Two years ago, Jake and I were getting ready to embark on our journey to Ukraine to meet the newest member of our family. We were waiting on a travel date from our team in Ukraine and were preparing our home and our hearts for whomever God had waiting for us. Our dossier, that had already been approved by the Ukrainian government, specifically stated 1-2 children, ages 0-7, with mild or correctable special needs. For the record, we had no idea what that meant. There are tons of labels and diagnoses thrown around in adoption world that really could mean so much more or so much less than what they actually mean so that's just a vague generalization. But we didn't know that then. A week before we were scheduled to fly out, I got an urgent email from a team member saying that I needed to call her. I did. And what she said to me was this, "I think that you should strongly reconsider your travel. From what I hear from our team, there are only children available with severe special needs. Nobody wants them." We said yes anyways. And about a month later, we met David, and 16 of his friends at the orphanage. Some of them had very obvious physical special needs. Some of them appeared just as healthy as David. "These could NOT be the children that nobody wants," I thought to myself. I had no idea that the idea of "special needs" would be redefined for me in the next several months.
Our first several weeks with David home were both heartbreaking and triumphant. Many of you followed our story and know of the things he was limited to. At 5 years old he could not hold a utensil (eating or writing or otherwise) because his muscles were so weak over his entire body from malnourishment. He couldn't chew things that were gooey or tough because the muscles in his face were so underdeveloped from having so few textural options with food. He had never seen toilet paper. Had never taken a warm bath or shower. He had never worn a pair of shoes that actually fit his feet, and as a result, had a very noticeable gait when he walked. He did not know how to be held. He was violent and would fight horribly against affection. He would spit and kick at night and not sleep for fear that he would be injured in his sleep, like he was in the orphanage. And these things, the results of his horrid living conditions, deemed him "special needs". And ALL of these things, and so much more, he has moved past. He has outgrown. He has developed and grown and has real feelings and likes and dislikes and opinions and tantrums and "stuff". And he also has needs. Very real needs. Very real needs that are special. And you know what? That makes him EXACTLY LIKE EVERY OTHER CHILD.
The most important and valuable thing that I have learned in the last year and 9 months of parenting a child that is deemed "special needs" is that every child is special needs. They don't fit in a box. They can't and shouldn't be compared to their peers. They not only require to be parented differently, but they deserve to be parented differently. Each of them.
Before we began this journey, I had never heard of sensory processing disorder, oppositional defiance disorder, reactive attachment disorder, stemming, low muscle tone, secondary trauma, etc. etc. etc. This list is infinitely long. The first time we walked into our occupational therapy evaluation I was completely overwhelmed with the details that go into a childs operating systems and development. And it was humbling. It was humbling to be a mother to two biological children that I swore I had done everything right with them and yet still, some of these things, these disorders, these quirks. I recognized them in my bio babies too. It took me weeks to reconcile that. It took me even longer to come to terms with the fact that a lot of people will tell us that something's wrong with my kids......and even longer to convince myself that they aren't broken. They are the way God made them. There isn't anything wrong with their ticks. There is something wrong with a society that tells us that children should be parented 1 way and that children should behave 1 way.
I have 3 very different children. With very different needs. And so do you. Your kids are special needs too. Yes, you. Because they are special. Not special in the way that the world defines "special". Special in the way that God defines it.....unique, fearfully and wonderfully made, perfectly created. And they have needs. Very unique and individual needs to fit their very unique and individual makeup. And some of their needs are BIG and physical and/or behavioral and require 100% of your time and some of their needs are small but still needs, nonetheless....... But in the end, they're all different. Can we all remember that?
I have to remind myself every day. Every Sunday when I drop two kids off at kids church and the same usher for the last 10 months every single Sunday says to me "you know we have a kids ministry" as he looks down at child number 3, I have to remind myself, "I am this childs mother. And I know his need. And their sitting still and being quiet skills are better than half the adults in here. so shut it." Every time a mom that doesn't know anything about our story compares a very happy bubbly child standing next to their very sad and mopey sibling and questions the difference. Every time that same mopey kid announces a half truth that turns heads. I remind myself......they are each different. And they each have needs that are special. And I will meet those needs to the best of my ability. And that is literally ALL I can do.
If you're the mom that questions other moms, just stop. There's a lot to be said for solidarity. We all need support. If you don't understand, that's okay. But that's not the other moms fault. If you're the mom with the kids that always get you the looks from the moms that I just mentioned, you're amazing. Your children will grow up knowing that their mom loved them enough to fight for them and with them through all of their crazy little quirks. Keep pushing through, moms. Moms of all children, that are all special, with special needs.
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
A Real Quick One.....
I've been quiet for some time. Sometimes we lose our voice and sometimes we choose to not let it be heard. Either way, while I have A LOT to say most of the time, this is just a real quick one before bed.
Some friends of ours gave us this book.....
http://www.amazon.com/From-Pride-Humility-Biblical-Perspective/dp/1885904371
...and I feel certain that Jake and I both rolled at our eyes at the Title. Does anyone truly desire to read a book about finding humility? But we read it. The whole 31 pages (yes, that's all). And it was a gut check. And we were truly humbled. And learned so much about pride and how prideful we were without even recognizing that it was pride. I think that I always associated humility with being walked all over. And in fact, that's not at all what it is. Humility will look different for everyone. But I know for certain, that if each of you reads this book and goes through the 30 characteristics of a prideful person, you will find yourselves saying "check....check check check" and realizing just how crappy you really are. (insert awkward laughter)
Anyways, since we finished reading it a few weeks ago it's been there in my head "what does humility look like for me?" and I've answered my own question daily. It's there when I completely go psycho mom crazy and flip out on a child for wanting to wear tennis shoes when I ask them to wear flip flops.....and then I apologize and ask them for forgiveness. It's there when I shut the cabinet door with the protein shakers in it that somehow mysteriously gets left open every single time a certain individual in our house drinks a protein shake (twice a day.....you know who you are) and instead of saying "no worries, I'll close the cabinet" with a snotty tone in my voice, I just close it gently, keep my trap shut and move on. It's there when the doctor is running an hour and 10 minutes behind (this is no joke) and the receptionist doesn't understand why I would possibly want to reschedule the appointment despite the fact that she has no idea how long it may actually be until I'm able to see the doctor and I keep my cool, and just reschedule.....without berating or reminding them of their one job. It's there when a foot is stomped or a sibling fight breaks out. It's there when I'm tired and grumpy in the morning but chatty cathy and friends want to talk immediately and at elevated volumes. It's there. And I'm not perfect. I still mess up every day. But I'm closer than I was before. Isn't that what we can do? We can't change everything about ourselves overnight. We can't wave a wand and undo all of the bad habits that we've spent our entire lives "doing". We do what we can and pray that God meets us in our effort and know confidently that He will.
Jake and I were at the gym this morning and it was chest day (the worst of all my days.....except shoulders. But I quit doing shoulder day once I decided I actually want to have a neck). It was getting to the end of the workout and the adrenaline is pumping and I'm feeling all strong and Need to Breathe "Able" came on Pandora.......
https://youtu.be/rmMZezhSI0I
"And though I feel, I'm just as strong as any man I know, I'm not able, I'm not able, I'm not able, on my own......"
