An Unexpected, Full Quiver – Katie’s Story

I’ve always wanted a big family. Okay, well, originally I thought that meant four kids. When I was in high school I felt God distinctly tell me that He would call me to adopt someday. Those feelings were solidified when I met my husband, Tim, and he felt the same way too. After we married, we said that we would have four or five kids, but joked that we would have ten or twelve. Our first, a daughter, was born in 2007 and I just loved being pregnant. I knew then that I could happily carry and birth four or five more, if God allowed. We named her Selah, which means to “pause” or “meditate,” and I adored being able to do just that as a mother to my little girl.

What I never anticipated was having trouble conceiving or sustaining pregnancies after Selah. We began trying for our second little angel the year after she was born, but instead, had three back-to-back miscarriages over the next year. By the time Selah was three years-old and all the rest of my mommy friends were pregnant with or already having their second and third babies, I began to despair, thinking that our hopes and dreams of having a large family were quickly dwindling.

We tried fertility treatments next and it was at this time that Tim and I also began to seriously consider adoption. We researched the costs, different agencies and countries to adopt from. I became so certain that adoption would probably be where the rest of our children would come from that I was surprised when we found out at the end of 2009 that the fertility treatments had worked and we were expecting a healthy baby boy. Elijah, meaning “The Lord is the one, true God,” joined our family in May of 2010 and I was overjoyed to have another sweet little one in my arms.

After Elijah was born, we looked into adoption again, but decided that we needed to wait for more consistent finances. I took the next year to enjoy motherhood and it wasn’t until the middle of 2011 that we felt confident in beginning the process of adoption when Tim’s job was more secure. We had just signed the official adoption paperwork, requesting to adopt a sibling group from Ethiopia, when we were surprised to find out we were expecting, AGAIN, this time without the help of fertility treatments! In April of 2012, we welcomed Isaac, which means “laughter” because of the huge surprise he gave us.

We knew we still wanted those two African children, though, whoever they would be, and we eagerly looked forward to word from our agency and dreamed of whom they would match us with. Selah hoped for a younger sister to play with and Tim and I tossed around what Old Testament names we would use once we got the news. But time seemed to drag on and with each passing week without word from our agency, we grew anxious. Finally, in January of 2013, just nine months after our surprise Isaac was born, we were matched with twin boys only five months younger than him. They were born in Harar, Ethiopia the previous September and then moved to an orphanage in Addis, Ethiopia.

In April, we flew to Addis and spent ten days meeting and holding our sweet, new additions to the family, touring the country and even taking a bus to visit Harar, 500 kilometers away from the boys’ new orphanage. By July, at ten months old, they were legally ours and we flew back to Addis and brought home Moses and Zechariah, which mean “drawn out” and “God has remembered.”

For years, we had prepared ourselves from agency classes, social worker visits and numerous books and resources that the biggest struggle of international adoption would be teaching these children how to bond with us as parents and siblings. However, their connection with all of us was as instant as if I had carried and born them myself.  Instead, it seemed to us that the biggest adjustment to adopting twins less than one years-old was that because Isaac was only five months older, we essentially have triplets. And since the twins were adjusting to a new home, new parents and a new routine than they were used to in their orphanage, it was much like having newborns again. They were up every three hours at night, often on opposite schedules. And once they started crawling and walking, along with Isaac, life only got crazier! Thankfully, our older two, Selah and Elijah, now 7 and 4 have been wonderful, big helpers and we have had many, many dear friends and family step in to help as well.

But, God wasn’t done with our family yet, nor His miraculous, surprising ways. Just when I was beginning to adjust to having four rambunctious and destructive boys, 3 of them under two years-old, we had another surprise pregnancy in January of 2014. We found out that we were expecting TWINS a month later and a few weeks after that, the ultrasound showed that they were BOTH boys. I grieved this news for a short time, but God continued to bring me new mercies each morning.

Our precious new set of twins arrived via caesarian section on September 14, 2014. Noah Robert and Josiah Paul, our smallest babies yet, weighed in at 7 and 5 pounds, respectively. Their arrival meant that as an entire family we could no longer fit in our eight passenger minivan and we are bursting at the seams in our 3 bedroom, 1 bath 1200 square foot home. However, this past summer, God provided Tim with a significant and long prayed-for promotion at work, which allowed us to get approved for a loan on a new, 2015 Ford Transit nine-passenger van. He has also blessed us with a large community of family, friends and even strangers who want to help us with meals, housecleaning, childcare as well as the remodeling to expand our small house to accommodate our large family!

