God's Perfect Timing

My Blog Has Moved

2013-10-17T22:12:00.002-04:00

My blog has a new look and home at:

emergingmama.com

Come over. Chime in. Emerge with me....

Peace and Joy,
M

With A Thankful Heart

2013-03-06T15:56:00.003-05:00

My heart has been overflowing with thanks lately.

There are so many people: family, friends, pastors, small group members, neighbors, complete strangers, casual acquaintances, divinely appointed run-ins, etc. that I owe a great deal of thanks to. To be sure, I thank God for each of you daily. I cannot even begin to name names, because it is probably each and every person reading this and then some. However, every one has played a part in the transformation that continues to occur in our hearts and in our family. The undeserved love, support, encouragement, discipling, and accountability that so many of you have shown me and my family over the past few years humbles me and reminds me each day that God intends for us to work not only individually, but communally. In fact, I believe God intends way more of the latter and less of the former. It is because of our wonderful community, locally, virtually, and globally, that we have been able, to the best of our abilities, to be faithful to God's will for our lives. Without that love and support, we probably would have been frozen at the starting gate...fearful to take that first step.

However, with your love and support, we can continually tell God, "Bring it! Send us! Pick me!" For that, we are extremely grateful and thankful to each of you. I sincerely mean that. I know that without your love and encouragement, our family would look completely different. And, if our (imperfect, flawed, goofy, quirky) family encourages just one person to step out of her or his comfort zone and say, "If they can do it, so can I" my heart will be content. To be honest though, I wish that many more people would step out of their boats and into the wind and waves with Jesus. The world is so very broken, desperately hurting, and in urgent need of Good News. The Good News that Jesus himself demonstrated in the flesh and asks each of His followers to embody for the world. It is so much fun out here, friends! It's a messy kind of fun where you are not sure where you are going, but absolutely know you are on the right path. That is my wish for each and every one of you. That you ask God how God wants to use your life and then allow him to do so. Just as you have all encouraged us, I guarantee you that others, including myself, will flock to your side to cheer you on. Pinky promise!

I want to thank all of you, for helping me realize that my purpose in life has nothing to do with me and everything to do with God and God's will and intent for my life and the life of each person in our home. From the depths of my heart, I would like to thank, in no particular order: family and friends, prayer warriors, justice supporters, be-the-church folks, do-the-gospel folks, garage-sale organizers, clothing and item donators, local church leaders and friends, rambling-phone-call-listeners, local homeless friends, 24-7 adoption community support networks, seminary professors and community, jokesters, live-in-the-mintuers, dive into the Worders, etc. etc.

To be honest, I am not completely sure where God is taking us in this next chapter, but am happy to be at cruising altitude for the time being. We are cruising with a full plate and frequent turbulence; yet, God still whispers, "Be prepared. You are on the journey of your life!" What I do know for certain is that we are not the same people we were just three short years ago. God stretched and pruned and refined and grew us into new creations who are on a mission, God's mission, to use each and every day to the fullest for God's glory. We are all created by God and for God, and it's only in God and God's purpose for our lives that each of us will find the peace we so desperately seek.

I love each of you. Thank you so much for being part of our lives and sharing yourself with us. Now, if anyone is free to help me paint our living room this weekend, please let me know. Food and beverage will be provided. :-)

"By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." -John 13:35

Photo Credit

Deemed An Unfit Parent

2013-02-20T16:09:00.002-05:00

Photo Credit

This should have come as no surprise. They found me unfit.

I knew the "rules" and I had broken them. Most people do break them, you know. However, some maintain proper documentation while breaking the "rules" and I, on the other hand, let my paperwork expire years ago. Many years ago. On purpose, for that matter. Their so-called "rules" seemed silly to me. Not all of the "rules", to be sure, and I certainly did not find the people silly. I loved the people. The institution, however, rubbed me the wrong way. So, I did what many have since chosen to do and left in search of a different expression. But either way, I broke the rules, my papers expired, and for that, they deemed me unfit.

Really though, this should not have come as a surprise in the least. I know how they operate. I could have produced 'falsified' documents as many, many do but that is not my style. What would be the point? My own mother, who had faithfully followed all of the "rules" up until her final days on earth was nearly deemed unfit for a "proper burial." The Roman Catholic church where she devoted her entire adult life almost denied her the necessary "flags" to enter the cemetery where she was to be buried when they found out {GASP!!} that a Methodist hospice minister...and a woman at that...would be conducting her funeral {hold your breath} outside of a Catholic church. In the days following my mother's death, I actually listened as the Catholic priest yelled at the funeral director (unbiased third party) for allowing a non-Catholic woman to conduct the funeral. How sad. How very, very sad.

So, when the Catholic church told my sister that I was unfit to become my nephew's Godmother at his baptism, although being very upset, I was not surprised. Never mind that I have devoted my life to Christ and seek to follow in Christ's footsteps in thought, word, and deed on a daily basis. Never mind that practicality. The Catholic church wanted a letter stating that I was a practicing Catholic.

Soapbox Alert: What I wanted was a letter from the Catholic church telling me what exactly a practicing Catholic looks like. New flash: your practicing Catholics very well might not be practicing Catholics. BUT, they have a letter and I don't.)

Well, unless a letter from 1995 counts, I am out of the running. Would a letter from my seminary count? How about a letter from the pastor of my current church? What if I provided a document detailing my sacramental theology? N.O.P.E. None of that will work, silly girl. It's Catholic or bust, don't you remember? Oh, right...how could I forget?!

Honestly though, this doesn't make me angry as much as it makes me sad. The Body of Christ, that is, all Christians in the church universal, is supposed to operate collectively. We are supposed to be one body in this world. Yet, we are fragmented from here to the moon...and back. And because of that, our impact in the world is lessened. No, even more than that, because of our fragmented organization and broken body, we are neglecting to bring the full force of God's kingdom to earth. Our energy and loyalty is divided. We often care more about being right than being love. Could you imagine what we could accomplish if we were to set aside our polity, politics, and differences in interpretation and instead choose to incarnate Christ in the world? Can you imagine? What a difference we could make.

If Jesus was here today, would he really care about a piece of paper or would he just want me to profess my commitment to him and to care for this child in the event that his parents could not. When looked at that way, can we possibly see why so many are choosing to leave mainline denominations or the church in general? If we can't get our act together internally (and collectively), how on earth (literally) are others supposed to find Christ in us? I pray that we, the church, realize the potential and beauty in unity and diversity. Our differences can actually make us stronger and more unified, if we could just learn to appreciate them and embrace them. There is only one God, right? Paul hits this topic dead-on in his letter to the church in Ephesus. Perhaps the church today, more than ever, needs this reminder...

Ephesians 4: 3-7

Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. But to each one of us grace has been given as Christ apportioned it.

Through Her Lens

2013-02-19T00:00:00.000-05:00

She has a smile that lights up the room. Her joy emanates and her spirit is contagious. She is smart and strong and witty and funny. She loves Jesus. She shows me Jesus. Through her, I have come to know Jesus more intimately. She is my gift.

Often times, I get lost in her beautiful brown eyes while thanking God for choosing me, for allowing me to be Sassy's mama.

She carries deep scars. Scars that her smile and fun loving personality go to great lengths to mask. And yet, she is only three years old. Some experts try to tell us that young children will forget their early childhood trauma, but I simply do not accept that. No, actually I flat out reject that idea. Her scars are simply woven into her fabric and while God redeems hurts and helps us to grieve forward, some scars become part of one's identity.

But there is someone else that also carries deep scars. A nameless, faceless person I will probably never meet this side of heaven. A person I pray for daily and think of often. I was reminded of that person the other night.

While watching Downton Abbey {Spoiler Alert: stop reading if you have not watched Season 3, Episode 4!} and seeing/feeling/sensing Ethel go through the painful and heart wrenching process of deciding to give up her baby boy, Charlie, for adoption and therefore come to terms with the fact she will never see him again, I simply lost it. Lost! It! I pictured this same scene unfolding in a tiny town in southern Ethiopia. I imagined a person who loved her/his child so very much, who had tried her/his best to love and take care of a child, but simply could not provide for very basic needs. I imagined this person dropping off their child on the streets, a child who was old enough to walk, and then running safely out of sight before crumpling the ground in tears, weighted down with pain, shame, sorrow, and guilt.

No parent or guardian should ever be forced to make that horrid decision, and yet so many are forced to make that exact decision every day. Why? Poverty, injustice, oppression, curable and treatable illnesses, and lack of support systems to name just a few. That is the lens I often view adoption from. Through the eyes of the person forced to make an unthinkable decision. Perhaps that seems depressing, but it is true. That is reality. Adoption would not be necessary on the scale it is today if we (humanity) cared enough about each other to correct major flaws in our global systems. But we would rather carry on with the busyness and distractions in our lives that keep us from addressing some very real needs in our world.

So, when people say our children are "lucky" or "blessed", I certainly understand their sentiment and agree that yes, our children certainly are lucky to have safely arrived to her new family, with the hope of brighter future. However, I think many fail to recognize that in order for adoption to be necessary, something went seriously wrong on the other side of the equation. No parent should ever have to make the decision to give up her child. None. There was no "luck" going on there, that is for sure. Only pain, hopelessness, despair, grief, etc., etc. There was a woman or man so very desperate that they could think of nothing better to do than to abandon a child on the streets. Could you imagine? I cannot. But praise God for opening our eyes to the layers of wrong in our world. Praise God. Their fights are now our fights. Their hurts, ours. Their pain, our pain. We grieve and grow forward, embracing God's plan for our lives while never, not for one second, forgetting the truth.

God speaks through our children's past tragedies to show us his unfailing love, mercy, and compassion. We are blessed, we are the lucky ones. If there is any luck going on at all in this scenario it is that our lives have been gloriously wrecked and forever altered by joining God on his mission to care for the fatherless and seek justice. It is that through our journeys into God's heart, God has given us a purpose and direction that would have been missed had we forfeited the opportunity to grow our family through adoption.

But what about you? Have you figured out what God's purpose if for this chapter in your life? What is God asking you to do? Viewing the world through whose lens breaks your heart? The orphan? The widow? The recovering addict? The homebound? The sick? What it is? Join God there. Say yes.

I'll close with one question and I pray that you spend time in prayer and reflection thinking about this:
Why do you think God has given you more than you need?

Leviticus 19:9
"When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edgesof your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Do not go over your vineyard a second time or pick up the grapes that have fallen. Leave them for the poor and the foreigner. I am the Lord your God."

Balentine's Day Firsts

2013-02-14T11:54:00.000-05:00

Before getting started, I have to say that I am going to miss, more than words can describe, the accents, Amharglish, and translation humor that fills our home most days. I am usually left both cracking up and in awe through the day-to-day routines that demonstrate God's redemptive power in all of us. Yet, it is usually only in hindsight that one can see how far we all have come.

Now, on to Valentine's Day. (Or, Balentine's Day for Big Sister.) If you know me, you will know that I can be really "bah humbuggy" about the way our culture likes to make holidays all about consumerism and consumption. (Which is pretty much every holiday now, right? Buy this. Do that. You can only celebrate properly if you have spent a ton of money. Blah! Bologna!) My radar keenly picks up on how profit motives drive the marketing behind holidays big and small and how something good and pure gets warped into a money making machine. To this, I say "Boo!" However, God has pulled off quite a feat this year. He is softening my heart and showing me how we can celebrate fun days like today AND still keep our love for Him as the motive. That we can participate in the consumerism aspect as little as we'd like and yet still let the spirit of love (of God and neighbor) be present in our interactions. Let me share with you a little about the events of this past week:

The other night, after dreading and dragging my feet, we all sat around the dining room table neatly tearing, folding, signing, and sealing our 125+ valentine's day cards. What I thought would be a nightmare of an event, full of moaning and complaining, and ending with me (mom) having to forge (using my weak hand) 100 signatures on their cards, turned into a joyous evening. Our table was full of love and stories about the friends in their class, why so-and-so will be Larry's favorite valentine (including a specially made double starburst with the hearts facing out gift for her) and why Big Sister will NOT be handing a "your cute" card to so-and-so. Moe was thrilled to be able to write his own name 25 times. I was thrilled that each child happily wrote her or his name on every. single. card. I went to bed that night a little confused, quite perplexed, and full of joy that the simple act of writing cards and sharing stories brought so much happiness to our dining room.

The spirit of love continued throughout the following day and evening as we headed to our Wednesday night church dinner and then to the Ash Wednesday service. The service is a special and reflective time to ask for forgiveness and prepare our hearts and minds for Jesus' death and resurrection. This year, Ash Wednesday just happened to fall the day before valentine's day. I am not sure why, but I kinda liked that. It seemed to bring our family close together. We ended the evening happily, apologized for our shortcomings, and my heart felt content. Strange. I don't usually like these (valentine) holidays. But, it gets better.

This morning, I woke up to beautiful flowers and a card from my husband. Larry (my resident hoarder) told me this: "Mama, valentine's day is not about chocolate or presents. It is about spreading love." Those words, coming out of the mouth of my six year old, made my mama heart explode with joy. But it gets better. I had presented all five children with a small box of chocolates, which I fully expected to turn into a whine fest, full of moaning about why they can't eat the entire box before breakfast. But that didn't happen. Rather, Larry and Moe asked me if they could give their box away. Each box had four pieces of chocolate and they each decided who would get them. On the walk to school, Officer Stacey, our crossing guard was gifted with two pieces. One of the teachers who corrals the students each morning in the cafeteria was gifted two as well. When Moe slipped up and ate half of one of the pieces he wanted to give to his teacher (and after explaining that it would be rude to gift her a half-eaten piece of chocolate), we put some heart shaped cookies in a bag so they could have something to give their teachers. All was good. Or so I thought.

