truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms when his hands are empty. Unknown

Our children give us the opportunity to become the parents we always wished we'd had. Louise Hart

Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father!

Lydia M. Child

The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother. David O. McKay

Grand Rapids, Michigan 

May 29th, 2009

Day 1336

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Stacy, Rosalinda, and Rebeca Arrive FRIDAY NITE @ GRR (CO2887) @ 11:18PM. CYA There!!

I returned late last night from Nicaragua with Ryan, Sam, and Kate. It was incredibly difficult to leave Stacy and the girls in Managua for the second time in as many months. But as difficult as it was for me, it was that much harder for Stacy. As most of you know, she has been away from her home, friends, family, and support network for nearly a dozen weeks.

While we have appreciated the opportunity that Stacy has been given to bond with Rosalinda and Rebeca and them with her, they are ALL ready to be here. Last details include obtaining the adoption sentence, birth certificates, medical clearances, visas, passports, and (rebooked) airline tickets. Such crucial steps demand a sense of urgency, high level of accuracy, inexhaustible patience, and enormous favor (not to mention even more time, energy, and money). So please continue to pray that Stacy can finally return home so that Rosalinda and Rebeca can finally know a home of their own.

Again, we appreciate so much the love, encouragement, and generosity you all have shown over this very long and very exciting journey. Honestly, we could not imagine doing this without that.

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A little before 10:00 AM Nicaragua time on May 22nd, 2009, we legally adopted Rosalinda Ava and Rebeca Sara into the Oechsler family. The day was made even more special with the presence and participation of our three biological children--Ryan, Sam, and Kate. Our meeting took place in a small, interior office within Jinotepe's simple but bustling courthouse. It was officiated by the attorney general, a presiding judge, and local Mi Familia designate who we found to be very professional, respectful, and gracious. With our attorney, Martha, by our side each one of us (save the youngest) signed the last of the paperwork.

When validated for our willingness to bring two more children into our home, we explained that now we are "una familia completa" since "siete es el número perfecto." 

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Spring Break '09 will definitely go down in our family's record book. During one week: Sam and I went skiing out West to celebrate his 16th birthday; Kate vacationed in Florida with moms and daughters from the neighborhood; Ryan was back in Miami at the U; and Stacy, Rosalinda, and Rebeca enjoyed a weekend at the beach in Nicaragua. 

The following week Stacy and I celebrated our 25th Anniversary. You know, we had always planned to spend this one (unlike ALL the other anniversaries) in some romantic locale such as Paris or Venice or Kauai. Instead we iChatted with each other, sharing cake and ice cream as a really extended family. The highlight was Stacy and the girls "blowing" out candles in Michigan all the way from Managua.  

And now, five plus weeks into our unavoidable "separation" we're all slowly settling into our routines. I am trying to learn (without permanently damaging) the "Floral Street" routine that Stacy has spent years building and refining. Being "Mr. Mom" (as Michael Keaton's character, Jack, can attest) is not easy but often humorous. On a regular basis I hear myself saying, "You're doing it wrong!" The kids stay up too late which makes them hard to get up in the morning. Who knew? I spent three consecutive days at the D&W pharmacy picking up prescriptions (suspect I could have done it in one trip). Then there is dance practice and lacrosse games (you should actually read the team's newsletter PRIOR to your turn for travel snacks).

Meals have been... interesting on several fronts: 1) we have grown to love cereal as much as Jerry Seinfeld; 2) breaking bread with friends, family, and neighbors is fun; 3) having friends, family, and neighbors deliver meals is less humbling than it is greatly appreciated; and 4) restaurants are not the same when you're missing a main ingredient (mom). Oh, I also found out yesterday that bills need to be paid (and paid on time) or they send something called a "shut off" notice (helpful hint: you can use your debit card over the phone).

As some of you know, I was raised by a single/working mom who had to learn how to drive at 50, went back to night school at Crossland High to learn typing and stenography, and struggled to make a living while raising two young boys in a small apartment off Pennsylvania Avenue (extended) in PG County, Maryland. At age 12, this latchkey kid became "chief cook and bottle washer" and took on babysitting in our complex to make spending money. All this to say, I have always had a great appreciation for single parents and now have a much greater appreciation for my wife/partner/best friend and all she does for me and the kids.   

