A Priceless Gift

Jim sent the following message from Ethiopia a few days ago.  I can hardly wait for him to get home and pour out every detail of his trip; he has been so good about e-mailing me as often as he can, but his messages are brief; internet is spotty, he doesn't have a lot of time, and it doesn't help that he types with two fingers.  :)  So I'll just have to wait.  I am still rolling all of this around in my heart...so deeply thankful, joyful, and burdened all at the same time.  We have prayed for and imagined this for so long.  I'm not even going to try to elaborate on his message right now.  Maybe after he's home and I've heard the whole story.  But for now...here it is:

Best days of my life: Becoming a Christian, marrying my wife, birth/adoption of my children, and today...meeting an incredibly Godly women who says she prays for us! She trusted God and gave two of her children to us and today I met her and her precious oldest daughter. By the way the dress fits perfectly. I can't stop fighting tears. SHE prays for us! I have lots of video, including the market place buying a cow, 3 sheep, and 4 chickens. I am blessed way more than I deserve. 

I will add that this meeting was NOT the purpose of Jim's trip to Ethiopia.  When we planned the trip we had no idea that this would be part of it.  God opened up doors in an amazing way...we could never have imagined the way that He would perfectly work out every detail.  We are so blessed.

Here we go again...

Jim is off to Ethiopia this morning, along with a close friend who also happens to be a deacon at our church.  They're on a vision trip with Children's Hope Chest, with the purpose of prayerfully seeking a Carepoint with which our church can partner.  We're super excited about the prospect of that partnership, but meanwhile another more personal partnership is also being forged. Well, it's not really being forged...I believe it was forged long ago by a God who has seen every one of our days before a single one of them came to be. Jim will be meeting tomorrow with an Ethiopian  young man who has become a trusted friend, and who has orchestrated something that seemed impossible to us two years ago.  A chance to meet with a woman we love with all our hearts without ever having laid eyes on her. An opportunity to speak words of love and esteem, in person, to someone for whom we've prayed and longed.  To embrace her, along with her young daughter.  To share with her and cry with her.  To thank God that He works all things together for good...even when those things include loss and suffering.

The flight departed this morning at 11am.  They'll arrive in Addis Ababa at midnight our time, which is 8am Addis time.  I don't know for sure what time the meeting will take place.  God knows...and we'll just be praying all day.  Join us if you're willing, please.  Honestly, my heart is breaking that I won't be there.  My tears at the airport this morning weren't only because I was parting from my husband. I was almost physically aching in my longing to touch and hug this precious member of our family, and for our tears to mingle.

Meanwhile, here are some pictures I sent along.  It's been two years since MJ and Y left Ethiopia...longer than that since she's seen them. They're almost unrecognizable compared with the pictures I have of them then.  But she'll know them.  

Thanks for your prayers...more updates to come.  Jim is in Ethiopia until March 30.

By the way, if there are any Blogger experts out there...what happened to my header?  I haven't posted since December, and when I opened it up this week the header was messed up.  I don't even remember how to change it!

A Few Macchiattos a Month

Before I tell this story, I need to give a little background info.  Ethiopia is the home of coffee.  Seriously.  And the coffee we drink here in America...well, it's really not the same beverage.  Maybe it doesn't even deserve to be called coffee.  I don't like coffee...except for those special coffee drinks that come with whipped cream and syrup on top.  When you're in Ethiopia, you're offered a cup everywhere you go.  A coffee ceremony is performed for every occasion, and black coffee is handed around in delicate little cups.  On my first visit to ET I never tasted it, and on this last trip I made it halfway through the week before a friend convinced me to taste hers. Oh. My. Goodness.  Now I know what coffee is supposed to taste like; it was smooth and rich, no bitterness, and it tasted like...well, coffee.  There's a chain of coffee shops in Ethiopia called Kaldis of which Ethiopians are very proud.  Jim and I laughed when we were there; it's been made to look very much like Starbucks, and it was actually a comfort to visit there (even if all I ordered that first time was a Coke; no coffee!) because it felt a bit like home.  At any rate, Kaldis sells their own version of the fancy coffee drinks we buy here at Starbucks, along with desserts (which are not a common part of one's diet in ET).  The most popular coffee beverage seems to be the Macchiatto, which we were offered every time we ate a meal in a restaurant.