Then, just as I thought we were having the perfect morning, the reality of past hurts crept in. Even though we have been home now for two years, there are deep wounds that resurface from time to time. Scars from her past presented, a life where fear, malnutrition, and starvation were daily realities. When I couldn't find Sassy, I knew immediately what had happened. She had taken her box of chocolates up to her bedroom and was hurriedly shoving them in her mouth. We have come so far toward developing a healthy relationship with food, but there are triggers. There are times when she seems to have so little control over what she is doing. I have seen this so many times. It breaks my heart. She will lie about what just happened. Even though my eyes saw her doing this, when I ask she will look right at me and say, "No. I did not eat the chocolate." I will have to press her at least a half dozen times and explain why we need to tell the truth. Sometimes she will, sometimes she won't. The scars are deep. Through parenting Sassy, God teaches me daily about his patience and grace and love. While God continues his healing and redemptive work in her, he also reminds me and gives me countless opportunities to exercise that same patience and grace toward her and I truly consider this a gift from God.

In all honestly though, this is something I wish I could explain better to others. Yes, Sassy is healthy and thriving and exudes confidence and joy, but underneath there are scars. I think the same can be said for all of us, right? Underneath that mask that we wear in public, at work, at church, in school and in our daily interactions, there are usually some scars from previous life experiences. Scars that while hurt us a great deal, also helped us to grow in other ways. They are part of us, and although I wish I could take away every awful nightmare of an experience our children lived through, I absolutely believe God will use every hurt to help them help others one day. God is a God of new mercies and new beginnings. God redeems all brokenness. God is love.

This year, I am thankful that God softened my heart and showed me how to parent and participate in a fun and loving event that can and will still be centered on Christ. Through the joyous and the painful, God is at work redeeming and loving. Happy Valentine's Day!

Romans 13:10: "Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law."

God's Strength Made Perfect

2013-02-01T13:32:00.001-05:00

"How do you do this?"

I have to admit, I usually just giggle and shrug off that question. It's not that I don't want to answer, it is just that I honestly don't know how to answer it. It is just that unless I really stop to think about it, I am not sure what they are asking...what they are talking about. Do what? What is this?

"I am not doing anything," is really what I want to say. I want to say that, because that is what I truly believe. That might sound strange, but I don't see our family as really doing anything other than what God asks from each of us. That is, to love God and to love each other. Different people express and live out that love in different ways, and we are just living it out the way God asked and continues to ask us.

You see, I like to look at and look to individuals and families who are doing a lot more than we are doing. I actually keep their photos handy (I hope that's not too creepy?!) to look at throughout each day when I feel stressed and frazzled. "Surely so-and-so is stretched more thinly than we are," I say silently for comfort. Plus, I am truly inspired by the radical faith so many 'ordinary' people are embodying. Some have 'sold it all and gone.' Others have began organizations and ministries to support, educate, and empower HIV/AIDS widows and mothers. And yet many more and opening their hearts and homes to children, locally and globally, who were orphaned. It seems God is raising up our generation of Kingdom focused people and I don't want to miss out on that fun! God is at the helm in these stories and when God is at the helm, buckle up because it's going to be an exciting ride!

In reality, when people ask how we 'do this', I know they are talking about logistics, busyness, sanity, and mental and emotional energy. What I feel like they may be asking is this: "How do you parent five children, attend seminary, work part time in ministry, love your family, and have anything left over?"
"How do we get from here to there and back again?" "How do we make it to four different soccer games per weekend?" "How do we stay sane?"

So, I would like to take three words to answer all of those questions:

I DON'T KNOW!

Ha! I know that is not a very profound answer, but it is the truth. I have no earthly idea how day after day, we get five lunches packed and five kids off to school. How we keep track of science fair projects and stuffed animals. How I engage in deep theological reflection and read The Fire Cat for the hundredth time and gain deep joy and gratification from both. How the energy and resources seem to be just enough to get through each day, with not an ounce left over.

But then I think about those questions again, and I know the truth. That truly I am not really don't anything at all, yet it is God. We have given God full access to our lives and therefore God is being allowed to work through ordinary, everyday, sinful, imperfect vessels to redeem brokenness and restore us to health. The truth that left alone to my own devices and my own strength, I would have crumbled years ago. The truth, found in 2 Corinthians 12:9 when Paul states, "[God's] grace is sufficient for you, [God's] power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."

So, that is the truth. That is how we do it. We don't. God does. Love does. And now that we know the amazing things God can accomplish when we allow God access to our lives, there is no way we would live any other way. God gave us purpose. God gave us a mission. And God gives us everything we need to see the mission through.

The same is true for you. Do you know what your mission is? Have you allowed God full access to the life he has given you? If not, ask. Ask for clarity and direction and purpose. But don't be surprised if God asks you to step WAY out of your comfort zone. I promise you this: once you take that first step, the following steps are much easier to take. So go ahead, let God's strength be made perfect in your weakness. Go after that God-sized dream or passion. You will have no earthly idea how things are falling into place and mountains are being moved, but you will, you most certainly will, gain a glimpse of heaven and realize how powerful and mighty our God truly is. Praise him!

Photo Credit

Meet The Ethiopian Tooth Fairy....

2012-12-30T19:40:00.002-05:00

I have said this many times before, but adopting older children (internationally, in this case) is amazing for so many reasons. Not the least of these reasons being that once language barriers are overcome and trust is built, they can clearly communicate about their past, their histories, their first families, their trauma, their grief, their dreams, and their culture and traditions. I am like a kid at Christmas when Big Sister and Sporty get into "story mode"! Pour me a cup of cheer and I'll pull up a chair for hours...if need be.

Keeping in mind that oral tradition, in Ethiopia, is still such a big part of how stories are handed down from one generation to another, I imagine there are just as many versions of the story I am about to share as there are subcultures in this beautiful country. Just last week while our family was on a ski and snowboarding vacation atop a beautiful mountaintop resort in a neighboring state, Big Sister and Sporty...while arguing over who gets to rub my feet (tough life, I know!)...were on a roll sharing stories of days past and memories made. (Photo evidence of the awesome massages they give lest you think I make this good stuff/huge blessing up! In fact, Big Sister is rubbing my shoulders as I type this.)

As Big Sister took her turn sharing a story, I found myself intrigued and humored. (She tells great stories, by the way!) She shared a story about the Ethiopian version of the 'tooth fairy' that was too good not to pass along. The entire story made me laugh and light up, knowing that despite the many traumas and past hurts in her life, her birth mother found ways to give her a childhood as best as she could. She found ways to pass along fun traditions, amidst the daily struggle for survival. Some things, I am coming to learn, are simply universal. Family love is universal. I found myself imagining this scene she was describing play out in a land far away, by people who often do not know where their next meal will come from. The mud huts or corrugated tin makeshift residences, the dirt roads, the furniture-less homes. The community latrine and water supply. Home!

I thought the best way to share this story with you was to let Big Sister share it herself. So, I captured a quick video of her telling the story of the Ethiopia tooth fairy....who is...A BIRD! Watch and enjoy!

In case you missed or were not able to understand the main parts of this story, I will summarize. When a child loses her or his tooth, the child and caregiver go outside and sing, "Bird, bird, you can have my teeth, I can have your teeth." (Never mind that fact that most birds do not have teeth. Perhaps one of the few rare species of birds that do have teeth were flying around her hometown. I do not know, but yes I did spend considerable time researching birds with teeth. Why? I dunno?! Big Sister fell on the floor laughing when I told her most birds do not have teeth.)

Photo Credit

Anyway, after singing the line about exchanging teeth with the bird, the child then tosses the tooth up unto the rooftop. If the bird takes the tooth (and no one goes to actually check, but I assume mom/dad/guardian may take the tooth just as we parents do here in the states), then the child will be blessed with good teeth and oral hygiene. If not, well...tough luck I guess?! Either way, the fact that children on the other side of the world, living in abject poverty, celebrate milestones just as we do here in uber rich America, made me smile. It filled me with hope. It filled me with peace, for some odd reason. We are often so wrapped up in the daily grind, our task lists, our over-programmed schedules, that we may perhaps fail to realize and embrace the universal nature and universal love of family and shared blessings.

As we close out another Christmas, I pray that we are able to focus on gifts that really matter. Love, mercy, compassion, kindness, bearing one another's burdens. The kind of gifts that are often found not under the tree, but around the tree. In those people we hold nearest and dearest. I pray that this year we are able to cherish those gifts a little more, because at the end of the day I think we all know that the self-giving gifts we share with those who we hold close are the gifts that truly matter. Just as Jesus giving his life for us is the best gift we can ever be given, the best gifts we can give are gifts that demonstrate selfless love. While Big Sister's birth mother might not be here to see her daughter light up and she passes along a tradition to her new family, her mother's spirit was certainly present. I am thankful for her selfless love and sacrifice each and every day and know that one day, in the Kingdom, we will all be united, free from disease and poverty and all pains and struggles.

Food Wars and the Adopted Child

2012-10-16T22:00:00.001-04:00

Food Wars!

No, I am not talking about slinging food across the table or declaring a food fight in a local restaurant. I am talking about a battle that seems to begin, for many of us, prior to the flight home from our child's home country. The battle where each and every meal and snack becomes a time for a child/children to assert control over their world by manipulating perhaps one of the few things they do have control over. That is, the food they choose to eat.

On some levels, this can be expected simply due to different smells, textures, previous malnutrition, sensory processing issues and the like. Food is a basic necessity for life and many, many of our children have been deprived of this necessity. The impact of those traumas may be with us for life. That is the reality we are working with. However, there is another reality. Namely, we need to eat each and every day in order to be physically, emotionally, and spiritually healthy and our food choices greatly impact how we feel and operate in each of those categories. Allowing our children to simply eat as they wish does not benefit the child, parent, or anyone else who has to interact with our children. I often hear people say, "I want my children to have a good relationship with food and therefore don't force her/him to eat anything." That sounds nice and may indeed work for some families (I do not believe there is a one size fits all solution here), but I also want my children to have a good relationship with healthy food and therefore do encourage, motivate, and incentivize them to eat the healthy stuff so that they can be rewarded with something they prefer. If they choose not to eat the meal, they are also choosing not to be rewarded.

On still yet other levels, I believe these are control battles. Heck, when all else in your world seems to be spinning out of control, who wouldn't be grasping for that one little thing that can be controlled. Our children did not choose to be born into poverty. They did not choose to watch their birth parents suffer horrible illnesses and die. For the most part, they did not choose their new family. They did not choose their new siblings. They did not choose where they would or would not go to school in their new country, in their new family. The list goes on. They will however choose to turn their back on a plate of American food and pout like a three-year-old at each and every meal. It is frustrating beyond frustrating. I get it! But, by putting myself in their shoes for just one minute, I can feel the anxiety taking over. The anxiety that is interwoven into our children' fabric. But, I also am a mom of five strong-willed kids and I believe nutritious food is absolutely essential to overall well being. I cannot, I will not, hand over my sanity and meal time (times three, plus a snack or two daily) to the gremlins. It would be anarchy in our house. I guarantee it! Because of these reasons, our family has chosen to be unwavering and firm regarding healthy food choices with the hope that our children develop a taste for fruits, vegetables, whole grains, nuts, and other unprocessed healthy food. Because let's face it, the taste does not come naturally here in America...land of processed, manipulated, over-sugared, over-salted, over-fatted, convenient, pre-packaged food. And because nutrition, fitness, and integrated well-being are extremely important and high on my list of 'mom goals', this is indeed a battle I choose to engage in, keeping in mind my goal is never to punish or withhold, but to develop the taste for healthy food that will facilitate an overall healthy lifestyle.

While I understand this approach is not for everyone and I certainly respect diverse viewpoints, we have had great success with this model. Sporty, who turned his back to the table for months after arriving home, will now gobble down plate after plate of fresh vegetables. He will now eat Every. Single. Food. that he adamantly refused when first coming home. Big Sister initially refused anything that she suspected was a tomato (insert anything and everything red). She has only been home three months and gobbles down the reds, greens, yellows, and everything in between. Do they absolutely love everything put on their plates? Of course not! Is that OK? Most definitely. Will I ever force a child to eat what is on their plates? Never. Will I reward children who do eat healthily with ice cream or a another treat? Yup! We all have favorites and least favorites. However, my mama heart and mind rest easy knowing my children are filled and fueled with the best nutrition I am able to provide for them. And while they may think that me giving in to their desires means they can trust me to meet there needs (because let me remind you, food is also a huge trust issue for our children), I tend to take a different approach. Most importantly, then, is that my children trust that I will provide them with the food they need to thrive. All of my children witness me eat healthily and exercise daily. While they may pout and grunt at the vegetables on their plate, I remind them that vegetables are what makes mommy strong and fit. And I know that being fit is one thing they admire about me, because they tell me so. With that being said, I use it as leverage and try to lead by example. Because at the end of the day, our children will more than likely follow not what we are saying, but what we are doing.

One note of caution: it is absolutely essential to understand your child's past trauma and hurt when incorporating food strategies. For a child that was severely malnourished either prenatally or postnatally, had food withheld as punishment, has sensory processing disorders, or any other disorder or delay, it is critical to discuss nutrition with your pediatrician and other specialists. We came to our decisions after ruling out serious medical and emotional issues tied to food. Please see the video clip below for Dr. Karyn Purvis' approach to food issues.

The following video clip from Dr. Karyn Purvis, the expert of all experts on parenting children from hurt and broken backgrounds, provides clinical expertise and psychological rationale that may help us better understand our children's real hurt. She also suggest ways of dealing with food issues and urges us not to make food a "blood bath." Keeping in mind that I am not nearly as calm as Dr. Purvis and rarely have classical music playing in the background, our family has modified her suggestions to fit our crazy, strong-willed household and while we do not make food issues a "blood bath", everyone must eat her or his vegetables and whole grains if they would like anything sweet or more preferred. End of story.

I Guess This Is Home?!

2012-10-08T14:17:00.001-04:00

When you spend nearly a decade moving around, chasing opportunities and following where the military leads, it is a strange feeling to finally look at a house and for the first time as an adult realize that this house, this neighborhood, this church family, this community, this school system, soccer team, etc. is not just another house or neighborhood, but rather our home. So strange in fact, that it took me over two years to finally accept that were indeed home and to start putting down roots. Even then, I didn't let myself grow too attached because I knew that at any moment I could hear my spouse utter those words, "Hey, there is this great opportunity....in Bangladesh." Or something like that. Some of you know exactly what I am talking about. It could come at any time, so we dare let ourselves get too comfortable, too attached.