And there it was. Jake and I are strong. Not like Patrick Swayze in Roundhouse strong, but strong like, we can do it. We don't ask for help. We just do it. We are the people that got a "U" for Unsatisfactory in grade school for "works well with others" because we know we can get it done in the most efficient and expeditious manner possible and you other jokers can just watch. And for whatever reason, God thought it would be awesome to have us marry each other to exponentially complicate our lack of working well with others (you can laugh.....I am). But this is just how we are. And God made us this way. He truly did. He created our personalities in this manner with a very specific purpose, just like He did with each of you. But just like how man took a good thing and tainted it in the garden of Eden, we've done the same thing with our independence and strong personalities. And rather than use them, we've tried to own them. There is a thin line between knowing you are capable and feeling as if nobody else is capable other than you. And when we start to lose control, we try to control in stronger, larger ways and it turns into us saying to God "no thanks, don't need You. You made me this way. I got this." But getting back to basics........if our goal as Christians in this life and the next is sanctification, how will we ever get there on our own? We can't. It is literally impossible. It occurred to me today that sanctification begins where pride ends. I'm not able, at all, on my own. That is what humility looks like for me. Rediscovering the goal, and realizing that I can't reach it without the One that created it.
Order the book, people. 31 pages.
Some friends of ours gave us this book.....
http://www.amazon.com/From-Pride-Humility-Biblical-Perspective/dp/1885904371
...and I feel certain that Jake and I both rolled at our eyes at the Title. Does anyone truly desire to read a book about finding humility? But we read it. The whole 31 pages (yes, that's all). And it was a gut check. And we were truly humbled. And learned so much about pride and how prideful we were without even recognizing that it was pride. I think that I always associated humility with being walked all over. And in fact, that's not at all what it is. Humility will look different for everyone. But I know for certain, that if each of you reads this book and goes through the 30 characteristics of a prideful person, you will find yourselves saying "check....check check check" and realizing just how crappy you really are. (insert awkward laughter)
Anyways, since we finished reading it a few weeks ago it's been there in my head "what does humility look like for me?" and I've answered my own question daily. It's there when I completely go psycho mom crazy and flip out on a child for wanting to wear tennis shoes when I ask them to wear flip flops.....and then I apologize and ask them for forgiveness. It's there when I shut the cabinet door with the protein shakers in it that somehow mysteriously gets left open every single time a certain individual in our house drinks a protein shake (twice a day.....you know who you are) and instead of saying "no worries, I'll close the cabinet" with a snotty tone in my voice, I just close it gently, keep my trap shut and move on. It's there when the doctor is running an hour and 10 minutes behind (this is no joke) and the receptionist doesn't understand why I would possibly want to reschedule the appointment despite the fact that she has no idea how long it may actually be until I'm able to see the doctor and I keep my cool, and just reschedule.....without berating or reminding them of their one job. It's there when a foot is stomped or a sibling fight breaks out. It's there when I'm tired and grumpy in the morning but chatty cathy and friends want to talk immediately and at elevated volumes. It's there. And I'm not perfect. I still mess up every day. But I'm closer than I was before. Isn't that what we can do? We can't change everything about ourselves overnight. We can't wave a wand and undo all of the bad habits that we've spent our entire lives "doing". We do what we can and pray that God meets us in our effort and know confidently that He will.
Jake and I were at the gym this morning and it was chest day (the worst of all my days.....except shoulders. But I quit doing shoulder day once I decided I actually want to have a neck). It was getting to the end of the workout and the adrenaline is pumping and I'm feeling all strong and Need to Breathe "Able" came on Pandora.......
https://youtu.be/rmMZezhSI0I
"And though I feel, I'm just as strong as any man I know, I'm not able, I'm not able, I'm not able, on my own......"
And there it was. Jake and I are strong. Not like Patrick Swayze in Roundhouse strong, but strong like, we can do it. We don't ask for help. We just do it. We are the people that got a "U" for Unsatisfactory in grade school for "works well with others" because we know we can get it done in the most efficient and expeditious manner possible and you other jokers can just watch. And for whatever reason, God thought it would be awesome to have us marry each other to exponentially complicate our lack of working well with others (you can laugh.....I am). But this is just how we are. And God made us this way. He truly did. He created our personalities in this manner with a very specific purpose, just like He did with each of you. But just like how man took a good thing and tainted it in the garden of Eden, we've done the same thing with our independence and strong personalities. And rather than use them, we've tried to own them. There is a thin line between knowing you are capable and feeling as if nobody else is capable other than you. And when we start to lose control, we try to control in stronger, larger ways and it turns into us saying to God "no thanks, don't need You. You made me this way. I got this." But getting back to basics........if our goal as Christians in this life and the next is sanctification, how will we ever get there on our own? We can't. It is literally impossible. It occurred to me today that sanctification begins where pride ends. I'm not able, at all, on my own. That is what humility looks like for me. Rediscovering the goal, and realizing that I can't reach it without the One that created it.
Order the book, people. 31 pages.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Hosanna
I've been sitting on this for a while. I had no idea how to unpack what was in my head and certainly didn't know if the timing was what God wanted. In my head, I've written this approximately fiftyleven times in the last couple of months. And none of them was right. None of them seemed to fit. It was just this week that God wrote this story for me (and still I won't do it justice with my words). And I'm so glad that I waited. Because He didn't just change my words, He changed my mind.
Several weeks ago, I was out to a girls dinner with 3 girls. 2 of them I know in an acquaintance kind of way and the 3rd I'm super close with. After hours of talking about everything under the sun, I was left alone at the table with one of the acquaintances. First of all, I give props to this girl. She did this respectfully (in waiting for the other two to leave) and second of all, she asked, but didn't pry. So they left the table and she just asked. Flat out. "I hear people say all the time that they love their adopted children the same way they love their biological children. Is it really the same?" And I told her, "no. It's not the same. Loving him is something that I work very hard to do." And before I had a chance to elaborate, the other girls returned, and this wonderful woman dropped the subject and we never revisited it. But it won't go away. It's there in my mind all the time. And I know that I meant what I said. I know that, FOR US (every family is different), this is true. So if I'm so confident in my answer, why has God been holding this conversation hostage in my heart for weeks?
And this week, He let me know why. Because He wanted to not just change my answer. He wanted to change my heart. This week I learned that love is not a feeling.
Love is a commitment.
Love says......
I will be here when everybody else leaves.
I will NOT enable you, I WILL teach you that you can do hard things.
I will back off, but I will NOT leave, when you need space.
I will forgive you when you can't forgive yourself.
I will pray, when you don't know how.
I will reach my hand out to you, and wait patiently as you decide whether or not to take it.
I will offer guidance, and accept when you deny it.
I will lead you to water.......and accept that I cannot make you drink.
I will always do what's best for you.....even if it doesn't benefit me.
I will show you right from wrong......
I will show you what it means to be humble and what it looks like to serve.....
If someone asked me again today, is it the same? I would say yes. Yes I am committed to my husband and all of my children in the same way. I will not give up. I will not walk away. Does it FEEL the same? No. But love is not a feeling. All of us have commitments. Running a few miles a day. Taking up a new hobby (ever seen a man with a new set of golf clubs on the driving range - commitment, people). Running a business. Marriage. Kids. Volunteering. Making a commitment means that you refuse to lose. That's what love is. It refuses to be defeated. And that sounds so magical right? In your head you're considering all of the hypothetical ways that "love" can be defeated. All of the ways that, in this world, you've seen it fall apart. And that's where I've been wrong. Love was not defined for us in this world.
Today is Palm Sunday. I think about the way Jesus must have felt as they called out for Him "Hosanna!!!!! Hosanna in the highest!" Hosanna means "save me". The people were literally crying to Him and begging to be saved. And He knew of His fate. He knew that the only way to satisfy the wrath of God was to die on that cross. But even with the desperate cries of the people, do you think He wasn't afraid? He wasn't riding that donkey like it was his steed and he was a knight in shining armor. Do you think He wasn't wondering why THIS was God's plan for His life? But He was committed. He LOVES us. If love was a feeling, He would have refused. If love was a feeling, He would have pointed out that He was not being treated reciprocally. If He was going to die, then what were we going to do for Him? If love was a feeling, we would all be going to hell. But it's not. It's a commitment. And it was displayed for us, right there on the cross. And even after He died (because of us) and rose, as He ascended into heaven He said "and be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Matthew 28:20. AFTER we nailed him to a cross, He STILL won't leave us. THAT is commitment. That is love.