In Nicaragua, Stacy is establishing a "Carratera Masaya" routine for the very first time. Routine, she will tell you, is extremely important for Rosalinda and Rebeca. The girls get up at 6:00 every day and are in bed at 8:00 most nights. They fall asleep to either lullabies in English or Nicaraguan children's songs.

Two showers a day are typical, especially with temps topping 100 degrees. On MWF we have a tutor who visits to teach both girls English and work on math concepts with Rosalinda. They are both very bright and eager to learn. Stacy prepares three meals each day but the girls get healthy snacks in between. Favorites foods include corn flakes, hot dogs, and personal pan pizza ("personal" simply because the kitchen only has a toaster oven).

The girls have additional friends now temporarily living in the "family compound" so free time includes arts & crafts, playing games, movies, soccer, etc. Special outings include: walking to Tip Top for chicken fingers, french fries, and an air conditioned playscape; visiting the Hilton in town where buying lunch means you can use the hotel pool; impromptu but difficult to coordinate get-togethers with other adopting families; and church on Sundays.    

So that's the day-to-day until the day we are able to all be together in one place. After almost six weeks we know there are many more weeks to go before the adoption is finalized. We pray that every meeting bears much fruit, that each review and report is favorable, and that a sense of urgency would permeate proceedings. We also pray for protection and provision for all those involved in this adoption. And we thank each of you who have joined us on our journey. 

As a family we are learning much, growing deeper, getting closer, and living larger. Such is life. 

As many of you know, Stacy and I are currently "fostering" our two girls down in Managua, Nicaragua. Initially the thought of spending an extended and fairly open-ended time away from friends and family was overwhelming. We also realized that the investment of resources, both tangible and intangible, would be significant. But such concerns are tempered after waiting so long, coming so far, and then finally receiving "the call" to travel. At that point you make arrangements as fast as you can and just pray you haven't forgotten anything "critical" as you pull out of the driveway and head to the airport. 

Almost a month into this "assimilation" period, we have grown to appreciate how the process is helping form initial bonds and stronger attachments with Rosalinda and Rebeca. Stacy describes it as "learning how to dance with one another." Our own parenting skills and style are also being observed and assessed by those in Nicaragua ultimately responsible for the health and well-being of these very special little girls. 

While Stacy remains in Nicaragua caring for Rosalinda and Rebeca, I recently returned to Michigan to care for our older kids, maintain the home, and continue my work. It was on the eve of my return that I had a profound "dad" moment with Rosalinda.

My two pieces of carry-on luggage were packed and lined up against the wall under the large windows that each morning let our bedroom flood with sunlight filtered through the stand of mature mango, avocado, and palm trees just outside our temporary home. On top of one bag I had placed a notebook-sized portfolio containing my itinerary and other travel-related papers. Inside the portfolio, Rosalinda had secretly placed a note. 

She had folded it in half, then in half again, then in half once more. On the outside it was addressed "Para: Papá De: Rosa" and sealed with "Te Quiero" which means "I love you." I unfolded and read the message Rosa wanted me to travel with. She again told me she loved me, that I was a good dad, and that she had always wanted to have a dad like me.

Adoption begins with a leap, is measured in small methodical steps, takes many turns, and ends in an embrace. I have carried my daughter's note with me everyday, folded in my wallet and forever in my heart. "Rosalinda, tú eres mi hija y te amo. Papá." 

On the road to Masaya from Managua, Rosalinda quietly busied herself with pen and paper. She wrote. She drew. She doodled. Rebeca had fallen asleep against her. We've since discovered that Rebeca can't seem to stay awake while riding in a car, regardless of how short the ride, crowded the backseat, or hot the day. 

Happy to escape the capital city's busyness, Stacy and I quietly appreciated the views of the Nicaraguan countryside. We were heading out on our first family outing which included a visit to Parque Nacional Volcán Masaya. It was called "La Boca del Infierno" or "The Mouth of Hell" by the Spanish who in the 16th century placed a cross at the active volcano's crater lip to exorcise the Devil. 

Our compact Toyoto Yaris strained as we climbed the mountain toward the volcano's viewing area. Stacy barely noticed as Rosalinda took her hand and began gently writing something on her open palm. In a minute Rosalinda was done. She had simply written, "MOM." 