Just recently, after being in our current home for nearly five years and settling in nicely in all areas, he came home with the news. The words. The words that bring great anticipation, a little fear, and whole lot of questions. The opportunity, praise God, was not in Bangladesh. It would be a good career opportunity. It would be on the water. (We both love the idea of living on the water.) It would be a little closer to extended family. It would be exciting. We initially agreed to to throw our hat in the ring. Why not? What do we have to lose?

Then, panic set in. We can't do this. Big Sister just arrived. Larry is starting Kindergarten. Sporty is excelling in and out of the classroom. I am in my second year of Seminary and have never been so passionate about working toward God's purpose in our lives. We love our entire community. Our village.

Then, reality set in. Accompanied by a mix of emotions. It is not just the two of us. There is so much more to our family these days. The 'opportunity' would not have the cultural resources that we cherish here. It would not have the excellent soccer coaches and training opportunities. It would not be close to my school. It would not have our current community, our church. It would not have an acclaimed and globally diverse school system. It would be overly white. It would be too much of a risk. We couldn't do it. For the first time ever, we would be letting the so-called opportunity pass. And we were at peace. Because God does not call us to chase opportunity, he calls us to chase him.

In the years following undergrad, some friends would joke that I lived out of a Uhaul. That was actually fairly accurate. A few months in one location, a few years in another. The only plan was to go where the next door opened. It is a strange way to live, but it was familiar and I enjoyed the thrill. Then, my path crossed that of my future husband. Another Uhaul resident. We were married within a year (crazy, I know) and continued the follow open doors and God's calling. It was easier to do before children arrived and I thank God for those years of adventure.

Years ago, I had a friend tell me that his family was no longer "Light Infantry", but rather an entire "Mechanized Armor Division." At the time he told me this, I could have been considered a "Military Scout." It was just me, with not a care in the world. Now, I completely understand those words, because they are how I feel most days. We are no longer just two people united in marriage, but rather part of God's interweaving of people and places. Boots and a backpack don't really cut it these days. There are so many moving parts to consider. And sometimes the opportunity is right where we are. No Uhauls needed. It still sounds strange to say this, but we are home!

...at least until the Lord tells us to move!

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. -Proverbs 3:5-7

Growing Closer Over Coke, Tej, and Tibs

2012-09-29T22:56:00.003-04:00

Tonight was a game changer. A totally unplanned, impromptu, let's get out and get to know each other better game changer.

God said go...laugh a little, do what she wants to do. Let her have coke and you some wine. Enjoy each other's company and listen with an open heart.

So, we went. To a local Ethiopian restaurant where the sights, smells, and sounds were home-sweet-home. I watched happily as Big Sister sniffed and listened her way back to Ethiopia. I was filled with joy. Filled with sorrow.

Transitions are tough. Grief is tough. Healing from a hurt past is tough. Parenting five kids is tough. Being immersed in an English classroom, when your primary language is Amharic, for nearly seven hours per day is tough. Trying to help Big Sister with her homework after her brain has already been fried for the day is tough. Trying to balance the demands of marriage, parenting, school, and extra-curricular activities is tough. In short, life is tough. For all of us. 1 Corinthians 15:58 tells us, "Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."

And I absolutely believe that. I believe that God's heart for the orphan is undeniable. You don't have to take my word for it, ask anyone on this journey. I believe that this work will never ever be in vain. God is so amazingly close to the orphan that I feel his presence like never before. His mercies are new each day and his love is unfailing. But, it's still tough. Every day. Sometimes minute by minute. And so we went out for some laughs and fun.

And. it. was. fun. But is was also something else. It was a safe space from Big Sister to open up to me, her mom, and share whatever was on her mind. On her heart. To not feel pressured by the demands of school or learning English or fitting in socially or measuring up to anyone. And, share she did.

Somewhere between taking our first bite and asking for refill, she started talking about her brother. The one she adores. The one closest to her heart. The one 8000 miles away. The one she may never see again. She told me all about him and how he looked out for her. When it was 8:00 pm, he made sure she was indoors and out of harms way. He taught her that nothing good happened on the streets after 8:00 and because she loved him and respected him, she listened. She went indoors and stayed out of harms way. She told me many other stories. Heartbreaking stories. Healing stories. I listened fervently. I prayed silently. I sat in awe of God's faithfulness. How he works the details when we are willing to be obedient.

I saw her fidgeting. She fidgets a lot. She was gearing up for something, so I sat still. Patiently. Taking in my surrounding and missing Ethiopia. Her smells and sounds. Her beautiful people. I sipped my Tej and she her coca. I took another bite of gomen and miser wat folded inside injera. We were eating from a shared plate. My vegetables surrounding her tibs. I adore eating this way. It is so very intimate.

"Mom," she said. "You and your sister. You miss your mom, right? Sometimes you cry because she die." "Yes, of course," I said. "I miss my mom a lot. A whole lot." "Mom," she said. "I miss my mather too." "Mom?" Tears were now overflowing from her eyes. "Yes?" I asked. "Mom....is my mather dead? Did she die? How will I know? She very sick, mom. She die soon. How will we know?"

Now, we were both crying. I told her I would do everything I could to find out her mother's health status. I encouraged her to write a letter even though her birth mother had prepared her for the permanence of her adoption and more or less told her to move on, do what she needs to do, and simply pray for her. I believe she was taught to suppress her emotions, as a sign of strength. A cultural norm, more or less. Conversely, I teach her to express them. I am so very thankful when I can see an outward sign, any sign, of what is going on inside.

She told me she would write a letter. I promised her it would get delivered.

By this point, Big Sister was happy to have had a coca, our meal was finished, and I was slowly finishing up my Tej, a "deceptively sweet wine that masks its high alcohol content." It tastes like Ethiopia. It was yummy and I was feeling lighter. Too light, actually. So, we walked across the street to a local Christian bookstore.

The rest of our night was filled with something we have oddly enough yet to do: bonding via shopping. The Tej had me feeling good and I let her indulge. A devotional book or three? Sure! A DVD? Why not? Throw a few CDs in too. Sunglasses? Find two pairs!

We left the store and headed to a hair salon. While at the restaurant, we were told of a local Ethiopian woman who could relax and style Big Sister's hair the way she has been asking.

Unfortunately, by the time we made it to the salon they were closed for the evening. However, I think we both had a wonderful evening with Christ, enjoying food, drink, music, good company, and a few consumables.

We grew closer. I can feel it. She came hope happy and relaxed. Will we still have many trials ahead? No doubt! However, I need to learn to listen more intently to God's voice telling us it's OK to take a break. To relax and enjoy. To sit and listen. To sip drinks that we adore. To not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about itself (Matthew 6:34).

Father God, I thank you for the special gift you gave us tonight. The gift of enjoying one-on-one time that is so hard to manage in our daily lives. The gift of safe spaces and open hearts. The gift of intimate connections and healing. The gift of your heart for the orphan and how that has so transformed every aspect of our daily living. Thank you, God, for all that we see and all that is unseen. Thank you for my daughter! Thank you for her mother! Help me to love and cherish them the way that you do.

The Adopted Child and Socially Awkward Behavior

2012-09-08T22:06:00.001-04:00

The other day I heard a friend calling up to Sporty, who was near his bedroom window. "Hey, do you want to come out and play basketball?," his friend asked. Without missing a beat, Sporty responded, "Sure, I'll be right out!" Now, I know what some of you are thinking. So what? What is the big deal about that? Kids have these sorts of exchanges all of the time. While that it certainly true, those of you who have experienced seemingly socially bizarre behavior with your adopted children know that it is a huge deal when our children learn to interact in socially acceptable ways with adults and other children. I believe this past summer was our turning point!

When we first came home with Sporty a little over 19 months ago (Wow, has it been that long?!), this exchange would never had happened. In fact, the reality of how this situation has played out in the past had me scratching my head for quite some time. (And sometimes apologizing to the 'victim'.) Sporty, a child who was by all means very social and active at the Transition Home in Ethiopia, seemed to display socially awkward or downright rude behavior in most social situations here in America. This went on for months. A friend would go out of his way to stop by and try to include Sporty in some activity and Sporty would turn his back on said friend and refuse to answer. An adult would ask him a question and Sporty would look at the ground and mumble some incoherent response. Sporty's soccer teammates would try to start up conversation only to be met with a sullen facial expression and silence. (Fact: I had more conversations with his teammates while carpooling to and from practice and games than he had with them the entire season last year.) What was going on? At home, Sporty had normal interactions with me and his immediate family, and his teachers were singing his praises. He was cooperative and would play with others at school, but outside of the school setting he seemed to be at a loss for how to act socially. Why the bizarre behavior in social settings?

For those of us with older adopted children from Ethiopia, these awkward behaviors seem inconsistent with the social and engaged children we met at the orphanage or transition home. Read: at the transition home. In her or his home country, in her or his comfort zone. Of course their behavior will be different in America, at least initially. Everything is different. Ethiopia was a place that he or she was familiar with and here, well, he or she is just learning about the new environment and I can only imagine how stressful that may be. Do you like to be called on or called out unexpectedly in class or at a meeting? Probably not. Our children are called out daily...whether at school, church, or just out and about in the neighborhood. Yikes! All eyes on the new kid...

With Big Sister arriving on the scene this past summer, I had the chance to view her initial social interactions with veteran eyes and saw something that I probably missed last year. Our adopted children, already under so much stress due to this huge life change and probably filled with anxiety beyond measure, were trying to hide. I believe they were trying to make themselves invisible as a means of coping with the anxiety. I imagine them having an internal conversation along the lines of this: "Maybe if I don't make eye contact, this situation that is making me feel distressed will go away?" Or this: "Perhaps if I don't answer, they will forget about me and I can just return to my comfort zone." As parents who may want for our children to be connected socially with peers, these situations can be both heartbreaking and frustrating. However, with compassion, consistent coaching, and lots of reassurance, our children can learn how to respond in socially acceptable ways and build confidence along the way. Most of us are social creatures and crave acceptance and belonging. We all want to live a purposeful life. Our children are no different. Just because they may not know how to respond, does not mean they do not really want to learn how to respond, no matter how hard they may fight us initially. It is our job to teach them and coach them and eventually, we hope, things will start to flow.

Last Spring, after prayers one night Sporty came right out and asked me how he could make friends. He must have been wrestling with this for some time and came to a place where he was comfortable and secure and ready to take the next step. So, we had a little chat about making friends, filled with examples and illustrations. This past summer, Sporty spent a good portion of every day with neighborhood friends...playing sports, swimming, riding bikes, etc. They had a summer like the ones I remember: outdoor all day with friends, home only to check in and eat. And I was a happy mom.

While Big Sister, perhaps due to her gender, craves social interactions and is thrilled to be in a classroom with peers and on a soccer team with girls her age, she has some socially strange behavior of her own. She growls, friends. Yes, growls. And chews things she finds on the ground. Two nights ago, my mother-in-law gave her a birthday gift. Not knowing how to respond or how to be grateful, when asked what she thought she was going to do with the gift she said, "Throw it in the trash." Yup, that is what she said. Side note: I am becoming a damage control expert. So just when we normalized one child socially, another has backfilled. That is OK. We will work through her anxieties as well. One day at a time. If you ask her a question and she doesn't respond appropriately, please do not assume she is being rude on purpose or blowing you off. Trust that I am coaching and reassuring her at home and that her behavior may simply be rooted in anxiety. Her previous life was not a walk in the park. It taught her not to trust. She is now learning that it is OK to trust and that will take time. God heals!

I pray that one year from now I will be able to report on the relationships she has formed and the hurdles she has jumped. God is walking with us, carrying us some days, and telling us to pick up the pace on others. Some days, God simply asks that we survive. Being an active part in God healing a broken child is extremely difficult. Sometimes I don't have an ounce of energy left at the end of the day. I crawl into bed and pull the covers up. I thank God for transforming me on this journey and allowing me to take part. I thank God for another day in his creation and ask that he provides all the wisdom, discernment, and energy that we all need to make it through another. I thank God for new mercies each and every day. Then, I crash. Joyfully, humbly, and purposefully having exerted all of the energy I was given for the day.

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness. -Lamentations 3:22-23

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Adoption: A Beginning, Not The End State

2012-09-02T14:12:00.001-04:00

This morning at worship, our pastor asked how things were going with Big Sister and the overall transition. I said things were going well, that transitions are of course stressful, and that it was amazing to be able to witness the healing taking place. The brief dialogue made me reflect on the bigger picture of adoption, one that we might not think about during the hectic paper-chase stage, the painful stage of waiting for our child or children to come home, or the euphoric homecoming and honeymoon period. In the bigger picture, the one which led us to adoption in the first place, we adopt...we choose love...because we were adopted and loved first. Adoption is a story of redemption, of healing, of taking broken things and making them whole. In short, adoption is the story of Christianity. While the completion of an adoption might very well feel like crossing the finish line, the truth is that another race begins almost immediately.

I hope you take some time to catch your breath at the finish line, re-hydrate, and prayerfully prepare for the marathon of redemption and healing that lies ahead, which you will take an active role in and in the process be transformed yourself. It is a very painful journey, have no doubt, on in which you will cling to your Savior like never before, but also a journey in which you will actively witness and bear witness to God's healing and redemptive power in a broken world. During this marathon of your new life, God may very well open your eyes to bigger and more painful issues. At least, that is what happened to our family. Those same issues and injustices that necessitated adoption are now painfully and joyfully interwoven into the fabric of our family. As I have said before, I do not believe adoption is God's "Plan A" for children. And while adoption may very well be a family's Plan A for adding children, praise God, the mere fact that children need to be adopted points to issues much larger than a child being placed into family. While God's hand is certainly all over that entire matching process (as our house full of dynamic and unique personalities can attest), I believe that God uses adoption to point our heart toward the underlying injustices, the abuses of position and power, and the way in which the church is or is not responding to the least of these. Adoption is not an end state, it is a new beginning! Not just for your child or children, but for every person involved in your own adoption journey.

