When they reached the place God had told him about, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then he reached out his hand and took the knife to slay his son. [Genesis 22:9-10, NIV]

My heart choked up as I read this passage… a passage I’ve read so many times before. Because I have a son now. One who I love more than words. One I could never imagine sacrificing. And then I thought about what this passage was a foreshadow of. Abraham didn’t end up having to sacrifice his beloved son because God provided a sacrifice for him in the form of a ram. And a while later, God provided the sacrifice again in the form of His beloved Son, Jesus. On the cross. For us. For me.

I just can’t wrap my head around it, you know? I could never, ever willingly give up Elliot for the sake of someone else. I would give myself up first in a heartbeat. But God, who feels love infinitely deeper than I ever could, whose emotions ours is just a shadow of, gave up his beloved so that I, in my brokenness, sinfulness, and messiness, could be reconciled, redeemed, and restored. This blows me away. It does something to my heart.

As I think of God watching His son as he is nailed to the cross to die a cruel and agonizing death in order to bear the weight of humanity’s sin… of my sin, my heart aches for the Father as much as my heart aches for the Son who endured it all. How much would He have felt? How broken must His heart have been.

How this cruel and horrific act can be the pinnacle of the most intense love story is just… I really don’t have the words. Because what the sacrifice made by God the Father and Jesus, His Son, indicates to me is that I am so overwhelmingly, achingly, and supremely loved. Because all of that was for us. For me. So that I can be adopted into God’s family and be a co-heir with Christ, enjoying the incredible hope, joy, and love that comes from my inheritance.

I’ve known all this. I’ve known it practically my whole life. I know that Jesus died on the cross and that He was raised again in three days. I know that God is love, that Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so. But again, God has reminded me through His Word, the reality of His love, what that meant to Him, what that means to me. I didn’t really specifically ask God to prepare me during this Lent season for Easter, but He is doing so and I am so thankful… so utterly grateful for His unimaginable love for me. The things I’ve been worrying about, the stress and the pressures of my life… not that they’re not real, but I remember again that I have a Father who loves me, who takes care of me, who will go (actually already has gone) to the ends of the earth for me, and that gives me an overwhelming sense of peace.

How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss,
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory

[from How Deep The Father’s Love For Us by Phillips, Craig, & Dean]

Blessings by Laura Story

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering

All the while You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near?

What if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough

And all the while You hear each desperate plea
And long that we’d have faith to believe

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near?

And what if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?

When friends betray us, when darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It’s not our home

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near?

What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst
This world can’t satisfy?

And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise?

This past weekend you turned three! When we first moved to Maryland, you were this little four-month old baby and now you’re this big little boy with so much personality and character. My, how time does indeed fly.

You are such a funny kid, you know. You make us laugh each and every day. From your silly expressions to your crazy sleeping positions, even the way you throw tantrums, you crack us up over and over again. You are so playful and your smile lights up your whole face.

These days you love dinosaurs, balls, cars, trucks, Thomas the train, and your new drumset! You are a little busybody moving from toy to toy. But reading… oh my goodness, reading. It is still your favorite thing and you will sit down and squish into our side as we read to you. You make us read this book to you multiple times every single day…

You got a new drumset from your grandparents for your birthday and you seriously have talent. I’m sure our neighbors hate us now but you love it and you are so good!

There’s so much more I can say, but how do I summarize how I feel for you in words when my heart explodes with love for you? You make my heart smile. You are such a sweetheart and I love that you are still a cuddlebug at times. You are becoming independent and you understand everything we say. You observe the world and make connections every day.

During your first year of life, it was all kind of a blur with so many doctors, specialists and therapists. We were overwhelmed with your diagnosis and health condition and with moving to a new state. My biggest concern was getting you the best treatment and getting you to all your appointments.

During your second year of life, my emotions finally caught up to me and I went through a long, dark period of grieving and processing all that had happened. Understand that I wasn’t sad or angry because of you… you were and are perfect just as you are. I was thrilled with you. But God was leading me through a journey of letting go and redefining my values and my measure of success.

But this past year, your third year of life, has been so much fun. I have never laughed so much. It is such a joy being your mom. I feel so lucky every day. In this upcoming year, I know that things are going to change. When we bring your little brother home, we will become a family of four and although it is going to be awesome, it won’t be the same. So until that time, I will cherish each day with just you.

I love you so much my little one. I am so proud of you.
엄마

As I was driving home tonight, the Christmas song on the radio came to an end and the host took a call from a mom wanting to dedicate a song to her four children who were at that moment decorating the Christmas tree with her. It was evident in her voice that she was so proud of them and called them the “best kids ever.” When the radio host asked her what made her children so amazing, the mom listed the following:

• They play baseball, soccer, and tennis.
• They are in orchestra, band, and choir.
• They get all As and Bs and are on the honor roll.

At that moment my smile fell and I turned off the radio, not even waiting to hear the song she dedicated to them. I felt sad for her kids who most likely listened to their mother’s effusions and who probably didn’t even realize that all the things their mom boasted about were based on their performance and achievement.