The moment left Stacy feeling very tender. She says It was as though she had been "claimed and named" by Rosalinda. "She chose me. I am 'MOM.' Mom to Rosalinda." Stacy recognizes that moment as marking a beginning, "it was our first day as mother and daughter." Rosalinda's simple act left her in awe and took Stacy to an even deeper level of commitment. For that she is incredibly thankful, honored, and humbled.

There are precious few defining moments in a relationship. Even the seemingly small ones can be powerful and everlasting.

I grew up a military brat, more specifically, an Air Force brat. My early claim to fame (so I've been told) was being the first boy born at the new hospital on Dover Air Force Base. Supposedly, my mom beat the odds and won $50 from the OB nurses (seems all previous births had been girls). We lived for a short time in Lewes Beach, Delaware, a quiet coastal town connected to New Jersey by the Cape May Ferry. 

Like most military families, we didn't stay long in any one place. Dad was transferred to Wright Patterson AFB in Ohio, Cigli Air Station in Izmir, Turkey, Langley AFB in Tidewater Virginia, and Andrews AFB in Maryland. Being good troopers, we fell in line behind the Colonel and marshaled on.

Stacy grew up a nomad as well. She was a computer brat (yes, a made up term). Her dad was there during the halcyon days of office computing, when computers filled entire rooms and the United States landed a man on the moon using the total computing power of a five-function pocket calculator. 

Various sales positions with companies such as Singer and IBM moved them from Cherry Hill (NJ) to Cincinnati to Moraga (CA) to Atlanta. Stacy's family finally settled in Houston where her dad opened his own computer company just before the dawn of personal computers.

Houston is where Stacy and I would meet, fall in love, and get married--all in very short order. In our first 12½ years of marriage we moved from Houston to Stockton, CA to Brea, CA to San Antonio to Austin to Chicago. We would often joke that after six months in a new place we longed for the smell of corrugated cardboard and the sound of box tape! 

During the second 12½ of marriage we have lived in one house on one street in one community in West Michigan. Our friends who visit from other cities call East Grand Rapids "Norman Rockwellville." Truly it is a great place to live and an even greater place to raise a family. Very soon it will be the new home of little Rebeca and Rosalinda. 

We expect that the transition will be overwhelming at times for the girls. Stacy and I can kind of empathize. On a much smaller scale and for a much shorter time, we have been transported to and transplanted in an unfamiliar country that has a unique culture where people speak another language. New smells, tastes, sights, sounds, etc. It's not bad... just different.

If our short time here has convinced us of anything, it's that our girls need to experience Nicaragua (their current home) before beginning a life in the United States (currently our home). Moreover, we know that our three biological children need to visit the homeland of their sisters. I fly home soon but plan to come back with Kate and Sam in May, joining Stacy and the girls closer to the time the adoption is hopefully finalized. 

Our oldest, Ryan, already spent a week with us here in Nicaragua over his spring break. The night before he returned to Miami, he commented that his stay here was different than taking a vacation. A big reason was the time he spent in the orphanage with his little sisters and the other children. Ryan played the role of big brother well, demonstrating the patience of Job and the playfulness of Tigger. Another reason was that he lived, shopped, conversed, and (most importantly) ate "como Nica."

Stacy and I have agreed that we must come back as a family, early and often. We can easily see ourselves spending a month here each year or every other year. We love the people, the culture, the land, the history, and the food. Most importantly, part of our family is from here and that makes it a little part of all of us. 

Stacy and I were up and out of the guesthouse a little past seven. 

We chatted anxiously with our attorney as she negotiated Managua's morning rush hour traffic. We were heading to our first appointment in what would turn out to be a very full first day. None of us really knew what the next few hours would bring. We only knew that we had been brought together for just such a day.

Of course there was much excitement... three and a half years of waiting and wondering, hoping and praying will do that to you.

We passed large buses and smaller "expresos" packed tightly with workers making their way downtown. Motorcycles and scooters zipped on either side of us creating extra lanes of traffic. After a half an hour the bigness of the city gave way to smaller neighborhoods. Little stores (tiendas) dotted the sidewalks. The narrow, congested streets were lined on both sides with uniform-clad children walking to school (public not private we were told).