I pray that those words resonate in your heart and that you allow God to open to your eyes to whatever issues God chooses. For those of us with adopted children at home, we understand that each child's brokenness is not the same. Some have dealt with physical abuse, some with sexual abuse, others with neglect and abandonment, some with simply the absence of a loving and caring presence. Others may have had all the love in the world but not enough resources to feed, clothe, and educate. However, underneath all of these issues there is another layer. Again, the injustices that are rampant in our world leave a fertile breeding ground for these superficial fleshy issues to take over. And take over they do. Whatever issues our child has faced or dealt with, I believe, are now the issues woven into our family. How can I pretend I do not know? I can't. This truth has gloriously wrecked my life, praise God!

The apostle Paul, in 2 Corinthians 6:18 tells us, "I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty." Like an earthly father, our heavenly Father does not just give us new life and then depart. What would happen to a newborn baby left at the hospital without loving care and subsistence? Our God stays with us, guiding and correcting, teaching and growing us. And so it is with adoption. Just as our heavenly Father adopted each of us into his family, when we adopt a son or daughter into our family and assume all parental roles and responsibilities, God walks along side of us, using our flawed bodies and minds to bring healing and redemption to another human being. God heals! If you don't believe me, pop in any day of week and witness God's work in his children. If you read their life stories, you would expect them to be broken beyond repair. If you read their life stories through the eyes of God, you would understand that God has beautiful plans for all of his children. However in a broken and unjust world, we cannot sit back and expect God to pour miracles from the sky. We, brothers and sisters in Christ, ARE the miracles and are to be the miracles to others bringing God's story of hope and redemption to the world.

As such, I hope that each of you along this wonderful and wonderfully challenging road, begin to see adoption not as an end state to be reached but as a lifelong journey. While your homecoming day will certainly be remembered and celebrated for the rest of your lives, as it should be, I believe there is more to the story. There is more to our story and there is more to yours.

What else is God trying to teach us? Where does God expect us to go from here? How could God be using adoption to transform our own hearts...weeding out self-severing tendencies? What does God want us to see? What does God want us to do?

Those are just some questions bouncing around my mind. How has God used your adoption journey to open your eyes to other issues?

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Voices In Her Head

2012-08-24T14:35:00.001-04:00

I have found that one of most amazing blessings of adopting older children is their ability to communicate past experiences...that is, once we find the correct key that unlocks their trust door.

Finding that key can be a bit tricky, but I have found success by simply making myself available...physically, spiritually, emotionally, and mentally...to my children. This doesn't have to consume twenty-four hours a day (sometimes a mere fifteen minutes of dedicated energy does the trick) but rather just needs to present itself in an authentic way to the child. My children need to know I am for real. That my love and role of mother is for real. I need to assure and reassure them that I will be a rock in their lives, regardless of circumstances. That even though I am far from perfect and filled with parental flaws, they can count of me to be there for them...to have their back...and to always advocate for their best interests. Once they start to feel secure, the trust door begins to open and the things revealed are both horrific and healing.

Sporty and Big Sister have been given such a special gift. Both children are able to communicate not only the circumstances surrounding their past, but also paint a vivid picture of their emotions connected to those experiences. Both children are incredibly empathetic and able to tune into the emotions of those around them, including me, their mom. Sometimes, the conditions of our home and everyone's temperament at a given much are just so, and my children let their guards down and want to discuss anything and everything. Last night was one of those special occasions with Big Sister.

In my grief post, I talked about one of the various faces grief can wear. There are more layers to grief than layers in an onion, but digging in and reaching back to pivotal crisis moments have helped open up discussion in our home. Big Sister has told me a number of times that sometimes when she goes to sleep at night, a "big, bad, scary man appears in her doorway". She mimes a bear-like figure with a scary face to show me what he looks like. I knew that sleeping in a new and quiet bedroom would initially be scary, as she was accustomed to many other people sleeping in close vicinity, so we talked about ways to deal with the "scary man" image and I reassured her that he was not real. We talked about the power of prayer, the evil one, and the fact that she is always able to come down the hall and into my bedroom, should she ever be scared.

Last night, she added a few key details to her story and now, praise God, I have a more complete picture of the scary man. This image represented a very real person to her and as such shows up only when she was feeling sad, insecure, and alone. He represented a person who had done a lot of damage, a lot of tearing down, who wrecked her trust, and who proved to be a person capable of harm. Big Sister went on to tell me some incredibly sad stories and even let me know what the scary man was telling her to do when he appeared. She trusted me enough to tell me what was going on...even if just in her imagination. Though she risked humiliation or worse...as her past experiences have taught her. She trusted me! And I hope I responded in a way that moves us forward. Toward healing built upon trust. When I speak about how adoption is all about God, this was one of those moments so much bigger than myself. So much bigger than psychology or counseling, not that professional help isn't a valuable tool, it certainly is. God is just so much bigger and I promise you, shows up in ways you could never plan. Anyway, I told Big Sister that the scary man is not welcome in this house and should he appear, she is allowed to scream, "Get out of here!!!" at the top of her lungs for all I care. Heck, I will scream it with her if that seems to be of any help. We can even shoot him with our homemade marshmallow guns if that lightens the mood. We talked about the things scary man was telling her. I was able to reassure he that this is a house where although not perfect, no one will ever physically harm another. Harm, whether physical or emotional, is not part of God's desire or plan for any relationship.

We grieve forward.

What was truly amazing to me was learning about the special people God put in her path during her time at the orphanage. That, I learned, is where she learned how to pray. Where a very special woman took the time to teach her the power of prayer and the good desires God has for his children. Big Sister told me that whenever she prays, the scary man goes away. As she said those words, I was reminded of the words my own my mother said to me when I used to get scared. Almost identical teaching moments. I was able to pass along some of my mother's wisdom for praying away these sorts of situations and both Big Sister and I seemed to be at peace. And, as our Living God may have it, it was a very special women...at an orphanage...who taught my mom how to pray. While I would never believe that God wants any harm to fall on any of his children, I was reminded once again of Romans 8:28 that says, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

As I am continually reminded, there are many voices speaking to our children. (There are many voices speaking to all of us, to be sure!) Voices from the past, voices from the present, voices from heaven, and voices from the evil one. Good voices, bad voices, voices that build up, and voices that tear down. Big Sister has even beautifully articulated what this sounds like to her, and I am so thankful for this gift. She told me last night that when she is happy, when she allows herself to be vulnerable and trust, a voice in her head says, "No. Be sad. Be sad. Be sad. Don't be happy." Another voice, possibly mimicking the fight or flight response her body is producing with all of this newness tells her repeatedly, "E-tee-opia, go! E-tee-opia, go! Must go...E-tee-opia." And yet, the still voice of God presents itself in the smile that is starting to come easy. The voice that allows her to let her guards down at all. The voice that tells her to trust me, her mother. It presents itself in those moments, when although I can't put my finger on exactly what is different, I know things are, in fact, different.

We are grieving forward, rising from the ashes.

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Righteous Sinners

2012-08-10T17:09:00.003-04:00

Something has really been irking me. It's the same something that has irked me during political campaigns for years. It is the same something that irks me when evil pits us against one another, divides our human race, and even (sometimes even more so) divides those of us who are supposed to be united in Christ. It is the something that irks me when I see hate and slander thrown around on social media, because let's face it, it is easier to throw up a nasty post, most of the time not even an original thought but just "shared" hate, than it is to actually do something helpful and healing with our energy.

That same energy used to cause divisions and break people down could instead be used to unite and build up. Energy is a limited resource. How do you choose to use it?

Why choose hate, when it feels so much better for the giver and receiver to choose love. Even when you disagree. Even when you hold differing political beliefs. Even when you practice different faiths. Even when you are absolutely certain you are right. Let me ask you this...and this is something I ask myself a lot when I feel self-righteousness creeping in...what good will it do you, the other person, or humanity to be right? I have found that usually it is better to be humble and quiet than it is is to be loud and right. After all, what does it mean to be right anyway?

Personally, I don't want to be right. I do, however, want to be righteous. In wanting to be righteous, there is one big problem. A huge blockage, in fact. On my own, I cannot and will not ever be righteous. Never ever ever ever. Impossible. It does not matter how many children we adopt, how many widows or orphans we sponsor, how many Bible studies we attend, how many church and community events we have volunteered for, or how many causes we support. Does not matter. On my own, I can never be righteous.

One of the basic themes of the Christian faith is that we are all sinners. Every last one of us. Now, I know there are many of you who probably do not like that word: sinner. To be honest, I was trying to think of a way to write this post without using it, but I would miss the mark if I tried. I think many of us don't like the word sinner because too many religious institutions and/or religious leaders have used it to point a finger in somebody else's face, individually a person or a group of people, and call out their sins. The word, unfortunately, has been used to shame other people. To make other people feel not worthy and perhaps, to try to make themselves feel better. To religious leaders who do this, who take a holier than thou approach, I would have to say, "Look. In. The. Mirror." Just because we sin differently, does not change the fact that we are all sinners. That is, we have have things in our life that create distance from God. Some estimates point to over 600 'sins' listed in the Bible. I can guarantee you, we all wear something on the list. Arrogance? Vain babbling? Lust? Fear? Unforgiving? Not loving your enemy?

Which brings me to Jesus. The entire point of my Christian faith. We live in a very broken, very hurt, fallen world. Things are not as they were meant to be because of our separation from God. Jesus, through putting on flesh, walking among us, teaching us how to love another, and ultimately sacrificing his life so that we my gain life eternal, was the fix for our sin. The ultimate fix. He did what we cannot or will ever be able to do on our own.

One the key themes of the Protestant Reformation in the 16th Century (when Martin Luther and others sought to break away from the Roman Catholic Church) is that we are justified (or made right) by grace through faith. Simply put, there is no action or deed good enough to make us righteous in our fallen world. Conversely, there is no action or deed bad enough that could separate us from Christ's love. When we receive Christ we become, simultaneously, sinners and righteous. Simul justus et peccator. My seminary professor gave an excellent illustration of this concept by having a student come to the front of the room. First, the student stood there simply clothed in the shirt and pants he was wearing. Then, she handed him a coat. As he put on the coat, she explained that the coat stands for Christ's righteousness. The righteousness remains outside of the believer. Underneath the coat, we are all sinners. However, when we wear Christ, his righteousness covers us. Simul justus et peccator. Both sinner and saint. Not one or the other, yet simultaneously both.

If we are all sinners, which at least the Christians among us will agree, then there should be no need to point fingers at someone else. There should be no need to pretend you and I are not sinners. There should be no need to pretend that my or your sin are less than the sins of others. There should be no need, or for that matter time, for angry words, hate talk, finger pointing, chicken-sandwich-line-to-make-a-point-waiting, or self-righteous attitudes and behaviors. Our job as Christians, when dealing with and relating to other people, as Jesus told us, was to love others the way he loved us. That's it. In my opinion, if we truly want others to experience the joy and peace that comes with an indwelling of the holy spirit, we need to seriously reexamine our strategies and tactics.

Does that mean we cannot have deeply held convictions or beliefs? Of course not. Does that we cannot support a political party or candidate? No, it does not. Does that mean we should keep silent when there is injustice in the world. Absolutely not. Does loving others mean that we have to agree with anything about them that we may not agree with? No...keeping in mind that the other person does not need to agree with your disagreement about them either. (See how that works?) What it means to me is that if I dress myself every day in Christ's righteousness, then my thoughts and speech will be grace-filled. My actions will be loving and instead of seeking to be right, I will seek to understand others. Instead of trying to convince myself that my sin is less than your sin, I will overflow with the love and mercy that has been given to me (undeserved) in abundance. Truth being told, while seemingly simple, this is difficult and not natural, because again in our fallen sin state, we are all tempted to want to be right or prove a point. But where does that land us? Divided, unhappy, unfulfilled, and certainly not working together to grow the kingdom.

So, the next time I am tempted to point my finger in the direction of another......

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I will instead point my finger in the direction of the one who has credited his righteousness to me so that I may think and speak in ways that are pleasing in his sight. I challenge you to do the same.

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The following words spoken by John Wesley, have been resonating in my mind: "Though we cannot think alike, may we not love alike? May we not be of one heart, though we are not of one opinion? Without all doubt, we may. Herein all the children of God may unite, notwithstanding these smaller differences." I pray that we can all let those words sink in and then put them into practice. I honestly see no other way forward.

One Month Home

2012-08-02T20:09:00.003-04:00

Only God!

Only God can take a hesitant, unsure (albeit beautiful) smile such as this:

And turn it into this easy, big, and confident smile in one month's time:

Seriously, look at that huge grin! I love it. (What you cannot see in this picture...what caused her to grin from ear to ear...was the seeing my high school and college graduation photos at my parent's house. No, I will not post those. Ha! (Friends, you may never realize how much some children value the opportunity and access to a good education! Big Sister talks about school every day. She is nervous, but oh so excited!) It never ceases to amaze me how quickly healing and bonding can come, once we...the have's...respond to God's call to care for the have not's. If you are feeling the tug, please do. not. be. scared! Of course, it is far from easy...and some transitions are way more difficult than others, but man...we are no where near the place we landed one month ago. Just looking at that big smile reassures me that me are making progress.

I cannot believe how much has been accomplished. God is on the move, no doubt! Here are some highlights from our first month home:

Learned to ride a bike. Mastered riding a bike.
Learned to swim. Is confident enough in the water to venture into the deep end of the pool.
Her English is improving rapidly. She reads and does schoolwork for a few hours each day. Most nights, I have to turn off her bedroom light so that she stops reading and goes to sleep.
She is assimilating well into our family and culture. She picks up on social cues and responds accordingly. Please and thank you and excuse me are spoken easily and with confidence.
We have had one tooth pulled, one cavity filled and sealed, and spaces put in to allow for braces to be put on.
We are caught up on all vaccines and are "paper ready" for school. We are registered to begin classes in the Fall.
We have completed Grades 1, 2, and 3 summer course work for math (and some English) and hope to complete Grade 4 in August.
She has bonded with all members of our family and Sporty has taken her under his wing to include her in all neighborhood social activities.
She has made American friends and Ethiopian-American friends. She loves being social.
She is engaged in her Sunday School class and has attended VBS willingly and happily.
She trusts me to comfort and reassure her. She allows me to mother and nurture her.
She has a good relationship with her father.
She is an amazing big sister to all of the Littles. She is loving and kind and nurturing.
She jumps right in with household duties without being asked.
She has been a special gift to our family each and every day!