My years in youth ministry have shown me that this type of thinking is very prevalent in parents. A child’s worth and value is not placed on who they are as a person, but on their abilities and achievements. I wonder if the radio mom would be just as ebullient and enthusiastic if her kids were clumsy and non-athletic, if they were tone-deaf and musically challenged, if they were average students who got decent grades and never made the honor roll.

When I worked with teenagers before having Elliot, it was easy to judge and condemn parents, blaming them for the self-esteem issues and the incredible amount of stress the adolescents were struggling with. Now I’m not so quick to judge. Well I just judged that radio mom… but now I take a step back and look at myself too.

I wonder if my focus on Elliot meeting his milestones is just a pre-cursor to wanting him to achieve, achieve, achieve. What do I value as success for my children? What do I want to be proud of them for? Here would be my list:

• They are loving and kind to others, showing compassion and care.
• They have a confidence from within that comes from knowing they are loved by God.
• They try their best in whatever they do and work hard.
• They are creative, inquisitive, and love to learn.

Looking at the radio mom’s list and then my list, I realize that my list is a lot harder to do parenting-wise. I can’t just enroll my children in sports and drive them around. I can’t just get them music lessons and teachers. I can’t just push and push for them to do well academically. My list requires a lot of modeling and teaching by example. It requires a lot of intentional parenting and experience-making. It requires being okay with messiness and mistakes. It requires a lot of praying.

I’m still fairly new to this whole parenting-gig and it’s definitely been a work-in-progress. But looking forward to who I want my children to be in the future really helps me to evaluate how I am now as a parent. By the grace of God, I pray that as they grow up, my children will know that I am so proud of them for who they are and not just what they do.

On most days it doesn’t really bother me that Elliot is not like other kids. On most days his delays and differences are non-issues and they don’t make me stop and think. In fact, on most days, I’m thankful for them. Not that I’m not aware of them… I am very aware. I am aware every time I drop him off at daycare and see little babies a whole year younger than him walking and running as if it was the easiest thing in the world. I am aware every time I see my neighbor’s child who is 8 months younger than Elliot talking and verbally articulating her wants. I am aware every time his physical therapist, speech therapist, and special instructor come to our house for his sessions. I am aware that he is different but normally it doesn’t bother me because his fight to meet each milestone has made him so uniquely him and I wouldn’t want him any other way.

But some days… days like today… it bothers me. Some days it hits me that I am a parent of a special needs child, that we have to go through a lot of things that most other families know nothing about. Today, after almost three hours at the ophthalmologist’s office, we learned that Elliot needs glasses. My TWO year old has to wear glasses.

I know that glasses will help him see clearer and will help his eyes focus and not wander. I know that they’re beneficial for him and I’m thankful that he can get them. But just like the orthotic braces he wears on his feet every day, glasses will be another physical and outward reminder that so many things in life will always be a little bit harder for my son.

And that’s what brings me to tears. My son with his affectionate heart, his humor, his eyes that squinkles when he smiles, his curiosity, and his perseverance, will probably always have to work harder for things that come so naturally to his typical peers. Just like he worked and worked on building strength to roll, to crawl, and to finally walk, he’ll have to put in so much effort just to do the things that everyone else does without a second thought.

And it’s okay. That’s his lot in life and it’s going to be fine. But sometimes, just sometimes, my heart rebels at the injustice of it all and I ask God why He had to make it so hard for my precious child. It’s not Elliot’s fault he was born with a genetic “deficiency” (as his dentist… well his FORMER dentist, kept calling it) but yet he has to deal with all the implications of it for the rest of his life. And so just sometimes when I let my mind go there, the tears fall and the heart aches for the loss of the “normal” and “healthy” future I had envisioned for my child.

But tomorrow morning this feeling will pass as it always does. And I will research the best glasses I can get for my kid and ask around for the best children’s optical place because that’s what I do. Because I can’t dwell on the “whys” and the “what could have beens.” My job as a parent is to do the absolute best for him and if that means getting him glasses so that he can see better, than gosh darn it that’s what I’m going to do. And at the end of the day, I’m going to thank God that I have the privilege of parenting this awesome kid and the means of providing him with everything he needs.

So on days like today when the reality of things hits a little too hard, I rest on the knowledge that days like this are few and far between… and I just let the tears flow. Because I know that my God is big enough to handle my rants and rebellions and that He is compassionate enough to help me eventually see past all of the hurt and the pain to see how incredibly blessed I am for all of it… ALL of it.

I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean;
I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols.
I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you;
I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.
And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to
follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.

Ezekiel 36:25-27 (NIV)

Photo by: Rachel Titiriga (Flickr)

Last month you turned TWO. WOW. I remember when you were my little, rotund baby boy:
I really can’t call you my baby anymore because you’re not… but I still do. You are now this independent little person with opinions and  mobility and a sense of humour. Since you started walking a little while ago, you’ve been on the go, go, go. As a result of your increased activity, I can see your chubby cheeks becoming less biteable and your fat little buddha-belly slowly slimming down.