We are amazed at God’s gift of seven children in seven years, and it has opened our eyes to become aware of our need for Jesus, family, friends and our church to help us. He has blessed us with the chance to experience and embrace the most beautiful picture of community and the powerful testimony of His provision as we open the doors of our lives, hearts and home to experience His grace, “do life” together, and raise this pack of children with the help and love of a multitude of others. And while I cannot even remember what life was like just seven years ago with only one baby girl, God’s grace and goodness has been abundant, and we continue to trust that He will provide for all our needs.

~~~~~

Made to Mother is partnering with the Evans Project to fundraise and build enough support to be able to help expand Tim and Katie Evans’s home and assist in funding the purchase of their new family car. For years Tim and Katie have played a huge part in and blessed the lives of so many people. They have opened their home and lives to everyone who has needed or asked for help. We now see this as an opportunity to give back to them that blessing, as we donate our own time and resources and ask others for help in supporting this family.

If you would like to learn more about the Evans Project, please visit the Evans Project Page for more information and to donate. 100% of your donations will go directly to the Evans family. Thank you so much for supporting this loving, godly family and being a part of the amazing work that God continues to do through them!

Now I Value Life – Guest Post by Jacqueline at Deep Roots At Home

There are days when I struggle to be the 60-plus-year-old mother of three active and involved young adults, aged 21, 21, and 23, but as my husband and I look back over what the Lord has done, we marvel at God’s grace and mercy! We can’t imagine life without these young people!
There is great joy in what the Lord has done for us…for you see, we were married for 19 years before we had the blessing of a child! The reason? We had not obeyed God’s commands, and we suffered consequences that would reach over many years. In some ways, those consequences still continue today, though forgiven.
I will tell you the sad story.
The early 50s, when we grew up, saw increasing prosperity. After the terrors and hardships of WWII, families in the U.S. were focused on getting that new dishwasher, television, and maybe, even two cars. Women were leaving home for the job market in record numbers to have the extras.

Then in the 60s and 70s, rebellion and ‘free love’ on college campuses exploded onto the scene. Most parents were totally unprepared to deal with it all, and thus, by default, didn’t. Busy with earning a living, many parents were out of touch with the social pressures their young people faced, the anti-God stance in schools, and the growing fractures between generations.

My husband and I both had parents who loved us, but their generation generally did not find it easy (or were unaware of the need) to discuss deeper issues with their young people.
While on campus, we ‘married’ ourselves (without family or friends) in a chapel before ‘God’ on the I.U. Bloomington campus, and I lived in the frat house from Thursday to Sunday night. Life was all partying or studying. This was not at all abnormal during those years (’69-73) in the middle of the sexual revolution, the Vietnam War, Woodstock, and the devaluation of life with the Roe V. Wade decision (1973).
Immediately out of nursing school, my boyfriend (now my husband of 40 years) and I lived together as did many, but certainly not all, of our classmates. We finally did get properly married, much to my mother’s relief. We were 21 and 22.
Upon graduation as an RN, I worked in open-heart surgery at a large metropolitan hospital. Occasionally, when there was a need for extra personnel in the abortion clinic of that hospital, I would be called on to assist as were other surgical nurses. Even after being raised in a private Christian school environment (and calling myself a Christian), I was unable to apply the things I studied in my catechism class to real life decisions. I was for all practical purposes “dead in my trespasses and sins.”
“And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience.” Ephesians 2: 1
I am ashamed to say that we had an abortion several years into our marriage. We had bought into the worldly view of living for ourselves, careers, money, and things.
Two decisions forever changed the direction of my life: first, breaking God’s protective commands regarding the sacredness of marriage (having sex before marriage) and second, disregarding the sanctity of life (participating in and having an abortion). I didn’t know it would affect my health, my fertility in years to come, or undermine our own self-respect or our respect for each other.
Nevertheless, God faithfully lead us to a solid Bible-believing church, and I finally accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior at 29. By this time, I was really suffering emotionally. The pain got my attention. You can’t tell me that abortion doesn’t mess you up! I had already had several miscarriages and knew there were other things wrong. The worst were flashbacks to assisting in a surgical abortion one day at the hospital where I found a perfect, tiny hand less than the size of a dime stuck to the side of my gloved hand. It is terrible to remember it. I ran out of the OR and refused to go back. It has taken years for those scars to heal. I learned the value of human life in a split second. It wasn’t tissue to me anymore; it was a baby!