In short, things are moving along quite nicely. We have grief and a hurt past to contend with, but I feel God moving us all forward to bigger and better plans. We have been so blessed by her presence in our home that it is nearly impossible for me to remember what life was like before she arrived.

Father God, thank you for trusting us. For trusting us in our imperfect selves to parent and love your children. Even when we don't think we are up for the challenge, you are always there to comfort, reassure, and guide our steps. I cannot imagine what life would be like had we not realized that our purpose in this life was never about us. That our purpose was to serve you by loving others the way you loved us. Please continue to provide all that we need to get through each day and help keep our eyes set on you and working toward your purpose on our lives. We love you! We trust you! We thank you!

Keep us keepin' on...we know it is all about you!

A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling.

-Psalm 68:5

Things Revealed

2012-07-31T20:38:00.002-04:00

There have been a number of times in my life where a certain thought, idea, or feeling popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, and implanted itself deep inside, not willing to budge or to be challenged. "I am true," the silent idea seemed to echo....

Where did this idea come from? Who put it there? Why am I so certain this idea is true, when there may be no logical explanation for it?

Those are some of the questions I tend to throw back at the intangible idea that is now ingrained deep within my person. Sometimes I try to deny it, rationalize it away, or tell myself I am just letting my imagination run wild. Sometimes, my imagination may be running wild. However, at other times I have no doubt God placed this truth in my mind and in my heart for his glory. The truth is just so loud and perfectly timed and peaceful that I know it comes from my heavenly father.

Have you ever had a truth revealed to you in a such a way that it would be nearly impossible for anybody to tell you otherwise?

Francis Bacon once said, "Knowledge is the rich storehouse for they glory of the Creator and the relief of man's estates." Sometimes knowledge is gained through traditional avenues such as education, training, and/or experience. Sometimes, God simply imparts it. Either way, I think it is important to recognize, as Bacon did, that knowledge is for the glory of the Creator.

Months before coming home with Big Sister, I began to sense God trying to direct my attention to her bedroom. Then, the revelation hit. I saw it. I felt it. I could see and sense what God was trying to prepare me for. I have even shared this story with some of you before she arrived home. Big Sister would be hurting and scared, that was certain. I saw her (not physically, but this is what I felt as revealed truth) sitting on her bed crying. The giver of truth let me know this would be happening quite frequently. I shook my head in agreement and prayed for wisdom and discernment. I understood not to be overly concerned when she wanted to retreat to her room, but to be cognizant of her emotions and check on her frequently. She needed to know that I was there and I cared. She needed to know I would not abandon. Note: this particular scenario did not happen with Sporty or Sassy. There were distinct revealed truths for each of them, to be sure...but nothing having to do with wanting to be alone.

For the first two to three weeks after arriving home, we were all enjoying the Honeymoon. Everyone was on the their best behavior, wearing big smiles, and celebrating a whole bunch of firsts. Everything was smooth sailing. Almost too easy, to be honest. One night, I voiced just how easy things were going to my husband. (To which he shook his head at me like I was crazy and said something along the sarcastic lines of 'why don't we add five more?!') The very next day, things were no longer so easy. Ha! God, your timing is hilarious. I get it...you are in control and I should learn to keep my mouth shut. :-) Adoption and orphan care is never easy. It's always messy. I should have known better.

Regardless, just as God prepared me and showed what would be happening, Big Sister has been wanting to retreat to her room a lot. She can be easily overwhelmed and I know is hurting deeply. She hides it well on the surface, but I know the truth. She is scared and she feels alone. Sometimes her eyes look so distant. When she feels overwhelmed, she goes to her room, locks the door, and cries on her bed. She reads and writes and processes. I go to check on her frequently. I encourage her to come out and join in, but don't force the issue. Too much is already out of her control. She is out of her room enough during the day, getting exercise, eating healthy, playing, and engaged with the family. So, I am not overly concerned. I would probably be more concerned had God not given me the peaceful reassurance that this would be happening. Everyone else in our home needs to be bribed or coerced in order to retreat to his or her room, so this is a new experience for all of us.

I can only wonder what must be going through her mind. What she is feeling. How alone she must feel at times, even though she is surrounded by the love of a noisy child-filled home. Orphan care is messy indeed.

I don't completely understand the in's and out's of how God communicates with us, how God reveals his will. I am not sure anyone does, but I have learned that his communication is always peaceful. Never anxious or fear-filled. His message is firm and reassuring, like a parent encouraging a child, "You can do it!" I have also learned that it is hard to hear God's still, quiet voice when my noisy, rambling thoughts are left to run free. I must silence my own fears, my own thoughts, and simply rely on my Father's guidance.

Of course, there are times when I would love to see the big picture. There are times, plenty of times, when I want more information than God is willing to give, but I know God knows me better than I know myself and wanting what is best for me, simply supplies what is needed in the present. For now, I know that I have a hurting child who needs me to be present. My marching orders were quite simple: Show up. Be present. Love big. Mainly, don't forget to show up.

Isn't that what we are all called to do? Really, it can be that simple at times. Show up and allow God to work through us. But don't forget to show up!

I love the Old Testament book Daniel. I find it quite fascinating on many levels. In the second chapter, Daniel is praising God for revealing the meaning of the King Nebuchadnezzar's dream to him. Daniel says, "Praise be to the name of God for ever and ever; wisdom and power are his....he reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness; and light dwells with him."

What Daniel and Bacon have in common is that they both realized that God reveals things for his glory, not our own. Wisdom and truth belong to God. If God happens to reveal a truth to any one of us, it is always for his glory. We needn't know the reasons or the in's and out's, as I am learning. We don't need to know what will happen five days or even five minutes from now. We simply need to show up and love big. When we do this, God fills in the gaps in any and all ways necessary.

After all, this whole story...that story that is being written each and every day...is about God's purpose for God's creation. We are just servants called to love big and show God's love to a hurting world. A cool thing happens along the 'love big road'...God reveals his truths and we grow closer to him and to his purpose in our lives. It is a messy road. Seldom easy and rigged with traps, the road traveled on the path to our eternal home could be one in darkness or filled with light. I am forever grateful for the lamp at my feet and light on my path (Psalm 119:105)!

For now, I ask that you please pray for Big Sister. While God prepared my heart for her struggles, it hurts me to see her in pain. I know that we are healing and that healing takes time. We are still building trust, learning about each other. I feel like I have known her for years, although she has only been home one month. We have come so far already, but we have a long road ahead. Please pray for our wisdom as parents, that we can handle situations calmly and compassionately and in ways that are useful for building each other up. Please pray that we continue to grieve forward, in hope. Thank you for journeying with us!

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What Does Grief Look Like?

2012-07-22T21:16:00.002-04:00

Grief wears many faces. Sometimes the face looks sad; at other times angry; perhaps withdrawn; maybe confused or anxious; and yet the face of grief during particular moments can even look joyful. When examining how any one person may experience grief, there are so many factors to consider, probably as many as the number of hairs on each of your heads (or your friend's head if you are balding...you get the point).

Grief wears many faces.

This is a true and almost overly vague blanket statement. It needs to be a blanket statement at times because trying to pinpoint any one reason or cause will probably not lead to an accurate diagnosis. Grief, like so many other things in our orderly universe, is a system of systems. It comprises one's entire being: physical, mental, and spiritual. Years of hurt and harm and pain, coupled with life experiences and passing time, add up to the daughter I look in the eyes today. Those eyes have seen unimaginable horrors. They have had to be braver than I'll probably ever need to be. Those eyes try to hold back the tears because life has taught them 'why bother?'. Those eyes, sometimes filled with hope and at other times seemingly distant, as if remembering or trying to forget, are the eyes I seek to make contact with as much as possible. The eyes I encourage to flood with tears. The eyes that I pray will experience healing and comfort and pleasure and growth in Christ. The eyes that I desire to grieve forward, growing and learning, yet able to grasp and unwrap the many painful experiences of the past.

An old proverb says that eyes are the windows to the soul. I would like to believe that to be true. My experiences tell me that the saying is true, although I know this may leave questions concerning visually impaired individuals. When I look into my daughter's eyes, I look deep. I see the pain, the confusion, the hope. I see her draw close at times and at other times push back, as if she is fearful that letting her guard down will result in more pain. I see that her grief is very real, very raw, and yet only in its infancy. I know we will have many grief episodes in the upcoming weeks and months. They will wear different faces and be triggered by any number of things.

Dictionary.com defines grief as keen mental suffering or distress or affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret. When I recited that definition aloud, the words themselves made my stomach drop as if on a roller coaster; they conjured up many ill feelings and emotions. I need nothing more than to think about losing my mom to cancer and am flooded with grief, with regret. In many ways, I can empathize with my children's grief. In many other ways, our grief is as unique as the people experiencing it.

What does grief look like on any given day?

Funny you should ask. First, let me start by saying that grief can and does look like any number of things. We cannot forget that grief wears many faces, many masks. My previous post was about honoring the "other woman", our children's birth families, and other caretakers their lives. I felt a strong nudge to write that post and stayed up until 1:00 a.m. on Friday evening knocking it out. It was almost as if God knew I was going to need to read it myself two short days later. That I was going to have to be reminded about her birth mother because we were about to have our first real grief episode and God wanted to let me know what this particular episode may be about.

The following is what unfolded over the past 24 hours:

We returned from an awesome bike ride around a local lake and were eating dinner, preparing to watch a family movie. Big Sister wasn't feeling very well. She pointed to her lower belly and mimed cramping. (Insert: There is nothing like physically not feeling well to introduce grief. This is something I can relate to. I remember the first time I got ill while away at college, running a high fever and not able to get out of bed. I wanted nothing more than to curl up on my mom's couch and have her make me scrambled eggs, toast, and tea and to tell me everything would be OK. However, I was three hours away from home and wanting to play the part of a secure, confident grown-up, I probably just internalized the fear, felt lonely, and hoped for the best.) Anyway, I noticed her start to withdraw. I gave her some Tylenol for the stomach pain, sat next to her on the couch, and rubbed her back. Soon enough, she seemed to be feeling better. We read, prayed, and said good night.

Fast-forwarding to this morning, she woke up on time and we all rushed around the house getting ready for church. It was our typical Sunday-morning-not-so-calm-thirty-minute-dash to get the kids fed and dressed, their teeth and hair brushed, and into the car fifteen minutes before the service begins at church. (Insert: If I could go back, I would have slowed down a bit this morning, remembering Big Sister was a not feeling well the night before, and would have remembered to start the day by hugging and kissing each child, thanking God for another day with our family. Instead, I rushed around like a mad woman trying to make sure all the boxes were checked, forgetting to start my day with prayer and thanksgiving. Boo to me!) Church came and went and Big Sister did well in Sunday School, making sand art using the colors of the Ethiopian flag. I had a meeting to attend at noon so my husband took the kids to the park where they played and rode bikes. When I returned, he told me to go check on Big Sister because he sensed she was "off". I sat in the dining room where I could hear her in her bedroom upstairs. I heard a little bit of banging and stepping, but nothing worrisome. I gave her some time, but then went to check on her.

I will share the next part of the story a bit hesitantly. It is one of my worst fears that anything I write would scare anyone from reaching out to parent an older child. I share our stories simply so that others going through similar situations do not feel alone. I pray that it encourages, not drives away. Older child adoption has blessed our family in more ways than words will ever do justice. I see Jesus' face in every hurt and broken child, young and old, and personally feel called to older children. There is nothing that has ever happened in our home that would paralyze us from adopting an older child. However, with all adoptions, we have to remember the other part of the equation. Someone endured great loss before a child was added to our family. That pain and loss has consequences. In the case of older children, they are bigger and more vocal and tend to act our their grief in different and various ways. Also, please keep in mind that Sassy, brought home at eighteen months(ish) old, wrecked havoc on all of us. Her screams of terror could be heard a block away and I was nearly at my breaking point when when her piercing shrills subsided and she allowed herself to trust me to meet her needs and not abandon her. My point is that infants and toddlers experience grief too, they just don't have the words to tell us what is going on.

Back to the story.

I walked down the hall and knocked on Big Sister's bedroom door. She opened it slightly, but did not want to let me in. She pleaded with me not to come in, but of course I had to. She had throw all of her pictures around her room along with a small wicker basket. (Honestly, my preschoolers make more a mess with their toys.) She had turned over all of the picture frames on her bed (holding photos of our family, her birth mother, and friends from Addis). They were all face down. On the floor, her photos were throw in two directions. To the left were pictures of her 'old life' and to the right were pictures of her 'new life'. On her magnetic white board hung a black and white printout of a photo taken of her and her birth mother from the orphanage. The messy room was a beautiful blessing from God. I could visually see the struggle going on in her mind and heart. She was torn. Was she to the left or to the right? Where did she belong? What was her identity? She wanted to escape, to not have any visual reminders that her life was split in two. That big, life-altering, permanent changes had taken place. There was nowhere to escape to. This was home, and this home is now part of her identity.

We grieve forward.

For this first time since arriving home, she cried. I felt relieved. She let herself have an outlet, to allow her emotions to surface and flow freely. She kept apologizing for the photos and I kept reassuring her that it was OK. I told her that I knew it was hard. That it is OK to be angry, sad, and hurt. I reminded her that her God loves her very much; that her birth mother loves her very much; that I love her very much; that we all love her very much; that all would be OK. She held on to me and cried, as I kept telling her I would never leave her and that we are going to be alright. Once she calmed down, I helped her pick things up. I put the photos from the right and from the left in a mixed pile on her desk. All there, mixed together, in one big stack. Then, I sat on her bed and pointed to the photo of her and her birth mom.