What a perfect example we've all been given on how to love. And what an even more perfect display we've been shown of how when we feel unlovable, someone (God) is committed to us. Nobody can sin enough to negate His love. It is a commitment. Unfailing. Permanent.
Several weeks ago, I was out to a girls dinner with 3 girls. 2 of them I know in an acquaintance kind of way and the 3rd I'm super close with. After hours of talking about everything under the sun, I was left alone at the table with one of the acquaintances. First of all, I give props to this girl. She did this respectfully (in waiting for the other two to leave) and second of all, she asked, but didn't pry. So they left the table and she just asked. Flat out. "I hear people say all the time that they love their adopted children the same way they love their biological children. Is it really the same?" And I told her, "no. It's not the same. Loving him is something that I work very hard to do." And before I had a chance to elaborate, the other girls returned, and this wonderful woman dropped the subject and we never revisited it. But it won't go away. It's there in my mind all the time. And I know that I meant what I said. I know that, FOR US (every family is different), this is true. So if I'm so confident in my answer, why has God been holding this conversation hostage in my heart for weeks?
And this week, He let me know why. Because He wanted to not just change my answer. He wanted to change my heart. This week I learned that love is not a feeling.
Love is a commitment.
Love says......
I will be here when everybody else leaves.
I will NOT enable you, I WILL teach you that you can do hard things.
I will back off, but I will NOT leave, when you need space.
I will forgive you when you can't forgive yourself.
I will pray, when you don't know how.
I will reach my hand out to you, and wait patiently as you decide whether or not to take it.
I will offer guidance, and accept when you deny it.
I will lead you to water.......and accept that I cannot make you drink.
I will always do what's best for you.....even if it doesn't benefit me.
I will show you right from wrong......
I will show you what it means to be humble and what it looks like to serve.....
If someone asked me again today, is it the same? I would say yes. Yes I am committed to my husband and all of my children in the same way. I will not give up. I will not walk away. Does it FEEL the same? No. But love is not a feeling. All of us have commitments. Running a few miles a day. Taking up a new hobby (ever seen a man with a new set of golf clubs on the driving range - commitment, people). Running a business. Marriage. Kids. Volunteering. Making a commitment means that you refuse to lose. That's what love is. It refuses to be defeated. And that sounds so magical right? In your head you're considering all of the hypothetical ways that "love" can be defeated. All of the ways that, in this world, you've seen it fall apart. And that's where I've been wrong. Love was not defined for us in this world.
Today is Palm Sunday. I think about the way Jesus must have felt as they called out for Him "Hosanna!!!!! Hosanna in the highest!" Hosanna means "save me". The people were literally crying to Him and begging to be saved. And He knew of His fate. He knew that the only way to satisfy the wrath of God was to die on that cross. But even with the desperate cries of the people, do you think He wasn't afraid? He wasn't riding that donkey like it was his steed and he was a knight in shining armor. Do you think He wasn't wondering why THIS was God's plan for His life? But He was committed. He LOVES us. If love was a feeling, He would have refused. If love was a feeling, He would have pointed out that He was not being treated reciprocally. If He was going to die, then what were we going to do for Him? If love was a feeling, we would all be going to hell. But it's not. It's a commitment. And it was displayed for us, right there on the cross. And even after He died (because of us) and rose, as He ascended into heaven He said "and be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Matthew 28:20. AFTER we nailed him to a cross, He STILL won't leave us. THAT is commitment. That is love.
What a perfect example we've all been given on how to love. And what an even more perfect display we've been shown of how when we feel unlovable, someone (God) is committed to us. Nobody can sin enough to negate His love. It is a commitment. Unfailing. Permanent.
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Victory for the People
Cole (n.) - Victory for the People
9 years ago, at this very hour, I was in labor with you, my first born. It was all so peaceful. There was no frenzy. We were all calm and collected. It was very much the opposite of what we anticipated it being. You arrived quickly. Daddy called Grandma to tell her you were on your way at about 6pm and she said "maybe by tomorrow morning". 6 hours later, you were in our arms. Screaming. Both validating us as parents and making us question our newest calling. You were long and skinny and that black hair, it was wild. Only now can I look at you and know how perfectly it fit you. It was always a perfectly arranged mess. I couldn't make it lay down, but every strand fell in line. A curl every here and there. Random cowlicks to keep the game interesting. It was so very perfectly, Cole. As you grew and your personality developed everyone around you was enthralled. We had an email blast among family called "Cole-isms" that went out every few days. You're quick witted. And hilarious. And way too smart. You know how to work a crowd. It terrifies me. At your third birthday party we asked you to pray before pizza. You tucked your 2nd and 3rd little chins down to your chest and reached your little sausage fingers out to hold your cousins' hand and you prayed, "giggle giggle, snort snort, giggle.....God is great, beer is good and people are crazy. Amen." Granny almost died. Not in comical way. And you enjoyed, for the first time, a captivated audience.
You love to laugh. And you love to think. And you love to have space to think. When you were in daycare you spent MANY days in the office of the director and one day she said "I think he just likes to sit in here and read where it's quiet". You are absolutely my son. And I love you. I love your passion. You've always had this deep, pensive furrowed brow thing happening. It's focus. You're taking it all in. You're figuring out how things work. Daddy always says he can see the hamster running. Don't ever stop doing that. Don't ever stop wanting to know how things work and how to fix them. Don't ever stop thinking and wondering and dreaming and reading and learning. When you were 6 we had to take all of the books out of your bedroom because instead of sleeping at night you would read. For hours. In the dark. With a nighlight. You would sneak into the bathroom and read in there at night for better light. And if you weren't reading, you were organizing your stuffed animals. Or bathing them in handsoap and writing their names on the wall of your bedroom in suds. And even though poor monkey died a painful, sudsy death, don't stop. Don't ever stop creating. Don't ever stop being resourceful, innovative, and original. There will always be someone telling you to stop. Don't.
You are kind and compassionate. Don't ever lose that. The time you got a balloon at the store and we passed a little boy in our neighborhood and you made me go back so you could give your balloon to him, the summer you wrote me a love note almost every day as you watched me struggle with your siblings, the way you prayed for David before his name was David, because you know there are children hurting in the world, the way you lay with Brandy at night and lay hands on her, the way you always, always, always apologize for disrespect, bad attitudes or misbehavior without ever being expected to. Don't ever ever stop being these things.
I love the way you love God. He used you, you know. When you were born, we knew that we wanted to be better for you. You gave us a reason to go back to church. We wouldn't have done it on our own. God used you then and He is using you still. All of the nights when you say "we haven't done Bible study yet". God is using you. It takes character and boldness to speak up. And you have those. Don't ever lose them. I love the way that you are working, so hard, on being a good brother. Cole, I am so proud of you. Zella works your nerves hard some days. And you care for her so beautifully. And this last 16 months has been hard on you. You have lived through a lot of emotions and experiences that many adults couldn't handle. And you've done it. And every morning, on the way to school, when you pray for David to have a good day, even though it's hard for you to do, God sees that. He sees that you're praying for him in spite of your relationship with him. And I AM SO PROUD OF YOU.
This birthday thing is really hard for mom. It's hard to watch you grow up. It's hard and it's amazing. Parenting you isn't always easy. But so many days we get to see the awesome stuff. We get to see that you have been paying attention. We get to see that God is working in your life. We get to see a small glimpse of the incredible man you will be when you're an adult. And we are so blessed by you. We were smitten the first time we saw you. And still smitten two hours later when you hadn't stopped crying since your grand entrance. And still, when you hold my hand, when you curl up on the sofa under my arm, when you kiss me on the forehead, I'm still completely in love. And I hold onto every hand hold, every snuggle, every kiss. I know the days are numbered.
