I didn’t take the red eye home; my eyes are just still red from a whole lot of connecting at Created for Care this weekend. This morning, I frantically searched my purse for my car keys…while sitting in the driver’s seat with the engine running. That’s how tired I am yet today from super late nights and lots of chatting it up with kindred spirits.

Such good stuff though it didn’t start out so good.

Got into Atlanta from Philly Thursday evening and was greeted by Samantha and her daughter Hannah who were local chics who had volunteered to be our chauffeurs. Made us feel all VIP and stuff…until I got a message in the car from the woman who I had invited to join us as a VIP who was waiting for us in baggage claim (40 minutes back at the airport).

That’s right. Despite the fact that she is the cutest mom ever, I forgot that a month earlier I offered to have her join us…and she was left at the airport. (clear throat) I left her at the airport.

Welcome to Altanta, friend. Now, get your own ride. Not my finest moment.

As I fretted in the car and called everybody I could think of who might be able to pick her up, she called her roomies who had arrived earlier and they jumped right in the car to go get her. So, she didn’t stay at the Atlanta airport all weekend. And, I made sure I found her as soon as she arrived so that I could give her a hug and sleep a little easier that night. Lucky for me she was gracious in addition to being cute.

Once I was able to hold my head up again, God used pretty much every minute of the weekend to bless and encourage me.

In the first rush of arrivals, a mama came up to introduce herself and thanked me for how we serve adoptive families. She pulled out a picture of the precious little one waiting for her to bring her home from China and told me we played a part in that through the grant we gave their family. Another mom showed me pictures of her open house where she used the jewelry we offer for families to use to fundraise for their adoptions. She thanked me and wanted me to know that there were real families being blessed by what we do. It was like the smiles of a newborn baby right there in front of me–just when you think you’re exhausted and wondering how much longer you can keep on keeping on, that newborn smiles at you and somehow the thought of serving seems more of a blessing to you than anyone else. Yeah, that’s what those women were like for me.

The conversations shared around our tables. The late night slumber parties where we shared a lot of laughter and a few tears. Wrestling over who God is and how we should view adoption in light of who He is along with other mamas who love Him. Dreaming with other women about the ministry He has set before us. Being poured into and blessed by adoptive mothers who have done this thing and gone before us and want to walk with us. Worshipping together with a spirit-filled leader and hearing 450 women’s voices fill the room as an offering to the One who brought our families together and all of us together at that moment.

That’s good stuff. 

I ran on home ready to do this thing called motherhood and ministry with renewed energy–and was met with hugs and flowers when I arrived. In my heart, I’m already committed to next year, just not committing to getting anyone else from the airport just yet…and maybe never.

If you were there too, I want to read your thoughts and see your pictures and keep that encouragement coming.

I think the only phone conversations I had ever had recorded were recorded for quality control. That, however, is no longer true.

Because of my “Desperately Seeking Birthmother” post, Rebecca Vahle of Parker Adventist Hospital’s Family to Family program (who recently made some small but significant changes in their training) invited me to join her on this weeks Adoption Perspectives radio program. Pretty neat, huh?

The kids were all abuzz about it. As they got out of the car for school at drop-off, I reminded them to pray for me at about 2:15 (and to be super quiet when they got home at 3:25 since my call was due to go until 3:30). I’m assuming that “don’t be weird” is a 6-year-old’s version of “break a leg.”

Lydia actually napped without any real coercion, so the house was quiet thankfully. Miraculously, the kids made it home in record time, reportedly running home and entering on tippy toes in hopes of eavesdropping on the air. But, I had just finished up to their disappointment.

It was super fun to do and, hopefully, I wasn’t all that weird. If you want to hear it for yourself, they tell me folks can listen online on KLTT at 1pm EST on Saturday. A link to it should be up next week on Parker Adventist Hospital’s site too if you are out and about Saturday and still wanna have a listen at some point.

I wrote something up last week. It wasn’t something I worked real hard to plan, just sort of rattled off about my own fail and what I had learned and hit “publish.”

I wasn’t expecting the response to it over the following few days–the ones that moved me the most were from women who had children they were not parenting–the birth mothers themselves.

Monday morning, 3 days after my post went up, I got a message on Facebook thanking me for my post and directing me to this status update from Parker Adventist Hospital in Colorado which included a link to my post:

At Parker Hospital, we just changed all our guidelines to discuss “patients pursuing an adoption plan” not how to care for “Birthmoms”- A woman is not the “Birthmom” to a child until she makes her decision final. We are working on shifting our words to reflect more accurately her decision process. This blog defines it well…

Forget popsicles for breakfast—that’s the way to start a day. I was so excited–not because of any glory to me because it wasn’t my blog post, my overthinking that led to that major policy change. No, no. It was the voices that went before me, the passionate ones who shared with the policy makers the same message over and over again and felt like they were banging their heads against the wall. They said, “nothing I do makes any difference,” “I don’t know why I try,” “This isn’t worth my effort.” But, seeds were planted and started to take root. I just got to be a part of the last step, the one that ushered in change.

That’s how you become an agent of change for whatever it is you are passionate about. You just keep on keeping on, long obedience in the same direction, even when it seems like it isn’t doing a thing. Your success as a change agent isn’t about an immediate response to your initiative; it’s not really anything about you. It’s just about doing what you are supposed to do and having others do the same. 

In response to all the comments on Parker Hospital’s Facebook page, the hospital itself responded:

spread the word – raise the bar for all hospitals, demand they educate their nursing staff and update their policies to reflect current practice! Know an OB nurse? CEO of a hospital a family friend? Ask them about their hospital’s protocol and how it embraces all parties involved! Point them to Parker Hospital . . . we would love to share this model with other hospitals!

It was the advocates for women considering adoption who went before me. It was my simple act of writing about my own fail and lesson learned. It was the people who read my simple words and shared them. It was the policy makers at the hospital who are now change agents themselves. Change begets change.