"You miss her?" I asked. Oddly, perhaps I thought not understanding the question, she said no. I asked again. She shook her head no. I was confused. Then, she said something that reminded me that God is always in control. Always in the details, big and small.

She pointed to the picture and said, "That mom...you mom...same. I look your face, see her face. I look her face, see your face. Same. Mom." I tried to choke back my tears as I remembered Sporty telling me something very similar. He had a very special nanny during his long stay at the orphanage and one night, when he was recalling his time with her, he told me the same thing. Almost using the same words. He saw the same face. The face of mom. (I told the story about Sport's nanny in this post.) It doesn't matter that our skin color or ethnicity are different. It doesn't matter that our bloodlines hail from opposite ends of the world.

God is so much bigger than skin color and ethnic origins. God cares for his children and wants the best for them. I am continually reminded that when we step out in faith and live the Word, God shows up big time and fills in the gaps, taking care of everything we are not capable of taking care of ourselves. Oftentimes, God shows up in ways so perfect and specific, that I would be willing to bet it would be statistically impossible to happen otherwise. When my face needs to look like the face of another, God makes it happen. To bridge the gap. The heal his children. To remind us of the hope found in him.

As Christians, we are called to the bring the joy found in Christ to the world. To a broken world. To offer healing and grace and hope. Sometimes that involves facing grief in its human form to bring hope and healing to a hurting child. Sometimes it looks like things thrown around a room. I'll take it any day of the week. For a child who has only been in our home three weeks to feel comfortable enough to let her guard down and throw a fit means that she is starting to feel secure. How lucky am I to be part of her story? Her story of hope and healing.

Thank you God for allowing me the pleasure of knowing the joy found in loving and serving you. Help me to never forget!

Psalm 10:14
But you, God, see the trouble of the afflicted;
you consider their grief and take it in hand.
The victims commit themselves to you;
you are the helper of the fatherless.

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The Other Woman

2012-07-21T00:06:00.001-04:00

I think about her quite often. Daily to be exact. I have known about her for over five months now. At first, she was just a name on a piece of paper. That name was attached to a story. A story that would entwine her life with mine, her story with my story. The name on the paper, attached to a story, that attached to my life would soon become a face.

I anticipated our meeting for nearly two months. I have never in my life been faced with such a hopeless and simultaneously hopeful encounter. She was the other woman. The woman who had suffered many losses and who had endured more than I am privy to share. The woman who was losing her daughter so that her daughter can gain life. A woman, through no fault of her own, who is ostracized and ill. She was left with no other choice. She had tried every other option. Still, every door she tried to walk through was slammed in her face. There was no other family. No income. No school. No welfare system or safety net. She looks out and sees the countless children roaming the streets looking for food, work, or trouble. She knows chat and alcohol are the substances many are choosing to numb their pain. She chooses a different path for her daughter, because that is what mothers do. Mothers sacrifice so that their children can live.

This is a sacrifice and choice I wish on no one. I could not imagine. I cannot imagine.

I lost sleep thinking about our meeting. What could I possibly say to her? Offer her? What would she be like? How sickly would she look? Would she like me? Accept me? What would she ask of me?

What is wrong with the world that this is even happening? "This is not fair," I cried out to God many times. "No, God...why does she have to lose a child? Isn't there another option? Why not?," I would demand. "I want another option! Please! Both of them...we can help both of them," I pleaded.

But, I already knew this is not how international adoption works. At least not according to the rules and laws as they have been explained to me. No money, help, or support could ever be exchanged. First, a child is declared an orphan through all proper channels THEN an adoptive family is sought. Through this order of events, it (in theory) prevents any money or goods being exchanged for a child. I understand the need to create ethical practices that keep everything on the up-and-up. I understand the need to ensure the process is squeaky clean. After all, we chose an adoption agency with an unblemished record.

We wanted to welcome a child into our home who didn't have a family. This scenario was a bit messier than our previous two adoptions. I wasn't sure what God was doing, but he assured me night after night that we are to march forward. "And the widow," I would hear in the stillness of my heart. "Don't forget the widow." Was this God's way of making sure I do not forget the other part of James 1:27? A lot of us are quick to remember the orphans, but do not seem to speak as loudly and act as boldly in the widow arena. Do we simply not know what to do? I imagine that is part of it. I imagine many of us would adopt widows if we could. I know I would. There are a few, but not many trails blazed in this arena, at least that I am aware of. But God tells us that we are called to the orphans and the widows. Not the orphans or the widows. "But, how God? How? What? Where? Please, make your desires clear."

I spent the months leading up to our meeting asking God to make his will clear. I asked him to please keep a crack in the door that opens to her birth mother. Please God, do not let her drift back to her town, sick and alone, and leave us in the dark wondering what became of her. Please, please keep that door opened until we can figure out that we are supposed to do.

The day we met.

Her name on a piece a paper. Her story entwined with my story, attached to my life. Her face next to my face. We are both mothers. Both mothers to the same girl. We become one family, me and the other woman, and our daughter. We talk and learn about each other. I ask questions, she answers. She shares her story, smiles, and looks peaceful. She looks healthier than she did a few months earlier, when she wasn't sure what would become of her daughter. She has put on weight and looks at ease...which puts me at ease. Though horribly crappy, this is the best solution at this moment in time. I feel assured that this is the truth. So far from perfect and not the resolution this idealist wants, but it is the best available alternative. Big Sister was officially declared an orphan months before we ever saw her face, knew her story, learned about her birth mother. She was an orphan according to all definitions under the sun. That was her label. Her identity.

On this day in April, she would become an orphan no longer. The birth mother would consent. We would consent. The judge would approve. The paperwork was complete. The file was closed.

Two mothers. 8000 miles apart. One daughter. In some ways, I guess you could say we are caring for the widow. I don't truly believe that though, to be perfectly honest. In many ways, I believe we are not doing nearly enough to help widows and/or prevent injustices all together. These are big problems and one person or one organization will never be the answer. I know Big Sister's birth mother is at peace knowing her daughter is safe. But is she really at peace? As a mother, I am not sure I would ever be at peace knowing that giving up my child was the best alternative. What kind of crap is that?

What is the answer? How do we care for the widow? How do we care for the widow who lives 8000 miles away? I don't have an answer to that question. I would love to hear any and all suggestions or insights. Orphan care, while messy, is at least navigable. "But the widow," the silent still voice repeats in my head. "Don't forget about the widow."

The big answer, I truly believe and have said many times, is to share each other's burdens...locally, regionally, globally. Balance the scales a bit. It is not about being fair. It is not about me. It is not about you. It is not about "your" stuff or "my" stuff. It is about loving like Jesus loved. Loving others the way he loved us. It is about selfless love, even when it comes to parenting. If we truly believed that all comes from God and belongs to God, I think we would be a lot more selfless. God, help us to be more selfless. Love requires sacrifice, as you demonstrated on the cross. You gave your life so that we may have life in abundance. Help us to give our life back to you so that others may experience the abundance that most of us take for granted every day. Help us, God, to not forget the widow. Help us to love the other woman, to welcome the other woman. If there is a child in our home whom was not formed in my womb, help me remember and honor the womb where my child, our child, was perfectly knit. Lead us...light the way. Oh, and thank you for keeping that crack in the door.

James 1:27
Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

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When Your Adopted Child "Wants To Go Back"

2012-07-10T20:09:00.001-04:00

There can be few things more piercing to an adoptive parent's ears and hearts as phrases such as "You're not my real mom" and "I want to go back to (insert birth country)". Honestly, I am not sure why these phrases do not hurt me as much as I thought they would pre-adoption. (I wrote a post titled "Mean Stepmom" a while back for similar situations.) It is probably because there are too many real issues to deal with day in and day out and rather than listening to the words that come out of their mouths, I try to listen more closely to their hearts and observe more closely their daily interactions to try and discern what the real problems may be. Considering the last time Sporty told me that "he wanted to go back" the preceding event was melted cheese on his egg sandwich, I am not apt to take these phrases too seriously. Friends...I put cheese on his egg sandwich and he pouted like a five-year-old and threw out his go-to phrase when things (especially if they are topped with cheese) do not go his way. That particular time I handled it equally as a five-year-old and told him to grow up. Not mature, I know. But I digress...

With that being said, I absolutely sympathize with the fact that three of my children have lost their home country and with the adoption into our family have indeed lost a huge part of their earthly identity. I grew up in Philadelphia and if as a preteen (an emotionally volatile time to begin with) someone would have moved me away not only from my family but also the cultural context I was familiar with, to...oh, I don't know...Montana or Texas, I would almost certainly be at a loss initially. And that is with having the ability to verbally communicate and being able to fit in physically. What if I had neither language or similar physical traits and knew there was no going back. "Assimilate or Bust" is what was painted on my and your children's airplane window on the flight home. Like I have said countless times, I ask God daily to help me feel what our children are feeling so that I can best love them and parent them. I ask for their raw emotions to be ingrained in me so that I cannot forget where they come from and what they have been through. So, most of the time when these phrases are thrown my way, I know they are not truly meant and rather that there are other underlying issues such as hurt feelings or a missed cue on my part that need to be addressed.

I imagine there are indeed times when our children (and perhaps yours) do really believe that they would like to go back to their birth country. However, God spoke to my heart even before our children arrived home reassured me that these phrases, even though they might sting, are not really true, at least not on the level we might think. I tend to view them as a homesickness of sorts, an empty feeling, a disorientation that needs to be dealt with. Only, we are not orienting ourselves back to their home country (at least not in our case...that I know of. God are you laughing?) and therefore we need to direct our attention and energies to creating more compassion and unity within our family so that we can grow forward, together. Unity is a phrase I use a lot around our home. When I sense someone is trying to be divisive (such as pulling one or more children or even a parent away from the core family values so to be not alone), I tend to jump all over it. Sometimes in more of Drill Sergeant manner than mother (I am working on that), but I refuse to risk the unity of our family for the sake of any one member's particular issue at the time. Our family = cohesive unit. We are all unique and stubborn and special in our own way, and we are not together 24/7, but together we are a unit and do not exist apart from all members. God brought us together as a family for his purpose and it is our job to realize that purpose, together. We all have something to learn and teach one another. That is how I believe I God desires it to be, in my opinion.

Back on point, a not so funny story. In fact, this is probably every adoptive parent's worst nightmare. I bet you could think of nothing worse. (Well, Bethany, maybe you could think of something. I am glad your story preceded ours, otherwise I would feel lonely.) It was the day of our twelve month post placement visit and the house had been straightened up, everyone fed, and we were waiting patiently for our social worker to arrive. Sporty asked me if he could go outside and play with his friend. (Hindsight, I should have let him!) Because Stacey, our social worker, was about to show up any minute, I told him he could not and he needed to wait. Because he has the coping skills of a five-year-old at times (I am not making this up, Dr. Karyn Purvis often speaks of the emotional age of adopted children being a lot younger than their birth age), he proceeded to have an all-out meltdown. He lost control and completely unraveled. He told me he hated it here and was going to tell Stacey that he wanted to go back to Ethiopia. I told him he is free to tell her whatever he'd like. When she arrived five minutes later, that is exactly what he did. To make matter worse, Larry (always dramatic and sprinkling fuel to any half-lit fire) rushed in the room and added, "And Sporty said he also wants to die!" (Now, Sporty absolutely did not say that...Larry was just looking for a reaction. If you know him, you'd understand.) Thank goodness our social worker has known us for many years and has seen our family together on countless happy occasions. She has watched us interact in and outside of our home. I gave her a brief rundown of what had happened prior to her arrival along with explaining how he deals with being told no and asked her to kindly show up unexpected one day during the following week. She did just that and all was well. Sporty apologized and told her that he really was happy here. He explained that he just gets upset sometimes and also that things are hard sometimes. (That, I believe, was the truth coming from his heart.)

My main point is that kids (people) say a lot of things, a lot which can be very hurtful to hear. However, just like any person who has not learned to bridle their tongue, it probably causes them more harm then good and they probably do not mean exactly what they say. Please do not think that I don't take my children's words seriously. I do, but believe the truth of the words is not the words themselves but what their hearts are crying out and saying. I take that very seriously. Like, devoting my life to it seriously. As Matthew 12:34 tells us, "Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." Therefore, it is not necessarily the words themselves I need to check, but rather the condition of our children's hearts. In doing so, God also nudged me to get a better reign on my own tongue and examine the condition of my own heart. As I continue to follow his lead, I am amazed at the changes occurring in our home, my marriage, and with our children. Amazed. Simply amazed and humbled. (More to follow on this.)

Finally, I refuse to forget that adoption has never been about me or even really our children, as much as it is a reflection of my love for Jesus and my gratefulness for the eternal gift he has given me through my adoption into his kingdom. With my eyes on the Lord, it is quite easy to see how imperfect all else is in the world. Our job, I believe, is simply to love like he did and reach out and help in all ways possible. Sometimes (OK, always) loving with abandon involves the risk of getting hurt. So be it! "Bring it on," I say. I'm sure we have all hurt our parents unintentionally over the years, but they love us anyway. Our Heavenly Father loves us all unconditionally, even though I am certain we tell him many times, "But God, I want to go back....to wherever we happened to be when he redirected our paths." With that in mind, I hear the words coming out of their mouths but direct my energy to words of their hearts. I try to point their hearts toward Jesus and explain that the world is broken place. Every night, we pray together and I ask God to give our children wisdom beyond their years and his peace and reassurance that day by day, we are healing and growing together in accordance to his plan for our family. And do you know what? I am certain that every night God hears our prayers and answers. I have felt his presence more closely than ever and just because we go through trials, this does not mean we are walking alone or are off path.

Thinking back to where I was and to the person who I was before allowing God to transform me, I am amazed at all he has done through our family. Amazed. I don't even resemble the person I was five years ago, praise him! When we simply chose to let him in and direct our path, he took over. Sometimes it can be painful, but I trust Paul's words in Romans 8:28 that in all things God works for the good of those who love him. And if we love him, we are going to seek to be like him, even if it means we put ourselves out there for hurt children who will occasionally get off path and need to be redirected and reminded that there is no going back. Not for them. Not for us. Unity in Christ.