Now slowly my perspective changed. My whole being desired to be a mother, to bring forth new life within our marriage and before God. And we could not! Years went by with several more miscarriages. We did two home-studies in order to adopt, one Korean, and one local, but the Lord chose to close the doors. These are stories in themselves…… Many, many people at our church and other friends were praying for us.
After 8 years of pursuing medical help to conceive (Clomid and surgeries for endometriosis), and then 4 years off, I got a call from a surgeon I worked with who told me about a new procedure called GIFT (gamete intra-fallopian transfer). I was working nights, 7 days a week, to afford the earlier procedures since insurance wouldn’t pay for infertility treatment. I felt the clock ticking the years off my life. After much prayer and many tears, we decided to go ahead. The first GIFT produced 2 tiny hearts beating, seen on an ultrasound at 4+ weeks. One was in the (wrong) fallopian tube, the damaged tube! We had a tubal pregnancy which is dangerous, but both babies failed to grow. It was so discouraging paying over $11,000 and nothing to show for it, but stress and grief and high levels of drugs (Metrodin, Lupron, and Pergonal).
I was determined to continue since there was a 36% chance in those days of delivering a live baby. We were told there was no other way. I clung to the verses of Isaiah 54: 11-15, especially verse 13.

The second attempt went perfectly in every way. Twins! We were SO excited! My middle quickly got big, but in the fourth month I realized I was not growing in measurement. I was getting smaller!

A hastily arranged ultrasound revealed that one of the little lives I carried had died several weeks before. We saw a separate sac with little bones, and were told our second baby might miscarry, too. We were crushed, and I was in anguish. I was guilty of all those earlier years, and just knew I was being punished. I almost forgot about the life within me as I focused on the loss. “Why God?” Satan almost destroyed my joy, except that Jesus is greater! “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5: 8)
Later, even though our other baby would be fine, I felt such frustration because if we didn’t want an only child, we would have to go through another of these uniquely stressful procedures with all the costs, shots, and stress leading up to it. Then once the procedure is over, there is the waiting for that determining ultrasound to give you the news, good or bad!
Having a baby can easily become an idol! I had to get over it so I could focus on having a joyful heart for my husband and new son. It was the will of a loving, sovereign God, and His comforting presence was very real.

“…give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”
1 Thessalonians 5: 18

Finally, the day arrived, and the Lord in His mercy gave us a beautiful, healthy son. My aching arms were filled, and we dedicated him to the King of Kings for His glory! I can’t describe the joy and wonder of it all. We had been married 19 plus years!!

My doctor said I was ‘jump-started’ with all the hormones, so we did a third GIFT to give our new son a little brother or sister. We were blessed with adorable, healthy twins exactly two years later. We praise God for His abundant grace and mercy!

Now I value life!

It has been a long road forgiving myself for assisting in and having an abortion, but I found the Lord has welcoming arms to forgive us when we come to Him in repentance. We are sinners, but by His grace, we have hope…and now can see His guiding hand in it all. Thank You, Lord, for birthing in us new life, spiritually and physically!

“…I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live.” Deuteronomy 30: 19

We have been able to share with our children (appropriately, through time) the curses we had brought upon ourselves. That has protected them, to a large degree, from repeating the same mistakes which we made. It is a blessing to tell them of the mighty things that the LORD has done for us while we were yet in unbelief and of the restoring power found only in trusting Christ Jesus. Today we enjoy a rich relationship with each of our children by the grace of Almighty God. I share this with you to encourage and strengthen YOU that no matter where you find yourself, our gracious God is always at work. Never, never give up hope, dear one.

For 38 years, Jacqueline has been a wife to her husband and a teacher of their children in the home. Now a new season has come, and with the blessing of her husband, she writes on the blog Deep Roots at Home an encouragement to herself and others. (Titus 2: 3-5) How important is this role of speaking into the lives of younger women

Just Wait – Jennifer’s Story

“I will NEVER have children,” I quipped to my husband and our friends standing nearby. Blinking away the tears, I scanned the vacant campsite once more. It was morning and there was still no sign of them anywhere. Where had they gone last night and why hadn’t they come back? The unanswered questions had plagued my mind as I tossed and turned all night and this morning.