Thinking of you now, as a 9 year old, is completely surreal to me. You're my baby. My work buddy. My sidekick. You are also my inspiration. You are a catalyst. You are magnetic. You're my hand holder. My gentle soul. My scientist. My mathematician. My rule regulator. My time keeper. My number cruncher. My food network, Michael Jackson, praise and worship, Green Bay Packer, How it's Made, Lego, never ever wear jeans cause they're too stiff, love a pair of sweat pants, paper airplane, sketchpad and colored pencils precious boy. You're all of these things, and so many more, and still, my baby. My screaming, wild haired, first born. And you always will be. You will never outgrow my love for you.
When we named you (and trust me, it was a LONG process), we had no idea what your name meant. It wasn't until a while after you were born that we learned your name means "victory for the people". And it's so true. You are our victory. And you will be for so many people in the years to come. God has plans to use you that far exceed any plans of greatness you may have (you know, in case the NFL doesn't work out) and we are so blessed to get to watch them unfold.
Happy Birthday, sweet baby boy. You are loved more than you can ever know.
9 years ago, at this very hour, I was in labor with you, my first born. It was all so peaceful. There was no frenzy. We were all calm and collected. It was very much the opposite of what we anticipated it being. You arrived quickly. Daddy called Grandma to tell her you were on your way at about 6pm and she said "maybe by tomorrow morning". 6 hours later, you were in our arms. Screaming. Both validating us as parents and making us question our newest calling. You were long and skinny and that black hair, it was wild. Only now can I look at you and know how perfectly it fit you. It was always a perfectly arranged mess. I couldn't make it lay down, but every strand fell in line. A curl every here and there. Random cowlicks to keep the game interesting. It was so very perfectly, Cole. As you grew and your personality developed everyone around you was enthralled. We had an email blast among family called "Cole-isms" that went out every few days. You're quick witted. And hilarious. And way too smart. You know how to work a crowd. It terrifies me. At your third birthday party we asked you to pray before pizza. You tucked your 2nd and 3rd little chins down to your chest and reached your little sausage fingers out to hold your cousins' hand and you prayed, "giggle giggle, snort snort, giggle.....God is great, beer is good and people are crazy. Amen." Granny almost died. Not in comical way. And you enjoyed, for the first time, a captivated audience.
You love to laugh. And you love to think. And you love to have space to think. When you were in daycare you spent MANY days in the office of the director and one day she said "I think he just likes to sit in here and read where it's quiet". You are absolutely my son. And I love you. I love your passion. You've always had this deep, pensive furrowed brow thing happening. It's focus. You're taking it all in. You're figuring out how things work. Daddy always says he can see the hamster running. Don't ever stop doing that. Don't ever stop wanting to know how things work and how to fix them. Don't ever stop thinking and wondering and dreaming and reading and learning. When you were 6 we had to take all of the books out of your bedroom because instead of sleeping at night you would read. For hours. In the dark. With a nighlight. You would sneak into the bathroom and read in there at night for better light. And if you weren't reading, you were organizing your stuffed animals. Or bathing them in handsoap and writing their names on the wall of your bedroom in suds. And even though poor monkey died a painful, sudsy death, don't stop. Don't ever stop creating. Don't ever stop being resourceful, innovative, and original. There will always be someone telling you to stop. Don't.
You are kind and compassionate. Don't ever lose that. The time you got a balloon at the store and we passed a little boy in our neighborhood and you made me go back so you could give your balloon to him, the summer you wrote me a love note almost every day as you watched me struggle with your siblings, the way you prayed for David before his name was David, because you know there are children hurting in the world, the way you lay with Brandy at night and lay hands on her, the way you always, always, always apologize for disrespect, bad attitudes or misbehavior without ever being expected to. Don't ever ever stop being these things.
I love the way you love God. He used you, you know. When you were born, we knew that we wanted to be better for you. You gave us a reason to go back to church. We wouldn't have done it on our own. God used you then and He is using you still. All of the nights when you say "we haven't done Bible study yet". God is using you. It takes character and boldness to speak up. And you have those. Don't ever lose them. I love the way that you are working, so hard, on being a good brother. Cole, I am so proud of you. Zella works your nerves hard some days. And you care for her so beautifully. And this last 16 months has been hard on you. You have lived through a lot of emotions and experiences that many adults couldn't handle. And you've done it. And every morning, on the way to school, when you pray for David to have a good day, even though it's hard for you to do, God sees that. He sees that you're praying for him in spite of your relationship with him. And I AM SO PROUD OF YOU.
This birthday thing is really hard for mom. It's hard to watch you grow up. It's hard and it's amazing. Parenting you isn't always easy. But so many days we get to see the awesome stuff. We get to see that you have been paying attention. We get to see that God is working in your life. We get to see a small glimpse of the incredible man you will be when you're an adult. And we are so blessed by you. We were smitten the first time we saw you. And still smitten two hours later when you hadn't stopped crying since your grand entrance. And still, when you hold my hand, when you curl up on the sofa under my arm, when you kiss me on the forehead, I'm still completely in love. And I hold onto every hand hold, every snuggle, every kiss. I know the days are numbered.
Thinking of you now, as a 9 year old, is completely surreal to me. You're my baby. My work buddy. My sidekick. You are also my inspiration. You are a catalyst. You are magnetic. You're my hand holder. My gentle soul. My scientist. My mathematician. My rule regulator. My time keeper. My number cruncher. My food network, Michael Jackson, praise and worship, Green Bay Packer, How it's Made, Lego, never ever wear jeans cause they're too stiff, love a pair of sweat pants, paper airplane, sketchpad and colored pencils precious boy. You're all of these things, and so many more, and still, my baby. My screaming, wild haired, first born. And you always will be. You will never outgrow my love for you.
When we named you (and trust me, it was a LONG process), we had no idea what your name meant. It wasn't until a while after you were born that we learned your name means "victory for the people". And it's so true. You are our victory. And you will be for so many people in the years to come. God has plans to use you that far exceed any plans of greatness you may have (you know, in case the NFL doesn't work out) and we are so blessed to get to watch them unfold.
Happy Birthday, sweet baby boy. You are loved more than you can ever know.
Monday, January 12, 2015
About Jeremiah
***NOTE: this is all opinion and what has been placed on my heart. I will NOT debate this topic.***
I've been working on/pondering/mulling over the right words for what has been on my heart now for a couple of weeks. It isn't an easy topic. Especially since I'm a guilty party. But I know that it's been put here on my heart for a purpose, and that if God didn't want me to process it, He would stop planting it in my head. All day. Every day. I decided this morning, after praying and asking God if He was for sure about me feeling and writing this, while Curious George is teaching Zella about recycling, the boys are learning at school and my coffee is still hot, that today is the day. It's time to talk about Jeremiah. Not the man. Not the book of the Bible. But that verse. That one verse that seems to be everywhere.