We love because he first loved us. -1 John 4:19

If you have a personal experience or advice you would like to share, please leave it in the comment section so that we can all learn from each other!

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A Hand Up, Not Hand Out and Other Communication Conundrums

2012-07-06T19:20:00.001-04:00

Communication, while a basic human function, can be exceedingly simply and yet ridiculously complex all the same time. Last week, the reality of the communication conundrum we all often experience in our daily lives was reinforced...through no other channel than that of the source daily communication conundrums worldwide: Facebook. (Insert lots of "of courses" and laughs.) All of us have been there at some point. We send a message by saying or writing something that we believe to be crystal clear and the receiver of the message hears something totally different. How does this happen? It is quite simple actually. We are each a composition of all our past life experiences; those experiences coupled with our unique identities make up our own context, which affects how we interpret the world around us.

What happened exactly? Well, to start I broke my own personal rule and posted something on Facebook that although I did not believe to be political in nature, evoked a politics-oriented thread of heated comments. You know, the kind of thread we all love to hate. One that goes nowhere and ends up with everyone feeling unheard and not validated. I say a big, "Boo" to threads like this and somehow I fell into the trap. And to that, I say a big, "Boo" to me as well. Anyway, the statement that I made was that I believe insurance company executives earn way too much money at the expense of patients and doctors. Some earn tens of thousands of dollars per day while the average American earns less than $40K per year. I implied that while the Affordable Care Act is certainly far from perfect (and to be clear I don't agree with all aspects of the plan), our current system is equally far from perfect. As you can probably imagine, my statement about insurance executives salaries was read as a campaign endorsement or sorts...someone even interpreted my statement as me supporting abortion. What?! Umm...have I mentioned I have three adopted children? I value the dignity of all human life. All!

Two good things came out of the thread. First, it was a reminder to be careful to chose my words carefully. Second, the heated discussion further cemented my belief that the widening gap between the rich and the poor is the biggest factor in our national and global problems, and absolutely needs to be addressed in our generation. Things simply cannot continue along this trajectory, with the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, without something collapsing. Most of us seem to want to focus on one or two minor details instead of looking at the bigger problems. We are majoring in the minors, all the while thirty thousand people die each day from preventable illnesses and 32 million are uninsured in America...the richest nation in the world. As my Ethiopian children would say, "Mommy, dis is a no!"

To be clear, I am not a big proponent of hand outs. As Richard Stearns (CEO of World Vision International) believes, "Hand ups and not hand outs" are the answer. Hand outs, while sometimes absolutely necessary, do not solve long term problems. They address immediate needs. Additionally, continued hand outs create a system where people are relying on the hand out and not gainfully employed, or looking to be. A great example is the broken state of our nation's welfare system. Some estimates point to an annual $60 Billion in Medicare fraud. $60 Billion! The UN estimates that only $30 Billion a year could solve world hunger. This is a problem, an extremely costly problem in terms of money and lives. It is quite clear then that stopping at the hand out and not resolving to offer a hand up does not fix bigger problems. Sounds like a lot of work, right? But then again, how many of these problems are due to the prevalent injustices in our world? As Max Lucado once said, "Many of us succeed in life simple because we were born on third base. Yet, so many others aren't even born on a team." In so many cases, human dignity has been completely destroyed. Without one's dignity, what would you or I be?

I love World Vision's model of partnering with people to ensure they are giving the hand up needed to start and sustain a purposeful existence. Their organizational model is the first that comes to mind when speaking of hand ups, not hand outs. Here is their mission statement: World Vision is an international partnership of Christians whose mission is to follow our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ in working with the poor and oppressed to promote human transformation, seek justice, and bear witness to the good news of the Kingdom of God. The key words, I believe, are partnership, working with, seeking justice, and Kingdom living. In order bear witness to the good news of the kingdom, we need to work with the marginalized and be the voice for the voiceless. As Paulo Freire wrote in The Pedagogy of the Oppressed, "True generosity consists precisely in fighting to destroy the causes which nourish false charity. False charity constrains the fearful and subdued, the "rejects of life," to extend their trembling hands. True generosity lies in striving so that these hands--whether of individuals or entire peoples--need be extended less and less in supplication, so that more and more they become human hands which work and, working, transform the world.”

Since I believe I am one of the lucky ones born on third base and that every one of God's children deserves to be on a team, you may be able to imagine how some of my beliefs and passion for justice could be misinterpreted as political statements. (This is never my intention, I assure you.) While I am certainly proud of my citizenship and value our freedom, my freedom in Christ...that is, my freedom to serve as Christ served, is a greater driving force than any political issue. Christians are called to operate outside of and within the confines of our systems. We are called not to simply memorize the Word, but to live the Word. Part of living the Word will almost undoubtedly place you in a uphill climb. However, I believe it is worth every bead of sweat, mocking joke, and sideways glance one may receive. Most importantly, you will realize you are the path with Christ because he will show up in ways you could have never planned or imagined on your own.

With the election year in full swing, I prayerfully ask you to consider directing your energies toward the real issues, the big problems that need attention. The ones that may never be addressed on the circuit or in debates, the ones neither candidate wants to touch. Be careful not to get pulled into the details and be cognizant of how either party may be using you a pawn...playing on your emotions to win a vote. That is the nature of the beast. As Christians we are called to higher living. To be grace givers and grace receivers. Most importantly, do not let the ugliness of the debates cause divisiveness in the Kingdom. Until we all become one unified body in Christ... which crosses party lines...have no doubt, it is nearly impossible to fulfill our collective purpose.

In closing, Romans 12:1-8 comes to mind:

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is —his good, pleasing and perfect will.

For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts,according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

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Transitions: Everyday We're Shuffling

2012-07-05T14:43:00.002-04:00

Has it really only been twelve days since we welcomed Big Sister home? In some ways it feels like yesterday (the days blur together); yet in other ways, it feels as it she has been part of our family much longer. Something about transitions completely amazes me. It is like watching life unfold in slow motion, yet moving at warp speed. Like holding a magnifying glass up to our household, when I dive into certain moments I can see pieces beginning to fit together: relationships forming, bonds growing, personalities figuring out how to work with each other. While this time is just the beginning of our new life together, I also believe it is such a critical and fragile time.

Big Sister comes to us from a very broken background. "Of course!" you might say. "She was an orphan, so that implies brokenness." Yes, certainly her previous orphan (current princess) status implies some sort of devastation that led to a child being separated from her or his birth family. However, as I have learned and continue to learn, there are levels of brokenness. Each child's personal history and personal composition, consisting of personality, gifts, strengths, weaknesses, etc. help to determine where exactly on the broken road the child was before being scooped up and set on a new path, a path that would eventually lead her home to us. With that in mind, this transition is a unique experience, as your transition will be as well. As the primary caregiver, I have to be cognizant of everyone's past, everyone's uniqueness, and also our collective dynamics. It is more art than science, but observation, heartfelt, compassionate observation is key, in my opinion, to making the transition a smooth as possible.

Below are some of the things I have observed in our short time home:

Sporty, the current oldest by only nine months (after trumping Larry as the oldest in 2011), is feeling a bit unsure of his new role and perhaps even a smidge jealous at times of being 'challenged' by Big Sister.
This uncertainty has led Sporty to step it up around the house when it comes to chores, being responsible, and attempting to lead.
This uncertainly has also led him to, at times, include Big Sister and welcome her and at other times push her away. There is a push-pull dynamics going on and therefore I see it as my job to encourage him to pull her in, include her, and work together as the big kids in the house. When they play together, it makes my heart happy!
Larry is over-the-moon-excited to have a big sister. He claimed her as his new best friend in the house and is already talking her ear off. Big Sister welcomes the attention, says she loves him, but also stated that he "talks a lot".
Moe is still in a not-so-fun ornery three-year-old stage. He is whiny and has a hard time accepting 'no' these days. He is almost four years old and so this is just where we happened to land developmentally when Big Sister arrived. She loves Moe and can make him laugh easily. I'm sure his whining annoys her...which reminds me that I need buy her a pair of noise reduction headphones. Welcome to preschool mania, Big Sister!
Sassy is equally thrilled to have a big sister. She also claims Big Sister for herself and has repeatedly told me, "That is my sister!" I have had to assure Sassy that Big Sister in indeed her sister, but is also a sibling to the others. This statement was welcomed with a pout and a a grunt. Big Sister whips Sassy's hair into beautiful rows and braids and they seem to enjoy each other's company.
Big Sister is patient and kind. She is quiet and somewhat reserved. She proceeds with caution into new environments and told me that it takes her time to warm up to new people and places. Most importantly, she seeks me out and embraces me as her mom. Only God!
Big Sister participates in family time and events. She plays and makes an effort to join in. However, she also needs frequent retreats from the day's activity. There is so much to take in and I know this is a very emotional time for her.
When Big Sister needs alone time, she goes to her room, puts on some music, and either reads or rests. I give her some space, but make sure to check on her frequently so that she does not feel alone.
Finally, I have observed that we are coming together quite nicely. Like the title says, everyday we're shuffling. We have to take things in stride, expect the unexpected, and be flexible enough to make changes on the fly. Everything is still so new for each one of us. We shuffle through the events of the day, and before you know it we will be a new cohesive unit. I think our new unit resembles our old one, but we now have a slightly new character and flavor.

Big Sister's hurtful past has made me reexamine some of our ways of doing business. This is actually a big part of the reason I am taking a "word fast" next week. I want to make sure my words are healing across the board. She deserves nothing less. As we continue shuffling forward, I pray for each one of us to make a more conscious effort to calm down and break out the compassion in abundance. She needs to feel safe and welcome and secure. She is so amazingly brave and has been through so much that I want us to go the extra mile in terms of welcoming her home. With five kids, I cannot promise serenity, but we can all definitely benefit from working toward a greater calm in our home.

Yesterday, we celebrated Independence Day. Our family joined a group of amazing people to tailgate, enjoy food, fellowship, and games. Then, we walked and (the kids) scooted into the city to partake in the celebration and fireworks, with DC's lights and monuments forming a majestic backdrop. As the fireworks were booming and lighting up the night sky and the kids were smiling from ear to ear, I sat amazed at the fact that eleven short days earlier, Big Sister was living on a compound without the love of a family. Now, she was surrounded by her family's love and the love of her community. Two weeks ago, I was wondering what she was doing from moment to moment. Now, I had the privilege of watching her run and play and enjoy life with the hope of brighter days to come. It reminded me that God is always a God of second chances and that you just never know when you could be the avenue to someone's second chance. Now matter how dark and messy one's past is, he is our Rock and Redeemer and the one who showed us how to love others as ourselves. Until Christ returns to brings his plan to completion, our Christian faith tells us that we are to be Christ to the world. There is no other way. By carrying one another's burdens we are all showered with spiritual blessings and are able to enjoy the peace of Christ, which surpasses all understanding.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. -Galatians 5:1

Holding My Tongue: Spending Three Days in Silence

2012-07-03T09:43:00.002-04:00

First, let me reassure you that I have no plans on becoming a monk. Communication (and especially verbal communication) is such a huge part of my existence. However, a while back I started to feel a nudge from God to speak less. As a mother of five children, I find myself saying the most ridiculous things sometimes. Then, my husband comes home from work after I have been on mama duty nearly twelve hours, and more ridiculousness is uttered. Have you been there? Have you ever stopped yourself mid-sentence and thought, "What?" It would be almost laughable, if it was not for the fact that it is often so hurtful. After the words come out of my mouth, I often wish I could shove them back in and have a do over. But, we all know it doesn't work that way. Once the words are out, the damage is done and then we tend to jump right into damage control mode, often involving more words. Words on top of words, band-aid on top of band-aid. But, what if the words never came out in the first place? What if I allowed God to help me to control my tongue? After all, gentleness and self control are two Fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) and sometimes my words are neither gentle or controlled. Ouch!

God placed this (his) desire on my heart months ago. In true procrastinator fashion I have held off, made excuses, and reasoned my way out of participating in an exercise I know God plans to use to grow my faith and continue his pruning. However, an interesting thing happened in the past two weeks. Big Sister joined our family. We went from being a family of six to a family of seven. I was expecting there be a huge upheaval in our home. Emotions everywhere. Protest. Revolt. Jealousy. However, I have been more than pleasantly surprised by essentially the exact opposite happening. In the midst of this transition, I felt a blanket or peace and calmness wash over our home. I had been praying for a calm spirit for so long. So very long. If you know me, you know that I am not calm. I am the exact opposite of calm. I am hyper to be more accurate. I run ten miles for fun if that tells you anything. But I digress. My daily prayers have included praying for calmness in the midst of our daily lives. I never expected God to dish out the tranquility right in the middle of one of our most stressful transitions, but that is exactly what God chose to do (I believe) to display his faithfulness. He truly is a God of wonder and mystery.

Because I feel like God has given me a jump start on becoming a calmer servant, I am not going to let this opportunity go to waste. It has been a gift, a completely undeserved gift at that. So, for the rest of this week, I will be praying and observing and preparing for a few days in silence. Then, starting next Monday, I am going to follow through on what I believe God wants me to do. That is, spend time in silence throughout the day. From Monday morning through Wednesday evening, I will not be speaking. Instead of using words, I will accomplish what needs to be done through gesture and action. The only words I will be using will be words of encouragement or praise. As Ephesians 4:29 states, "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that is may benefit those who listen." That is it. There will be not verbal correction from me, no harsh words, no raised voices, no sarcastic remarks, etc. Nothing. Just like most of our moms taught us: If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

There you have it. This is my experiment to rally against the excess of the words that exit my mouth each day and gain more control over my tongue and hopefully, prayerfully, achieve a more permanent spirit of internal and external calmness. I am so excited to see what lessons God has in store for me. There are a few areas that I know need pruning (impulsive, anyone?), but I know God will surprise me over the course of those three days with some hidden treasures. I know it!

If anyone is interested in joining me, I would love to journey into silence with you!

Heavenly God, please help me to gain better control of my tongue. Help me to speak less and listen more. Help me to hear your calm, still voice and follow your direction. As Psalm 19:14 prays, I pray, "May the words of my mouth and meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer."