Arriving on time, we parked in front of the agency that was handling our adoption. Stacy and I said a prayer before stepping out to follow our attorney through the gates and inside. Everyone was very professional and gracious. They seemed like people who took their jobs seriously which we appreciated because their work is vitally important. We did notice that the area with the most activity was a closet-sized room off reception that housed the coffeemaker. It appears that the start of the business day ritual is without borders.

We were introduced to several members of the staff including the new executive director. About 8:15 the person assigned to our case greeted us in a warm business-like manner. She held our case file against her chest like a mother holding a baby. The legal-sized folder was easily four inches thick and as we made our way to the cars she commented that everything about us and about our girls was contained inside. How many hands had its contents passed through? How many sets of eyes had scanned its pages? How many signatures had been required and stamps needed just to get us to this morning? Yes, senora, hold onto it tightly because we are so close now.

"That seemed to go well," we said back in the car. Some short introductions, a few pleasantries, and then instructions on how the next few hours were to go. The ride to where the girls lived took about 45 minutes. Leaving Managua proper we went further and further into the interior.

Along the way we talked about the length of the process and the theological virtue of "patient endurance." Only that morning could we more fully appreciate how our hearts had been prepared during this time of anticipation and hoping. We shared an experience we'd just had at Ada Bible the Sunday before leaving for Nicaragua. In his teaching from Genesis that morning, Jeff talked about Joseph's excruciatingly long imprisonment. He said that your faith is either forged or dashed during times such as these. We were humbled by how Joseph's faith was strengthened to the point where he was able to serve and offer comfort to others despite his own pain and suffering. After more than a decade as a prisoner, Joseph fully expected to be released after interpreting the cupbearer's dream. But he was forgotten and remained in prison a full two years more.

During the sermon Jeff used as one of his examples, "almost adopting." He also used the term "resolution." While both had special meaning to Stacy and me, the latter was of special significance since this was the actual term used to describe the critical judgment we had just received from Nicaragua that allowed us to meet and be with our girls. It was just one more word of confirmation that told us, "Go, until or unless you hear a no."

The last few miles of the journey led us through narrow and deeply rutted, dirt roads. We came to a walled off compound with large metal gates. Inside were our girls. They had also been waiting a long time for us. And their hearts too had been prepared. "Mama y Papa!"

O Lord, You are my God; I will exalt You, I will give thanks to Your Name; For You have worked wonders, plans formed long ago in perfect faithfulness! Isaiah 25

Stacy and I met our two little girls yesterday. It was a very emotional day for everyone but I can tell you that many prayers were answered, both in the U.S. and here in Nicaragua. We are heading back to the center now so I must run. Stacy and I promise a detailed post in the next 24 hours. Thanks for following and keeping our entire family in your thoughts and prayers.    

Day 1,255

I recognize that many of you have been "walking the trail" with Stacy and me for some time. It's hard to express how much your support, encouragement, and prayers have meant to us over the last three years, five months, and six days.

This morning we heard from our attorney in Nicaragua that we have been granted a "resolution" in our case. While this may sound like just legalese (legal speak), to us it resounded like a choir of angels.

With a resolution in hand our adoption of 8- and 5-year-old sisters has entered its final stage. Very soon we'll be in Managua meeting Rosalina and Rebeca for the first time (yes, we were finally given their names!).

As you can imagine, there is still much to do. We are now operating in hyperdrive. Our plan is to keep you appropriately informed during this final phase via blogs, twitter, social networks, etc.

For anyone interested in our adoption back-story, I have tried to summarize below. Stacy and I encourage you to freely share your comments and questions.

Separate Paths

Stacy has wanted to adopt since she was five years old.

It happened innocently enough. Stacy and her older sister had crossed the street from their family's apartment in downtown Cincinnati. As they walked down the sidewalk Stacy noticed children playing behind a tall, chain linked fence. One little girl in particular came up to the fence, stared at them for a moment, and then turned and ran away.

Later back in their apartment, Stacy asked her mother, "Who are those children across the street? Is that a school?" "No that's not a school," she replied, "it's an orphanage." She went on to explain, "The children over there do not have a mom and dad like you do. They're called 'orphans' and all live together in that big building until being adopted into new families."

"So, can we adopt one?"