"For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future'." Jeremiah 29:11
It's funny how when God walks us through hard stuff we grumble, yet without us realizing it, we are moving closer to God. My whole Christian life (which is certainly apart from my whole 31 years) I have known that God's goal for us was to further His kingdom. But I never ever considered what our goals, as Christians should be for ourselves. Until a few weeks ago. Our church did a 3 part series on these big words that don't often get presented in church: propitiation, justification, sanctification. Propitiation is the satisfaction of God's wrath. In dying on the cross, Jesus "satisfied" or fulfilled the wrath of God. Justification is the miracle through which God declares the sinner righteous through Him. And sanctification is the life long process of becoming more Christ like. The sermon on propitiation restored my faith in the gospel being delivered correctly. How many preachers are talking about the wrath of God in the feel good, American church? Not that many. But it's real. We cannot acknowledge the power and might and holiness of the God we serve without also acknowledging that our sin, which is a slap in the face to His holiness and power and might, produces wrath. He is graceful. He is patient. He does love us. He has also written guidelines and instructions for us to live by. Direct disobedience, much like between parents and children here on earth, breeds consequence. That's NOT what Christians today want to hear. BUT it's true! Then on the day that sanctification was broken down, the pastor said "we are working, our whole lives, to be worthy to sit in the presence of the Lord". I felt like a light bulb went off while simultaneously producing shame inside of me. I've been living with the goal of getting to heaven, for the personal gain of sitting at His feet, while all the while, I should be working toward the HONOR of being allowed to sit at His feet. That should be my goal as a Christian. A life full of this sanctification process (that includes the hard stuff that burns off the nasty stuff) in order to create in me a heart worthy of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. How selfish I have been to want heaven, because it's just better than earth. So after I got that, I started trying to figure out how I got to that point. How did I ever imagine that the goal wasn't sanctification? What was it that made me reject the hard stuff in the name of it just being hard, instead of embracing it and thanking God that He was using this "stuff" to draw me closer to Him? And here's what I discovered......
I took the feel good bait. I fed into the idea that God only has "good" plans for me and that my human, American, worldly mind was able to define "good". And I failed to remember that my mind cannot even begin to fathom the depth, breadth, width, height, span of God, so how can I possibly define what "good" and "prosper" and "not harm" mean? Am I able to see from one end of creation to the next? How do I have any idea what is "good" for me or what will prosper me? I don't. Because I'm not God.
And here's where my problem lies. Why is the American church promoting God in a manner that defines Him when clearly our minds aren't capable of doing such a thing? I know so many new Christians that are walking through hard hard things and as soon as "hard" hits they shake their fists at God and at the pastors that led them to the altar under the ruse that God was "good" and that His "good" was defined in the same manner that sinners define "good". How are we standing in church with hands raised and "heart abandoned" but we are still refusing to acknowledge that if we were Kingdom minded, we would recognize that the good plans God has for us, His way of prospering us, His way of not harming us, is not referring to our life here on earth, but it's referencing our eternal life? HIS plan for good for us is purifying us to spend eternity with Him. His plan for not harming us is to get us to eternity where harm can no longer be done to us. His plan to prosper us to put is into the highest place we could ever reach, next to Him.
I have said to people as they struggle "but you know God says He has plans to prosper you and not harm you". I need to stop saying that. Because what it does is it diminishes what God is doing in their lives and makes Christians feel like something is wrong when they are truly just walking through the process of sanctification. Life gets hard. Does that mean it's "bad"? Not always. As sinners, we are historically awesome at screwing up God's plans. But what about the people that ARE walking in His will and ARE walking in obedience and faithful to Him? ONLY God knows a man's heart and the things that need to change in it. ONLY God knows the plans that He has for the faithful. We can't extract one verse from the Bible and feed it to people to sell a God that people don't want to follow when the time for sanctification comes. And it does come. When people say to God, "start a fire down in my soul, God!", He will. When you say "break my heart for what breaks Yours, God!", He'll do it. And how many people will bow out after He does because they can't see the goal is not "good" here on earth, but good for eternity? A lot. I almost did. I have shaken my fist at God. I have argued with Him and distanced myself.......and then crawled back humbly and begging for mercy. Because GOD IS GOOD. But He is so holy, that our definition of "good" can't come close to defining Him.
If you're walking through something really hard right now, and you're walking in obedience, consider what it is that God wants to burn off of you. Consider what your eternal goals are. Consider how God could be sanctifying you to make you worthy of His presence. Because He IS working in you. It might hurt. It might not feel good. We are not immune to tragedy. Any of us. Life is hard and sad and gut wrenching and confusing. But our emotions. Our reactions. Our everyday childishness. None of those things change that HE IS HOLY and He desires for us to one day be with Him. But we have to be pure enough to enter into His presence to ever be able to understand what His good and prosperous plans look like.
A God that requires nothing of us does not exist. He offers us eternal life. And peace. And hope and joy. He is our Protector and our Ruler. Our Father. Our creator. He is all of the things that people that are lost and lonely and desperate need and want and are searching for. He's the light in the darkness. But He requires all of us if we ever want to have all of Him. And all of us, means everything changes, or nothing will ever change. Ouch.
I've been working on/pondering/mulling over the right words for what has been on my heart now for a couple of weeks. It isn't an easy topic. Especially since I'm a guilty party. But I know that it's been put here on my heart for a purpose, and that if God didn't want me to process it, He would stop planting it in my head. All day. Every day. I decided this morning, after praying and asking God if He was for sure about me feeling and writing this, while Curious George is teaching Zella about recycling, the boys are learning at school and my coffee is still hot, that today is the day. It's time to talk about Jeremiah. Not the man. Not the book of the Bible. But that verse. That one verse that seems to be everywhere.
"For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future'." Jeremiah 29:11
It's funny how when God walks us through hard stuff we grumble, yet without us realizing it, we are moving closer to God. My whole Christian life (which is certainly apart from my whole 31 years) I have known that God's goal for us was to further His kingdom. But I never ever considered what our goals, as Christians should be for ourselves. Until a few weeks ago. Our church did a 3 part series on these big words that don't often get presented in church: propitiation, justification, sanctification. Propitiation is the satisfaction of God's wrath. In dying on the cross, Jesus "satisfied" or fulfilled the wrath of God. Justification is the miracle through which God declares the sinner righteous through Him. And sanctification is the life long process of becoming more Christ like. The sermon on propitiation restored my faith in the gospel being delivered correctly. How many preachers are talking about the wrath of God in the feel good, American church? Not that many. But it's real. We cannot acknowledge the power and might and holiness of the God we serve without also acknowledging that our sin, which is a slap in the face to His holiness and power and might, produces wrath. He is graceful. He is patient. He does love us. He has also written guidelines and instructions for us to live by. Direct disobedience, much like between parents and children here on earth, breeds consequence. That's NOT what Christians today want to hear. BUT it's true! Then on the day that sanctification was broken down, the pastor said "we are working, our whole lives, to be worthy to sit in the presence of the Lord". I felt like a light bulb went off while simultaneously producing shame inside of me. I've been living with the goal of getting to heaven, for the personal gain of sitting at His feet, while all the while, I should be working toward the HONOR of being allowed to sit at His feet. That should be my goal as a Christian. A life full of this sanctification process (that includes the hard stuff that burns off the nasty stuff) in order to create in me a heart worthy of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. How selfish I have been to want heaven, because it's just better than earth. So after I got that, I started trying to figure out how I got to that point. How did I ever imagine that the goal wasn't sanctification? What was it that made me reject the hard stuff in the name of it just being hard, instead of embracing it and thanking God that He was using this "stuff" to draw me closer to Him? And here's what I discovered......
I took the feel good bait. I fed into the idea that God only has "good" plans for me and that my human, American, worldly mind was able to define "good". And I failed to remember that my mind cannot even begin to fathom the depth, breadth, width, height, span of God, so how can I possibly define what "good" and "prosper" and "not harm" mean? Am I able to see from one end of creation to the next? How do I have any idea what is "good" for me or what will prosper me? I don't. Because I'm not God.