Every year on Labor Day weekend our church has a campout at Fort Stevens State Park. Located just south of the city of Astoria, off the Oregon Coast, Fort Stevens offers beach access, hot showers, numerous bike trails and quickly became a favorite spot for many of us. This year my husband David and I had decided to share a campsite with my mom and younger siblings.
Soon after, a familiar bunch of teenage girls arrived and set up camp directly across from us. There were five girls altogether, three of whom I was particularly fond of since I had watched them grow up. In the years that David and I had served as youth leaders in our church’s youth group, we saw them transform from grinning, giggly sixth graders into beautiful, sophisticated young women.
Two of them in particular, Julie and Mindy, were practically like younger sisters to me after we spent several days and nights together earlier in the summer, ministering in Rosarito, Mexico; not to mention the cramped bus we shared, driving there and back. I hadn’t seen much of them since the trip, but now here they were to enjoy the great outdoors and coincidently, freedom from their parents.
We greeted them warmly when they arrived, but before we knew it, they were off again. The girls pitched a medium-sized nylon tent, tossed their belongings inside and hopped in a couple of cars destined for who-knows-where. This proved to be their pattern for the duration of the weekend, but much to our relief, they always returned by nightfall. Always, that is, until that fateful Sunday evening.
With smoke-blurred eyes and stomachs full of gooey s’mores and other “nutritious” camping food, David and I decided to turn in for the night. There was still no sign of the girls. They had left immediately after dinner, accompanied by some boys we didn’t recognize. Surely, they would pull up at any moment, I thought, but something deep inside told me differently. To bide some more time, David and I bundled up and headed through the trails for a night hike, but when we got back we were disappointed to see they had still not returned.
Now it was morning. Willing away the exhaustion from a sleepless night, I fumbled to get my shoes on and peered outside. Not a single car was parked in their site. “Darn,” I sighed and began to pray – and – worry even more for their safe return.
The day trudged on as we packed our gear and tidied up the place. By now other church members were aware of the situation and they checked in with us periodically. Eventually, our pastor drove up, concern clouding his graying eyes. He stretched his arms around David and me, embracing us firmly and encouraging us to go on home. “I’ll contact the girls’ parents and stay until they’re found,” he reassured us. David nodded and, placing his arm delicately around my trembling shoulders, he coaxed me in to the car. Everyone else had already left; we were exhausted and knew that we would have to go in to work the next morning.
“Kids are NOT an option,” I stated again on the ride home. “These aren’t even my children, yet my stomach is knotted with distress!”
Later that evening the phone rang. A familiar and guilt-ridden voice was on the other end, apologizing for the girls’ tardiness and irresponsible behavior. It was Julie.
“We were too drunk to drive back,” she explained. “We certainly didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Are the others all right?” I questioned abruptly.
“Yes, fine, except that we’re all grounded for life!” she exclaimed.
“Well, serves you right,” I retorted, half-chuckling, but so relieved to finally hear her voice. I thanked her and God for the good news and climbed in to bed. I did not feel well. Not only with a headache but a bit of nausea; both of which I attributed to the past days’ stressful events.
But the next day, even after a good night’s sleep, I felt just as awful. So, after requesting a sick day from work, I turned to David and asked him to get me some things from the store. Jotting a few items down, I folded the note and deposited it in his pocket.
When he returned from the store, the expression on his face told me that he had bought all the things I requested. A few minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom, my face glowing but streamed with tears. I placed the positive pregnancy test in his palm and crumpled to the ground. He followed my lead.  Our eyes were glued on those two little lines, certain that one would fade away. But it didn’t.
Once the numbness and shock wore off, we dialed up everyone we could think of with the incredible, wonderful news. And just a few short months later, we called the same roster of family and friends, again, to alert them this time that we were expecting twins, and both girls, no less!

Our twin girls, Breanna Rose and Rebecca Renee, are teenagers now with a younger brother and a preschool sister. Raising these children has become my greatest joy and my greatest challenge. The four of them fill my days with endless wonder, and whether I’m snickering at their childish antics or sobbing with exhaustion at the day’s end, I don’t regret a minute I spend with them. All I can say now is that God must have been softly chuckling to Himself when He heard my ironic proclamations of remaining childless. “Oh, just wait,” He must have said to the angels with a twinkle in His eye, “just wait.”