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What I Learned While The Power Was Out

2012-07-01T10:34:00.001-04:00

This past Friday, strong storms caught much of our geographic area by surprise. With wind gusts of up to 80 mph and fierce thunderstorms ripping through, millions of us were left without power and with a big mess to clean up. Toppled trees and downed branches crushed homes and cars, claiming a handful of lives. Here, we could have build an in-law suite with the amount of branches that were left in our yard.

As we heard the storm approaching and the power was knocked out, we quickly gathered the family and headed to the basement. While I'm sure this completely frightened Big Sister, who had been living with us under one week at this point, she put on a face of courage as I am sure she has to do many times before, for situations far graver than high winds and downed power lines. The other kids were half asleep, half awake, and I headed to the window (I know, bad idea) to watch in awe as lightening lit up the dark sky more brightly than any street light ever could. I watched branches topple and our neighbor's tree come crashing down on our fence. I listened to the wind gust more ferociously than I had ever heard. Each time a surge came through, I took a deep breath and reassured the kids that we would be fine. We stayed in the basement close to an hour and waited for the storm to move out before returning to our beds. I was certain the power would return before morning and we headed to back to sleep.

When morning came, the power was still out and in full daylight we were able to observe the extent of the damage. Thankfully, our only damage was an old fence that separates our yard from our neighbor to the rear. Around the neighborhood, there were damaged roofs, crushed cars, and impassable streets. By 8:30 am, we learned of two fatalities close by. Everyone in the neighborhood was outside, amazingly with smiles on their faces, and willing to lend a helping hand as needed. As the day went on and power was yet to be restored, I was taking in the moments and mentally filing away some awesome lessons from the day. Here are some of the things I learned:

When our lives are forced to a halt, there is so much joy in sharing the time and experience with those around us. Regardless of lacking power and ridiculously high (or low, in the winter) temperatures, most people rally around each other and help to meet each other's needs. And it is joyful! Why don't we do this more often in day-to-day living?
Everyone was using the tools and skills they had to help one another. Those with power tools and chainsaws helped clear paths and cut up large tree branches. Some brought out drinks and refreshments. We all gathered outside and worked and chatted and accomplished what needed to get done.
I believe a lot of us secretly and not so secretly enjoy these occasions to unplug. With no internet, cell, or electricity, we have no choice but to either enjoy each other's company and/or a low-tech activity. Yesterday, we played board games, card games, and activities outside; I read some of my material for the Fall semester and caught up on the world news.
Kids seek each other out more when there is no incentive to plop on the couch. Pretty much every kid in our neighborhood was either outside or in the house of another family. They all looked happy. I did not hear one complaint from any kid about lack of power. Why is that? I believe that it is because there is so much joy to be found in community. There is something so instinctive about connecting with one another and with nature.

Last night as the sun set, and it became clear our power not coming back on anytime soon, a bunch of neighborhood kids were playing in our yard and suggested moving out front to play flashlight tag or manhunt. I watched Big Sister as she at first declined to play, no doubt feeling uncomfortable with not being able to fully communicate. I could tell she really wanted to play, but I was not going to force the issue. So, I moved out front with the kids as they formed teams. One of the captains picked Big Sister for her team and I saw her face light up as she moved from my side to the side of her team. I tried to hold back the tears, but you know how that mommy heart thing goes. I was filled with so much joy that she was being included in the play and that she was willing to take part, even though I know she was scared. I was silently thanking God for the wonderful kids and for their hospitality. For their willingness to reach out and make and effort to include Big Sister. For them simply being kids and doing what kids do. My heart was overflowing with praise and joy and I was once again reminded that God works in the details when we allow him.

Father God, maker of all things seen and unseen, thank you for the opportunity to unplug from our distractions and focus on things that really matter. Thank you for the opportunity to love our neighbor, to lend a helping hand, to be helped, and to enjoy your creation without all of the beeping and buzzing. Thank you for children and for their ability to love and adapt and simply play. Help us all to be more childlike and thoughtful in our day-to-day interactions. Today, with power restored, we are given the choice to close back off from the outside world or to continue to reach out to our neighbors. Help us to continue to reach out, even when there may be no blatant reason. We never know when someone may need a helping hand or listening ear. In your precious Son's name we lift up our prayers, Amen.

Manhunt

Big Sister's Homecoming: Initial Observations

2012-06-26T15:18:00.001-04:00

I completely forgot how absolutely surreal it feels to land on our country's soil after the marathon of the adoption process. Just like a mother in labor will tell you that the instant she holds God's precious new life in her arms she forgets all about the pain, the same can be said for an adoptive parent. The second our plane touched down, a flood of emotions rushed over me. We did it! We are home! The moment we have all been longing for. The end of the paper pregnancy and the beginning of life together, with everything that will entail. And so we go: to our new home together, with our new family arrangement, and off to explore God's creation together as we journey on a path in a broken world that is filled with God's hope, God's mercy and love, and God's promise of righting all wrongs. For now, we simply do as he commands: love others as ourselves. Bear each other's burdens. As Paul states in Galatians 6:2, "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." When we do that, I have learned, the blessings flow. Spiritual blessings that continue to reveal the truth of creation and Christ; spiritual blessings that instill a peace that the world could never provide.

Now, you are going to have to bear with me here. I am tired, probably unknowingly jet-lagged, and full of raw emotions right now. However, there is something I absolutely needed to share. God is amazingly faithful when we love his children. Before coming home with Sporty and Sassy in 2010, I had so many fears, so many questions. How would I fix her hair? How do we communicate when our children speak a different language? How would we get up to speed with schoolwork? Will Sporty learn English? Would I learn to prepare food that they would eat and enjoy? How will our bio children react to the new arrangement? Would we be good parents? Would Sporty and Sassy (and now Big Sister) accept me as their mother? Would I love all of of my children equally? The list goes on. You name it, I've questioned it. Big, small, and indifferent.

I didn't have nearly as many questions this time, because over the past seventeen months, I have watched as God faithfully provided all that we needed to get through each day, each situation, each hiccup. When we asked, God responded. When we humbled ourselves and relied on him, he came through. Every time. Still, a new child is a unique creation with a unique history and set of circumstances that led to orphan status. I am not naive and know this road ahead will be full of challenges. With that in mind, I simply prayed, "God, I trust you and your wisdom. I want to be your humble servant; to love what you love and do as you would desire. Please give us wisdom and patience and calmness and peace. Please provide clear direction and all that we need to help us to help each one of our children realize the gifts and talents that you have given them for your glory. Help us to be the best parents we can be so that our children grow to know your heart and understand your love, so that they may serve you with everything you have given them." This simple prayer (or something similar) is what we pray as every night. God hears our prayers and responds. Let me just share a few of the amazing things that have happened in our two days home with Big Sister.

While in Whole Foods yesterday (48 hours after touching down), I was not in the store five minutes before being approached by a complete stranger. "I'm sorry, I feel led to come talk to you," she said. "Is your daughter (how did she know?) from Ethiopia? She is a beautiful girl. (Insert a few questions. Back and forth conversation while, I believe, God is revealing the beauty of adoption to her heart.) I have an Ethiopian friend who just opened a hair salon in town. If you want to bring your daughter in, I'm sure she would love to see her." Sounds good. Thank you! I take down the number and proceed to the next aisle where I am immediately stopped by an Ethiopian businesswoman. "Hi, my name is Abbie," she says. (A few questions and back and forth conversation while she processes.) "I would love to give you my phone number just in case you need any help during the first few months home. I know how difficult it is for a child to leave her country. My kids were begging me to take them back (to Ethiopia) for the first few years here, but now they are adjusted and this is home. Please call me with any needs. Also (and here is where it gets funny), there is an orthodox church I take my kids to. I don't go, because...well...the service is 6-7 hours and that is just torture. I drop them off and go take a nap. You should do the same. The kids have great fun and they all speak Amharic." So, I take down her contact information and proceed through the store being stopped two more times by Ethiopian-Americans willing to help us with our transition in any way possible. For those of you who don't remember, very similar things happened when we arrived home with Sporty and Sassy. One of the families that initially reached out to us has become wonderful friends and I thank God for the blessing they have been to our family. My point is, when we are faithful to God's desire for us to reach out and help others, he responds in kind. My faith tells me so, but my eyes also bear witness. We are all part of God's family!

Big Sister has blessed our family in so many ways, and she has only been home three days. I am simply amazed at the way our children immediately clung to one another and accepted each other as family. They knew. God prepared them as we all prayed for each other. In the states, we have been praying for Big Sister for months. In Ethiopia, she has been praying for us. God heard, responded, and did what only he can do. He united us in his love and is creating his heart in us, as he guides us to love like he does. Big Sister has jumped right in. She is a willing helper, an amazing sister, a driven student, a gentle spirit, and a beautiful child of God. As we continue our initial transition, I want to thank each one of you for the part you played in our story. We are surrounded by such wonderful, loving, and supportive family and friends. Your story is weaved into ours and I don't want that to go unnoticed or unappreciated. We love you all and thank you for journeying with us. God is faithful!

"Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." -Matthew 25:37-40

The Lost Art of "Because I Said So"

2012-06-17T16:57:00.000-04:00

On this Father's Day weekend, I found it fitting to reflect on one of my own father's most favorite sayings: Because I said so! He had a shirt with this saying on it, so that when he got tired of actually saying those words, he could just point to his chest. Perhaps many of you grew up with parents who also loved that phrase. I, for one, promised myself (at the wise age of fifteen or sixteen) that when I grew up and had a family of my own, I would never use that phrase. Many of you may have made that same promise. I swore that I would give my children explanations and reasons, answer their persistent questioning and demands with a calm and patient demeanor, and seek to help them understand why they can or cannot do whatever they are asking to do, have whatever they are asking to have, or go wherever the are appealing to go. That was my promise and I stuck to it for a good while...nearly my first years as a parent. Specifically, when the only children in our home were preschoolers, when there was only two of them, when their questions were primarily based on curiosity and wanting to explore their world, and when the only material items they asked for could be purchased at the Dollar Store.

Then, our family grew.

We added a tween, Larry continued to ask at least five thousand questions per day, Moe entered a horribly whiny, three-year-old phase, Sassy would repeat everything Moe said or asked, in his same whiny tone, and neighborhood kids flocked to our home to play, bringing with them their own barrage of questions. I was getting hit with questions from every angle. Persistent questions, nagging questions, questions still based on curiosity, questions as to my reasoning on why we cannot have ice cream every night, questions from the neighborhood kids as to why they can't play football in the same space the preschoolers are using to scoot around, questions as to why they can or cannot have/do/go whatever might happen to be on their minds at the moment.

Then one day, I remembered some magic words. I know I promised I would not use them, but after all we are not going to have the tail wagging the dog on my watch. Hey kids...check this out: BECAUSE I SAID SO...THAT'S WHY! Do you understand? No, OK...we can try it again. Go ahead ask for something. You want an iPod touch? No can do. You know why? Because I said so! Now, to be certain, we do discuss our reasoning for everything from the physical world we live in to our eternal Christian belief system. We discuss and learn and explore all day long. I love learning and growing and building critical thinking skills. Answering questions from my children brings me much joy and pleasure. It it one of the most rewarding parts of parenting, in my opinion. However, sometimes the answer is just going to be the resurrected age-old adage: because I said so. No additional reasoning, nothing to explain. Plain and simple.

I actually put this phrase to use today, you know...to honor my father on Father's Day. The younger kids were playing on our new wet/dry bounce house outside. They jumped and climbed and slid and splashed for hours. When they were finished playing, we turned the castle on its side so it could dry off before being deflated and put away. While it was on its side, the older kids decided to use it for pitching practice and a soccer goal. Every time they threw or kicked a ball, the castle would inch back, eventually landing on our concrete driveway. I was observing their play from our upstairs window while doing laundry. Because our concrete driveway is a rough surface and the bounce house was not cheap, I opened the window and told them not to play there, that the bounce house was drying off and to leave it alone. Three boys were trying to give me every reason under the sun as to why they should still play there and why the bounce house would be OK. Hey boys...guess what? Don't play there. Got it? Do you know why? BECAUSE I SAID SO. And off they went. Hopped on their bikes and rode back to the pool.

Sometimes, the cause of my stress and frustration is that I try to give too many reasons or explanations as to why things are as they are. With five children, I simply cannot do this without forsaking my sanity. I would be fielding questions all day long. It seems that many parents today have ended up on the opposite end of the spectrum from that of our parents. Not wanting to be the "Because I said so" types, we try to explain and reason all of our actions. Sometimes there is nothing to explain or reason and I need my children to understand that I do want to help them grow and explore, but they need to respect the role of the parent in the home and accept their position as child. As such, there is a time and place to discuss our rules and there is a time and place to simply comply with them. If they are confused as to what time it might be, I tell them to default to comply.

Finally, Scripture is pretty clear in the area of relations between children and parents. Children are to obey and honor their parents. Parents are not to provoke their children to anger (Ephesians 6:1-4). As you can see, there is responsibility on both the part of the parent and child. If I were only to go around saying "Because I say so" all day long, I would not be fulfilling my duty to God as a mother. However, my children need to be raised to understand that God created an orderly universe, and as such, we create our lives in an orderly way. With five children, and all of the intricacies that come with older-child international adoption, our home would be complete chaos without honoring certain roles and functions. Personally, I have found it extremely beneficial in our marriage for my husband and I to remind each other regularly that we each need to be submitting to God's will. By doing so, it takes stress of our marriage relationship and instead points our prayers, energy, and focus toward God. God, in turn, helps us reorganize ourselves, our marriage and home, and relationships with our children. When our relationship with God is right, our marriage relationship is strong, and we are both better parents for it. However, the primary relationship will always be between each individual and our eternal God and all other relationships grow from there.

With that being said, never be afraid to dust off and bring back to life a good 'ole "Because I said so" once in a while. It kinda feels good to say it and if nothing else, buys you are little more time to think of a more articulate way to handle whatever situation you may find yourself in.

Happy Father's Day!

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