And here's where my problem lies. Why is the American church promoting God in a manner that defines Him when clearly our minds aren't capable of doing such a thing? I know so many new Christians that are walking through hard hard things and as soon as "hard" hits they shake their fists at God and at the pastors that led them to the altar under the ruse that God was "good" and that His "good" was defined in the same manner that sinners define "good". How are we standing in church with hands raised and "heart abandoned" but we are still refusing to acknowledge that if we were Kingdom minded, we would recognize that the good plans God has for us, His way of prospering us, His way of not harming us, is not referring to our life here on earth, but it's referencing our eternal life? HIS plan for good for us is purifying us to spend eternity with Him. His plan for not harming us is to get us to eternity where harm can no longer be done to us. His plan to prosper us to put is into the highest place we could ever reach, next to Him.
I have said to people as they struggle "but you know God says He has plans to prosper you and not harm you". I need to stop saying that. Because what it does is it diminishes what God is doing in their lives and makes Christians feel like something is wrong when they are truly just walking through the process of sanctification. Life gets hard. Does that mean it's "bad"? Not always. As sinners, we are historically awesome at screwing up God's plans. But what about the people that ARE walking in His will and ARE walking in obedience and faithful to Him? ONLY God knows a man's heart and the things that need to change in it. ONLY God knows the plans that He has for the faithful. We can't extract one verse from the Bible and feed it to people to sell a God that people don't want to follow when the time for sanctification comes. And it does come. When people say to God, "start a fire down in my soul, God!", He will. When you say "break my heart for what breaks Yours, God!", He'll do it. And how many people will bow out after He does because they can't see the goal is not "good" here on earth, but good for eternity? A lot. I almost did. I have shaken my fist at God. I have argued with Him and distanced myself.......and then crawled back humbly and begging for mercy. Because GOD IS GOOD. But He is so holy, that our definition of "good" can't come close to defining Him.
If you're walking through something really hard right now, and you're walking in obedience, consider what it is that God wants to burn off of you. Consider what your eternal goals are. Consider how God could be sanctifying you to make you worthy of His presence. Because He IS working in you. It might hurt. It might not feel good. We are not immune to tragedy. Any of us. Life is hard and sad and gut wrenching and confusing. But our emotions. Our reactions. Our everyday childishness. None of those things change that HE IS HOLY and He desires for us to one day be with Him. But we have to be pure enough to enter into His presence to ever be able to understand what His good and prosperous plans look like.
A God that requires nothing of us does not exist. He offers us eternal life. And peace. And hope and joy. He is our Protector and our Ruler. Our Father. Our creator. He is all of the things that people that are lost and lonely and desperate need and want and are searching for. He's the light in the darkness. But He requires all of us if we ever want to have all of Him. And all of us, means everything changes, or nothing will ever change. Ouch.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Emmanuel
My poor husband has to listen to a lot. His poor ears. Part of me thinks that he's excited for the day that he needs hearing aids so he can just turn me off. He's a real trooper. And I am a habitual over-communicator. It's how I process and how I deal. I can't work through stuff inside of my head space sometimes. It's just not big enough in there. But during the times when Jake isn't here, or when he's already listened to A LOT, I write. If there was such as a thing as "eye aids", some of you may choose to turn me off. Jake is at work this morning. The kids are fed and up to no good. And I need to process.
We talk to our kids a lot about choices. About how circumstances in their lives are a result of choices they've made. We can't choose things like the family we've been given or our eye color. We can't choose our personalities and we can't choose the details that God intricately designed us with. But God, when He so perfectly created us, designed us with free will. We choose everything from the way we react to someone to what we eat or don't eat all the way down to where we will spend eternity. God has provided all of the benefits of good choices for us. But we have to choose to take what is being held out to us. Our life choices are no different than that. We say so many times a week in this house "you can't control what they do, you can only control the way you react to it. Don't let their sin, make you sin." And most days, that's a tough pill for kids to swallow. For us adults, it's like the impossible pill to swallow. We react every day. Keeping ourselves in check with our reactions and actions is a full time job. Self control is a full time job. Choices are hard. And sometimes in life, we WILL make the wrong choice. What's beautiful is that God is full of grace and mercy. He will not change. If we stray from His will, and if we return, He has not changed. He's the same yesterday, today and forever. He is the only true "home". Because "home" here on earth changes. And family changes. And sometimes, that's a direct result of our choices, or other people's choices. But for each choice, there is always a result. Always.
I was 5 when my mom and stepdad started dating, 8 when they got married, and 19 when they got divorced. He's now referred to as my "dad" because "step" is just silly. He's my dad. He was there. And so was his family. They took us all in just like he did. Without hesitation. And I lived an awesome awesome childhood because of this addition of a new family (and it's a big one and I LOVED that). Holidays were always fully full. One of my absolute favorite Thanksgiving memories is trekking into NYC from my grandparents house in NJ to watch the Macy's parade. It was freezing. Legitimately freezing. And you had to get there before dawn to get a good spot. But we had our thermos and our thermals and each other. Cousins and aunts and uncles....all huddled up to see a parade and make memories that I will never forget. Most gatherings, there were so many people we couldn't move around in the house. I miss that. So much. The chaos. The drama. The warmth. As each year passed, more kids got added. Kids got older and people moved and the location of the holiday celebrations moved as well. And it didn't change. When my grandparents retired to SC, my grandma would invite random people over for holiday meals.....1 because she hated the idea of anyone being alone and 2 because the house felt empty with less than 20 people. The Scrabble board and the wine came out. The men watched whatever sport was on during that season. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, random get togethers......they were always the same. They supported us as if the same blood ran through our veins. Sporting events and proms and graduation and sleepovers and cooking lessons and crossword puzzles and school projects. The whole deal! And then change started happening. I moved away to school and my parents chose divorce. I don't condemn them for it. It was THEIR choice. And at 19, I was old enough to be responsible and make my own choice. I chose poorly.
It was a less than amicable divorce. And I took sides. And these people that had given me an amazing childhood full of love and experience and family got hurt. My dad and I were estranged for over 2 years. A lot happens in two years. He got remarried. I gave birth to a son. And bonds were broken. We made amends the summer that I found out I was pregnant with Zella. I remember the night after we saw each other for the first time after so long and I got in the car and just cried. Yes, I was pregnant, but I was relieved and hurt. Hurt that I let myself miss 2 years of this closeness. That Christmas, the rest of the family followed. We all met after probably 4 years for dinner and there were tears and it was awesome. The kids that had been littles were almost women. And this family took us in, again. Except for my grandparents. They deserved more. They deserved an apology. Before I was able to do that, my grandma passed away unexpectedly. I walked into the funeral feeling like I shouldn't be there. Because she went to her grave never knowing how truly sorry I was, and how much I loved her and appreciated her. It got better. And family gatherings happened more often and lines of communication opened and while things will never be the same, they were still good. We've separated ourselves a lot in the last year or so. It's kind of what happens sometimes in adoption and it's necessary. But even in being necessary, it's still painful and lonely. We have missed family gatherings and I've missed the closeness and even though they've stayed the same, it feels different.
This morning, after a long and courageous battle with cancer, my grandpa passed away. He's with grandma now. He's not in any more pain. He and I had made our peace. But I never said it. I never said sorry. I never said thank you. That was my choice. One that I will have to deal with.
If I could explain this to my kids today in a way that wouldn't terrify them, I would say, "In a moment, our choices may seem right. It might feel like we are doing what's best. If you're basing your choice on how you feel, it's probably wrong. Feelings can be prideful. They can be misleading. They can be a result of outside sources. Think about it. Pray about it. Then choose."
We are so imperfect. We do make bad choices. We hurt people. We create distance where distance doesn't belong. We carry our pride with us in these giant bags and force that baggage on the people close to us. WE are the ones that change. And then we accuse everyone else of changing.
