Easter Time

Zella refers to every occasion, event, holiday, etc. as "___ time". The last few weeks as we've been out and about she has noticed that Easter time is on its way. Easter this year has been a little different for our family. It means a little more and the kids are a little older and they've started asking questions. And more importantly, they've started listening when we answer. But so in the last few weeks the puzzle pieces have started to form. I'm not saying I've connected any of the pieces, but I'm starting to see that all of these pieces might actually go to the same puzzle.

We were in the grocery store one day and Zella started talking about Easter. I asked her if she knew the real reason that we celebrate Easter and she gave me her "go-to church kid" answer......"Its Jesus' birthday". As we shopped, I started explaining to her.....Palm Sunday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday. I wasn't being loud. I was leaned over close to her as I pushed the cart and she sat face to face with me with her eyes huge with wonder. I could have been Cinderella talking the way she was looking at me. Like she was in love with the story of a man that died for her. A man that's madly in love with her. I can see it in her. She's smitten. I talked through the whole shopping trip. Feeding her more. And I was getting scowls from passers by. And I kept talking. But it hit me that day......this is the world I'm raising these kids in. A world where I get scowls for what a lot of people say is polluting kids' minds. What am I polluting them with? Hope?  Then I will keep on contaminating. Day in and day out I will add to the sludge in their minds that I strategically concoct with joy and discipline and selflessness and servanthood and love and faith and hope.

I was painting tonight and I thought back to the first painting that I sold. It was an anchor, painted on a cutting board. "This hope we have as anchor for the soul is both strong and steadfast." Hebrews 6:19. That was the first fundraising effort we made for adoption. God knew. He knew that one day, in my seeming hopelessness, I would remember that. He knew that He would bring us full circle.....from selling the painting to someone who needed a reminder of hope, in an effort to bring hope to a child. all the way around to needing hope that He is strong and steadfast and will complete His work in us. He delivered on that this last week. You know, it's hard for a lot of people to understand why adoption is hard. I think sometimes people assume that these children will feel rescued and look at us like we are their heroes. And it's just not like that. Regardless of the conditions that any adopted child was living in at the time of adoption, they're still being torn from their familiar environment. They are still being taken away from the only people they know. They are still being thrown into a new environment with expectations and people oohing and aahing over them and new sights and smells and sounds. They are still, at any age. having to completely reframe every part of their mentality. They have to learn to trust at a very basic level and depending on the circumstances and background that can take a very long time. And the families that are fighting through these trust issues are literally in the trenches. They wake up every morning ready to go to war because that's what it is. It's war against a world that scowls at us when we tell our kids about Jesus in the grocery store. Its war against an enemy that used someone to destroy a child. Its war against the lies spoken over that child that the enemy reminds them of every single day. And there are GREAT days. There are also hopeless days. Days when Jesus is all we have left. No tears. No sweat. No want to. Nothing left but Jesus. And hope. We have hope, because of Jesus. And that's enough. That's enough to get up tomorrow and fight again. Because what we are delivering, and running on, is the same product. Hope. Last Sunday we were driving to church and I look in the mirror and Zella and David both had their hands raised and eyes closed just lost in worship music. I turned it down and because I know that nobody had ever explained it to him, I asked him "David, do you know why we lift our hands when we sing these songs?" and his very quiet voice responded, "yes ma'am. Because we are singing to God and reaching for Him." I turned the music back up and let the little tear run down my face in silence. I screw up. I am NOT "the hands and feet of Jesus" to this child every day. I have asked God so many times why He chose us to fight this battle. And He has reminded me SO many times, He has already won this battle, LET HIM FIGHT FOR ME. And listening to David say that, it just reminded me of Gods power. Of the pure, raw power of hope. That just tiny little doses can be more hope than one person has ever had. That just hearing the name of Jesus can start to melt a stone cold heart. I held onto that this week. And needed it.....badly today.

That's the way this parenting stuff works. We have good days and bad days and days where our kids just absolutely hate us and days where they want to be our BFF and that's just the way the dice roll. Zella has this new thing that she does with Cole where he will talk to her and she will completely ignore him. And she's pretty strong because she will hold out for up to an hour and he gets fuming mad. I've never seen him as angry as he was today with her. It happened right before we were getting in the car to run some errands and when I got in the car I saw that he had his Bible in his lap. I asked what he was reading and he said he was looking up scripture about anger. (I'm totally cheesy smiling right now. Proud mama!). And him looking up that scripture led into some questions about theology that are pretty deep for an 8 year old but that also prove to me that having him sit in and listen to the sermon with us on Sundays is super beneficial. He was asking questions about the Trinity and about God's "bigness" and to each answer their was a follow-up question. He asked me "I just don't understand, if Jesus walked on the earth, and people could see Him, how could they still not believe?" And I thought back to our Pastors Good Friday service sermon. He said something like this........there's all this talk about whether or not Jesus died on the cross. Did he walk the earth? and the thing is that people don't want to believe in Jesus because if they admit that He died for them (and He did), they will owe Him their life. And I brought that up to Cole and he retorted with "but how can we die for Jesus?" and I looked in the mirror and saw David, in his seat, furiously angry. The scowl on his face was just plain ugly and mean and I could feel the crossbars on my shoulders. And before I could answer, Cole said "is that kind of what it means in Luke that Pastor Jamie talked about where it says to take up your cross daily?" Oh sweet boy. Yes. And that was my hope. That I have felt like an absolute failure of a mother in the last several months. But you know what? God has my back. He's still working in these kids. And isn't this my commission? He's still walking me through it every step of the way and proving to me that I'm not totally failing. The song "Children of God" was playing and Zella was lost again as the words sang "we are the saints, we are the children, we've been redeemed, we've been forgiven, we are the sons and daughters of our God". I felt like God poked me and said "just hold on". And I know what He meant. He meant to let Him work. He meant to keep praying over David even on the days when he has been mean or hateful and on the days when he's happy and being a 5 year old little boy. God meant to let Him fight this battle. My hope is in Him. And He will bring us full circle. These past few says, at Easter time, God has reminded me that He, however many years ago (my Bible knowledge needs a little refresher) He crushed the head of the enemy under His heel at Easter time. That He defeated death. That He died that I might have life to the fullest. And not just me. The scowlers. The Davids and the ladies at the grocery store with "I'm judging you" written all over their faces. Everyone. And that is hope. That is the anchor. And it is both strong and steadfast. My prayer is to be not just a taker of that hope, but a deliverer as well.