My story is quite a bit different from Stacy's. After my parents were told that they couldn't have biological children, they adopted an older sibling group of three. Many years later, however, they did conceive-- first me, then my little brother. So the couple that overnight became a family of five soon became a family of seven. Fun times! To be honest, I still will joke, "we learned how to put the 'fun' in dysfunctional."

Growing up as I did, adoption seemed no big deal. I can't even recall when I first learned that my older siblings were adopted. It may have first registered with me when I saw the episode on "My Three Sons" when Ernie was adopted into the family.

Bottom line, I never felt a desire to adopt.

Coming Together

Stacy and I were sitting one Sunday in the grey chairs at Mars Hill in Grandville, Michigan. Rob had just finished introducing a pastor from a church in Johannesburg, South Africa whose name was both a joy and challenge to say. In fact, we "practiced" saying it together as part of our corporate greeting. "Hello Gert (hyŏŏrt), we yelled."

Gert began telling his story in a slow and deliberate fashion. At first I thought he might be a bit intimidated speaking in the round to 4,000+ people. But soon I realized he was probably just taking his time so that no one would miss a message he'd traveled more than 8,000 miles to deliver. I appreciated that Gert's cadence helped slow down my spirit and his guttural Afrikaan accent required me to listen more intently.

What I didn't realize was that his message would change us forever.

Gert's personal "journey" started when he was a 47-year-old husband and father of three. His South African church, Mosaiek, had just started an orphanage for children impacted by HIV/AIDS. Some were infected or had parents or family members infected. Some were orphaned.

He explained that as the holidays approached, the orphanage began temporarily placing the children with church families to give the regular caregivers a break. Gert's wife, Karin, and her ministry team were successful placing all the children except one, a frail little boy named Gary who was HIV positive and dying. Gert described how Gary's legs were no larger than his own fingers.

So one day Karin asked Gert if they could care for Gary in their home. Emphatically, Gert said, "No" and reminded her that they too needed a holiday break. However, over the next week Karin came back strong and this time their children had joined their mother to plead Gary's case. Gert lovingly described Karin's persistence as "nagging" and asked us if we had such a term here in our country. Resigned to the fact that his family was never going to let up, Gert agreed to take Gary in for the holiday.

Gert then began describing a moment he had shared early on with Gary. He called it their "deep connecting" experience. My notes in church that morning recorded it this way:

"He was staring at me. We were in an 'eye-lock.' It was as if he was sending me an 'eye-mail.' There was deep sorrow, this child was crying out for help. We were in a high and deep level of discussion and he was saying to me, 'I have no hope. I am alone. I have no home. No family. No money. No health.'"

Then Gert said he felt as though God had joined Gary and him in the conversation. And he heard God say to him, "Gert, I am not asking you to sacrifice a child because I have already done that for you. I am just asking that you receive this child in my name." And at that moment Gert said, "Yes." He looked at Gary and made this promise, "Yes I will take you in as my son and receive you into my life."

Gert shared a picture of his son on a bike, leaning over the handlebars and smiling widely. He looked to be about four years old. Remarkably, Gert said Gary was now HIV negative and that the doctors have told them he would no longer need to be tested for HIV/AIDS.

Beyond his improved physical health, Gary may be following in his father's pastoral footsteps. Gert ended his time with us recalling how Gary came into their living room one morning and insisted Gert sit down so that they could "have church." Stepping on a small overturned box, Gary with arms sweeping, preached this message: "God is life. Jesus gives life. The Lord brings life." Then he closed with, "Church over dadda... you can go now. Amen"

And soon after that our church ended as well, we were dismissed. But as people around us filed out, Stacy and I just sat in our seats. While I was incredibly moved by Gert's testimony, she didn't realize its full impact on me. I leaned in and showed Stacy what I had scribbled down at the end of the message, something I was sure she had just said to me, "It's time." But Stacy had not said a thing.

Those two words told Stacy my heart had been changed, truly broken. What was so amazing is that Stacy had prayed for such a change in me for many years. But only recently her prayer had changed to, "Father, your will be done" after having been given John 1:11 which speaks of children "born of God" and not of a "husband's will."

Through tears Stacy said to me, "I cannot go through my whole life without doing this." Like Gert, at age 47 after more than 20 years of marriage and with three children, my emphatic "no" had become an undeniable "yes."

So on September 25, 2005 we began this adoption journey together.

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