Last night our family devotional was about the hurt that people feel at Christmas. That there isn't always joy for everyone this time of year. The expectation of the Christmas season is peace and joy and cheer and happiness. And if we try to find those things in the "things" of the season, the expectation is very often shattered. And we find ourselves frustrated and even more upset that a "time of year" couldn't even make us happy. But if we focus on the true meaning of Christmas, that we can have peace all year. Emmanuel. God with us. We were given a gift that would afford us the opportunity to make a choice that would give us a forever "home" and a forever "family" and an eternal Father. One that won't change. One that won't remind us of our regret. One that will allow us to enter into His kingdom forever and ever. It's our choice.
So today, while I mourn at home for a great man and for my dad who is mourning with his family, I find great hope in this sign on my wall. Emmanuel. He is with us. No regret or pain can change this gift. Nothing can take it away or estrange it. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. No matter how close or how far we choose to be.
This season, whatever this season may mean for you, I hope you find the same hope in this gift. Whatever your hurt, whatever your regret or distance from God, this gift is for you.
"But the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today, in the town of David, a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah. The Lord.'" Luke 2:10-11
We talk to our kids a lot about choices. About how circumstances in their lives are a result of choices they've made. We can't choose things like the family we've been given or our eye color. We can't choose our personalities and we can't choose the details that God intricately designed us with. But God, when He so perfectly created us, designed us with free will. We choose everything from the way we react to someone to what we eat or don't eat all the way down to where we will spend eternity. God has provided all of the benefits of good choices for us. But we have to choose to take what is being held out to us. Our life choices are no different than that. We say so many times a week in this house "you can't control what they do, you can only control the way you react to it. Don't let their sin, make you sin." And most days, that's a tough pill for kids to swallow. For us adults, it's like the impossible pill to swallow. We react every day. Keeping ourselves in check with our reactions and actions is a full time job. Self control is a full time job. Choices are hard. And sometimes in life, we WILL make the wrong choice. What's beautiful is that God is full of grace and mercy. He will not change. If we stray from His will, and if we return, He has not changed. He's the same yesterday, today and forever. He is the only true "home". Because "home" here on earth changes. And family changes. And sometimes, that's a direct result of our choices, or other people's choices. But for each choice, there is always a result. Always.
I was 5 when my mom and stepdad started dating, 8 when they got married, and 19 when they got divorced. He's now referred to as my "dad" because "step" is just silly. He's my dad. He was there. And so was his family. They took us all in just like he did. Without hesitation. And I lived an awesome awesome childhood because of this addition of a new family (and it's a big one and I LOVED that). Holidays were always fully full. One of my absolute favorite Thanksgiving memories is trekking into NYC from my grandparents house in NJ to watch the Macy's parade. It was freezing. Legitimately freezing. And you had to get there before dawn to get a good spot. But we had our thermos and our thermals and each other. Cousins and aunts and uncles....all huddled up to see a parade and make memories that I will never forget. Most gatherings, there were so many people we couldn't move around in the house. I miss that. So much. The chaos. The drama. The warmth. As each year passed, more kids got added. Kids got older and people moved and the location of the holiday celebrations moved as well. And it didn't change. When my grandparents retired to SC, my grandma would invite random people over for holiday meals.....1 because she hated the idea of anyone being alone and 2 because the house felt empty with less than 20 people. The Scrabble board and the wine came out. The men watched whatever sport was on during that season. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, random get togethers......they were always the same. They supported us as if the same blood ran through our veins. Sporting events and proms and graduation and sleepovers and cooking lessons and crossword puzzles and school projects. The whole deal! And then change started happening. I moved away to school and my parents chose divorce. I don't condemn them for it. It was THEIR choice. And at 19, I was old enough to be responsible and make my own choice. I chose poorly.
It was a less than amicable divorce. And I took sides. And these people that had given me an amazing childhood full of love and experience and family got hurt. My dad and I were estranged for over 2 years. A lot happens in two years. He got remarried. I gave birth to a son. And bonds were broken. We made amends the summer that I found out I was pregnant with Zella. I remember the night after we saw each other for the first time after so long and I got in the car and just cried. Yes, I was pregnant, but I was relieved and hurt. Hurt that I let myself miss 2 years of this closeness. That Christmas, the rest of the family followed. We all met after probably 4 years for dinner and there were tears and it was awesome. The kids that had been littles were almost women. And this family took us in, again. Except for my grandparents. They deserved more. They deserved an apology. Before I was able to do that, my grandma passed away unexpectedly. I walked into the funeral feeling like I shouldn't be there. Because she went to her grave never knowing how truly sorry I was, and how much I loved her and appreciated her. It got better. And family gatherings happened more often and lines of communication opened and while things will never be the same, they were still good. We've separated ourselves a lot in the last year or so. It's kind of what happens sometimes in adoption and it's necessary. But even in being necessary, it's still painful and lonely. We have missed family gatherings and I've missed the closeness and even though they've stayed the same, it feels different.
This morning, after a long and courageous battle with cancer, my grandpa passed away. He's with grandma now. He's not in any more pain. He and I had made our peace. But I never said it. I never said sorry. I never said thank you. That was my choice. One that I will have to deal with.
If I could explain this to my kids today in a way that wouldn't terrify them, I would say, "In a moment, our choices may seem right. It might feel like we are doing what's best. If you're basing your choice on how you feel, it's probably wrong. Feelings can be prideful. They can be misleading. They can be a result of outside sources. Think about it. Pray about it. Then choose."
We are so imperfect. We do make bad choices. We hurt people. We create distance where distance doesn't belong. We carry our pride with us in these giant bags and force that baggage on the people close to us. WE are the ones that change. And then we accuse everyone else of changing.
Last night our family devotional was about the hurt that people feel at Christmas. That there isn't always joy for everyone this time of year. The expectation of the Christmas season is peace and joy and cheer and happiness. And if we try to find those things in the "things" of the season, the expectation is very often shattered. And we find ourselves frustrated and even more upset that a "time of year" couldn't even make us happy. But if we focus on the true meaning of Christmas, that we can have peace all year. Emmanuel. God with us. We were given a gift that would afford us the opportunity to make a choice that would give us a forever "home" and a forever "family" and an eternal Father. One that won't change. One that won't remind us of our regret. One that will allow us to enter into His kingdom forever and ever. It's our choice.
So today, while I mourn at home for a great man and for my dad who is mourning with his family, I find great hope in this sign on my wall. Emmanuel. He is with us. No regret or pain can change this gift. Nothing can take it away or estrange it. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. No matter how close or how far we choose to be.
This season, whatever this season may mean for you, I hope you find the same hope in this gift. Whatever your hurt, whatever your regret or distance from God, this gift is for you.
"But the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today, in the town of David, a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah. The Lord.'" Luke 2:10-11
Monday, November 17, 2014
Not Flesh of my Flesh......
"Not flesh of my flesh, or bone of my bone, but somehow, still miraculously my own. Never forget, for a single minute, you didn't grow under my heart, but in it."
It's National Adoption Month. I think there may have also been a National Adoption Day, but I'm blessed that I remembered today is Monday so special days outside of the norm don't register in this mama's memory. And even though this adoption road has been quite bumpy, adoption and foster care are things I do still feel passionate about......though my perspective has changed a bit.
When Jake and I first started this journey, I would read the above quote and sob at the idea of having a child that I could share those words with one day. A child that would embrace the idea of me as some ethereal woman robed in white with children bouncing on my knee with love pouring out of my veins and into the lives of all of the people around me. I was also delusional. First of all, I'm not ethereal. At all. Second, white makes me look like death. Third, no child, living a for real life, with for real people, will ever look at their mother with zero angst. So toss that romanticized version of "mothering" out the window, fast forward to actually having our child in his new forever home, and insert the ACTUAL reality. Adoptive/foster parents are NOT saints. They are NOT perfect. They do NOT have it all together. They do NOT want you to put them on a pedestal. They ARE sinners just like every other Tom, Dick and Harry. They ARE still people. And people, people are just the worst.