I am so thrilled that you are growing and developing, but a part of me sheds a tear because you’re growing up so fast. At night, even though you don’t really need it to fall asleep, I still love to hold you in my arms while rocking and singing you to sleep. I love this cuddle time because I know that I won’t always be able to do it and I love how you fit and meld into my body.

You’re a little boy through and through. Every day you come home from school with a new cut or scrape because you’re getting into everything. You especially love playing with the little your-sized faucet there. You get your clothes drenched all the time and so you come home with a new shirt on almost every day. Last week your teacher told us that you took another kid’s shoe that fell off and put it in the sink and then turned the water on. EEK! I guess you thought his shoe was dirty. Let’s not do that anymore, okay?

You started going to daycare full-time right after you turned two. You love it so much, especially being around other kids. All the teachers love you and they are so good to you. It’s so cute to watch you actually interact and play with your friends. Every day when we pick you up, the teachers always tell us that you ate well. That never surprises us. You might not always nap well, but you always eat well. You love the food they give you at school. You love food in general. You are our child through and through.

Yesterday morning I tried taking a two year old picture with your #2. Out of over 50 shots, the ones above were the most normal. The other ones were hilarious. It was you vs. mommy and you definitely won this battle. I remember a time when you would just stay where I placed you. This time around, I had 1.5 seconds to get a shot before you would move or try to get off the couch. I made the outtakes into a little video because it so shows your personality. I laughed as I went through the pictures.

My dear child, these last two years have been the best years of my life. I can’t imagine my life without you and you have made me a better person. You bring joy to so many people. You are funny, affectionate, curious, smart, and just so, so loveable. You are truly God’s incredible gift and we are so blessed to be your parents.

I can’t wait to see what this new year holds for you.
Love, 엄마

I have to admit, it was hard. It was hard to sit alone with no music, no phone, no distractions. It was hard to quiet my soul and just say, “God, here I am.” My mind was racing, especially about my family and our future. You see, the day before, on Friday, Robert and I attended an all-day pre-adoption education workshop. It was one of the last requirements we needed to finish before getting assigned a social worker and starting the homestudy process. The workshop was good but we ended up leaving there with a lot on our minds. We learned that if there’s one thing certain about international adoption, it’s that nothing is certain.

Uncertainty.

Everything seems uncertain at this point. I have no idea where we’ll be living at the end of next year. I have no idea what kind of job I’ll have and where I want my career to go. I have no idea when we’ll be placed with our child, if that child is already born, whether it will be a girl or a boy, if the child will have special needs, if he or she will take to us right away, and the list goes on.

All these things weighed heavily on my mind and heart as I sat in a random hotel hallway. I didn’t even know what to ask of God except for peace. I didn’t know how to quiet my soul. And then Robert walked by and said that Elliot was hungry. My dad, who had flown out to watch Elliot while we went to the adoption class, was watching him in the hotel room. So I got up and went to our room.

I placed Elliot on the desk and I sat on the chair facing him and feeding him crackers and cereal bars (and other unhealthy objects). I smiled as he played with those postcards they leave on hotel desks and then our eyes met. He smiled a brilliant smile at me and suddenly, as if I heard the very voice of God, my mind echoed this phrase: “even in uncertainty, there is perfection.”

Because Elliot’s life has been such an uncertainty to me as well. Because of his genetic condition, we are always monitoring and watching him to make sure he’s okay and developing appropriately. There are delays and we are continually wondering when he’ll reach the next milestone. BUT this process, although somewhat overwhelming, has been such a great thing for us. We’ve learned and changed and grown so much.

Everything about Elliot screams perfection to me even though he’s not like other kids. And so in that split second where Elliot and I connected in such a happy way, God told me I had nothing to worry about… and then my heart and my mind finally grew still. After the snack, I put Elliot on our bed and I laid next to him, patting him and willing him to take a long-needed nap. And I whispered prayers of thanks to Him for reminding me that just because something is uncertain, doesn’t mean it can’t be just what we need.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s a light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free!

Through death into life everlasting
He passed, and we follow Him there;
Over us sin no more hath dominion—
For more than conquerors we are!

His Word shall not fail you—He promised;
Believe Him, and all will be well:
Then go to a world that is dying,
His perfect salvation to tell!

Look to Me, and be saved, all you ends of the earth!
For I am God, and there is no other.
Isaiah 45:22 (NKJV)

It was laid back; we didn’t even pray except for before the meal (oops). We just talked and laughed and whiled the night away. It was nice. This is what Robert and I were craving our first year here in Maryland before we found this church. What I love most about our community is how eclectic we are. Around our table last night were whites, black, koreans, chinese, and mixed. Our ages were 50-something, 40-something, 30-something, and 20-something. We came from all different backgrounds. And yet, as we sat and ate and talked together, we were a family.

I always find it amazing how God can bring together people who would have NEVER met/associated otherwise. Real, legit community… it’s a beautiful thing.