Really. We are. And adoptive/foster parents suck at life just like non-foster/adopt parents. The ONLY difference between the two is one said "yes". One said "yes". And "yes" for us looks like this:
Adoption/Fostering is:
- like putting yourself on the fast track to sanctification. If there is anything awful inside of you, children, especially children from really hard places, will bring those impurities to the service for God to burn off.
- not always about the child. Very very often, the child is the last redeemed soul......while the rest of the family finds themselves closer to God than EVER imagined before.
- a deliberate, intentional proclamation to gut it out. To CHOOSE DAILY from the beginning of the paperwork and forward to fight the fight and do the character building and LOVE regardless of the hard, ugly, terrible stuff that might happen.
- an unpredictable path with only one road map and one compass......THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE WITHOUT GOD.
- a beautiful love story
- a tragedy
- heartbreaking AND heartwarming
- a step of faith
- a whipping post
- a physical reminder of how God can and will heal......
Don't tell me I'm amazing. When I'm getting screamed at or spit on or breaking up another sibling fight, I don't feel amazing. When I'm hiding in the closet with my husband praying for a breakthrough for a child, I don't feel like what I'm doing is anything greater than anyone else. But then......when someone asks him "what does it mean to be adopted?" and he replies "it means mommy and daddy loves me".........there is beauty in the ashes. There is fruit. There is purpose in this pain. There is a reminder that anybody can say "yes"......because WE ARE NOT THE ONES THAT HEAL. We are not the saints. We are just the sinners. The vessels. The ones that prayed some crazy prayer one day and asked God to break our hearts. He broke our hearts. Our family. Our idea of family. We have had 5 days of good. 5 days straight. In the last 13 months, this is a record. The days have been long. We've analyzed and questioned and wondered and pondered. We've prayed and we've disciplined and explained and explained again and hugged it out and prayed prayed and then prayed. And some days, the efforts felt in vain. Some days, we labor without remembering that God is laboring with us. Some days I swear God throws His hands up and says "great! Thanks for making My job harder!". But we plug away. Day by day. And why? Because God.
Because God.
Someone asked me just last week "why Ukraine? Why not adopt from the US?" and I quickly replied, "because when we prayed, God said Ukraine". Is a Ukrainian childs soul not as valuable as an American childs soul? I think that foster/adopt families will ALL agree that every child is worth it. The day that we start regarding children as disposable, or not worth the fight, is the day that we have to question our own lives. Why are we worthy of life and purpose if they aren't? I look at my life. At the ashes. At the shape that the potter is still molding me into.....and I imagine my children one day, changing the world, one super hard day at a time. Because they have seen how God works in HIS time. They have seen Him redeem and restore and renew. I know, that even today, day 5 of great, that my mind still has no capability of understanding what God has in store for those that love and serve Him (1 Cor. 2:9). I believe everyone deserves a chance to find out. And that it's our job to afford them that opportunity.
I don't believe this is a job for everyone. But I do believe, that anyone that says "yes" will be sustained and walked with and held onto by a God that loves them as the orphaned child they once were.
I don't know what today is.....national adoption day or ugly dog day or whatever day. But I know that today, my son told me that he chooses to love me. It's a hard choice for him to make. Trust is HARD. But God.
Thank you to all of the women that chose life for their children. They are not always flesh of our flesh or bone of our bone, but somehow they are still miraculously (by the grace of God) our own.
It's National Adoption Month. I think there may have also been a National Adoption Day, but I'm blessed that I remembered today is Monday so special days outside of the norm don't register in this mama's memory. And even though this adoption road has been quite bumpy, adoption and foster care are things I do still feel passionate about......though my perspective has changed a bit.
When Jake and I first started this journey, I would read the above quote and sob at the idea of having a child that I could share those words with one day. A child that would embrace the idea of me as some ethereal woman robed in white with children bouncing on my knee with love pouring out of my veins and into the lives of all of the people around me. I was also delusional. First of all, I'm not ethereal. At all. Second, white makes me look like death. Third, no child, living a for real life, with for real people, will ever look at their mother with zero angst. So toss that romanticized version of "mothering" out the window, fast forward to actually having our child in his new forever home, and insert the ACTUAL reality. Adoptive/foster parents are NOT saints. They are NOT perfect. They do NOT have it all together. They do NOT want you to put them on a pedestal. They ARE sinners just like every other Tom, Dick and Harry. They ARE still people. And people, people are just the worst.
Really. We are. And adoptive/foster parents suck at life just like non-foster/adopt parents. The ONLY difference between the two is one said "yes". One said "yes". And "yes" for us looks like this:
Adoption/Fostering is:
- like putting yourself on the fast track to sanctification. If there is anything awful inside of you, children, especially children from really hard places, will bring those impurities to the service for God to burn off.
- not always about the child. Very very often, the child is the last redeemed soul......while the rest of the family finds themselves closer to God than EVER imagined before.
- a deliberate, intentional proclamation to gut it out. To CHOOSE DAILY from the beginning of the paperwork and forward to fight the fight and do the character building and LOVE regardless of the hard, ugly, terrible stuff that might happen.
- an unpredictable path with only one road map and one compass......THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE WITHOUT GOD.
- a beautiful love story
- a tragedy
- heartbreaking AND heartwarming
- a step of faith
- a whipping post
- a physical reminder of how God can and will heal......
Don't tell me I'm amazing. When I'm getting screamed at or spit on or breaking up another sibling fight, I don't feel amazing. When I'm hiding in the closet with my husband praying for a breakthrough for a child, I don't feel like what I'm doing is anything greater than anyone else. But then......when someone asks him "what does it mean to be adopted?" and he replies "it means mommy and daddy loves me".........there is beauty in the ashes. There is fruit. There is purpose in this pain. There is a reminder that anybody can say "yes"......because WE ARE NOT THE ONES THAT HEAL. We are not the saints. We are just the sinners. The vessels. The ones that prayed some crazy prayer one day and asked God to break our hearts. He broke our hearts. Our family. Our idea of family. We have had 5 days of good. 5 days straight. In the last 13 months, this is a record. The days have been long. We've analyzed and questioned and wondered and pondered. We've prayed and we've disciplined and explained and explained again and hugged it out and prayed prayed and then prayed. And some days, the efforts felt in vain. Some days, we labor without remembering that God is laboring with us. Some days I swear God throws His hands up and says "great! Thanks for making My job harder!". But we plug away. Day by day. And why? Because God.
Because God.
Someone asked me just last week "why Ukraine? Why not adopt from the US?" and I quickly replied, "because when we prayed, God said Ukraine". Is a Ukrainian childs soul not as valuable as an American childs soul? I think that foster/adopt families will ALL agree that every child is worth it. The day that we start regarding children as disposable, or not worth the fight, is the day that we have to question our own lives. Why are we worthy of life and purpose if they aren't? I look at my life. At the ashes. At the shape that the potter is still molding me into.....and I imagine my children one day, changing the world, one super hard day at a time. Because they have seen how God works in HIS time. They have seen Him redeem and restore and renew. I know, that even today, day 5 of great, that my mind still has no capability of understanding what God has in store for those that love and serve Him (1 Cor. 2:9). I believe everyone deserves a chance to find out. And that it's our job to afford them that opportunity.
I don't believe this is a job for everyone. But I do believe, that anyone that says "yes" will be sustained and walked with and held onto by a God that loves them as the orphaned child they once were.
I don't know what today is.....national adoption day or ugly dog day or whatever day. But I know that today, my son told me that he chooses to love me. It's a hard choice for him to make. Trust is HARD. But God.
Thank you to all of the women that chose life for their children. They are not always flesh of our flesh or bone of our bone, but somehow they are still miraculously (by the grace of God) our own.
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