Now, having explained about Kaldis, I want to share a story about a man I met in Ethiopia.  He's on the staff of Children's Hope Chest, and spent a lot of time with our team.  On the last day we were there, I had a long conversation with him (our team went out to lunch after church, and he and I sat together and had a very long wait for our pizza).  While we were waiting, Misikir told me about a passion God has given him.  Remember, he is already working for CHC, spending his days helping vulnerable children and their families, and he also has a beautiful wife and precious baby boy at home.  But he loves the Lord, and he has seen a need...an opportunity to serve God and the ones He loves, and he is determined to help.  He talked to me about young Christians in Ethiopia who are struggling because they do not have the resources to be educated.  He described, with enthusiasm, his desire to see young Christians being trained and prepared to assume roles of leadership in Ethiopia...to bring about change in their country for the glory of God.  He told stories of young people he knew personally, of how he feels concerned about the choices they are making when they don't believe education is attainable to them.  He told me one story about a young woman who had been able to begin studying nursing at a local university, but when she was no longer able to pay the tuition, she considered selling herself as a means of earning the money to continue.  She knew that her future was bleak without an education, and saw no other means of attaining it.  My friend was convicted that he needed to find a way to help his younger brothers and sisters in Christ.  He went home to his wife one day and presented her with his desire to begin helping.  He wanted to begin paying tuition for one young woman out of his own income, and wanted to know if his wife would support this.  She, too, believed that God would ask them to help, and agreed.  This giving was sacrificial for this young family.  And my friend knew that there were many more young men and women who needed help.  So he began to share his passion with his friends, and even began to dream of starting an organization through which Christian young men and women could be assisted financially (toward their education), and also discipled by older Christians who could guide them toward seeking godly vision for their lives.

What does all of this have to do with coffee?  As I listened to this young man's passionate love for God and others, he said something that almost made me laugh out loud.  Actually, it was one of those "don't know whether to laugh or cry" moments.  He was telling me how much money is needed to pay one month's tuition at a local university.  He was saying that when he shares his vision with others, hoping to find support, he will sometimes tell them that the amount needed is "only a few Macchiatos a month." If I understood correctly, the amount was around 600 birr; roughly $30/month.  Just a few Macchiatos.  It was just such a familiar line to me, yet the illustration he had laid out for me was so powerful.  My friend and the other Ethiopians with whom we were eating that day are not living in poverty; they are earning a good income by Ethiopian standards, and providing for their families.  But by American standards...well, I am wealthy in comparison.  And yet this man was challenging himself and others to sacrifice more, perhaps to sacrifice one of a few pleasures that they allow themselves.

The price of a few Kaldis Macchiatos...a few Starbucks Lattes a month...really can change someone's life.  The cost for my friend to support a young college student while pointing him to Christ.  The cost of sponsoring a child...providing food, education, Christian teaching.  It's hard to measure that in terms of coffee.  Or maybe not so hard.    

What shall I give Him, poor as I am?

This is a story about a 13 year old girl, a set of earrings, and a mother's heart convicted. (I'm telling it with permission from said "13 year old girl). The story begins with R getting her ears pierced.  She wasn't sure she wanted them pierced, but she knew she would be allowed to do it when she turned 13.  We went away on a special mother/daughter "retreat" to celebrate her birthday, during which we visited Tyson's Corner for shopping and dinner.  While we were there (after much agonizing over the decision), she got her ears pierced.  She was told that she needed to wear the piercing studs (tiny gold balls which were used to pierce her ears) for six weeks, and then she could change them and wear other earrings.  It just happened that the end of the six week time period came just as we were ready to leave for Ethiopia.  A few days before we left, we purchased a little set of 4 pairs of earrings for her.  They weren't anything extravagant, but she picked them out herself with a friend and was excited to wear them.  So she actually packed them to take along to Ethiopia; a bit out of character since she was generally packing sparsely in order to make more room for donations, but those little earrings didn't take up much space.

Fast forward to the middle of our week in Ethiopia.  We had noticed that many of the little girls in the Kind Hearts Carepoint had pierced ears.  They looked as though they had been pierced with tiny slivers of wood, and often appeared to be infected. After having just observed the sterile and relatively painless method by which R's ears had been pierced, I have a hard time imagining the scene in which those little slivers had been forced through tiny earlobes.  Looking back, I'm not sure I actually ever noticed a little girl with earrings; I'm sure there must have been some, but what stuck in my memory was those little ears with the pieces of wood pierced through.  One of the members of our team mentioned that she wished she had a pair of earrings to give to her sponsored child, who was one of the girls with infected ears, but she hadn't brought a pair with her.  I was excited to remember that R had brought her little earring set, and said that I was sure she would be happy to give a pair away.

Later that night, I mentioned the conversation to R.  She didn't say much, but agreed that she would give away one of her pairs of earrings.  She climbed up on the top bunk where she was sleeping, inspected the set, and showed me a pair that she had chosen to give away.  I, not at all sensitive to any trouble brewing yet, pointed out that I thought one of the other pairs was cuter, and might be a better choice. This is when things began to go south.  I hadn't yet realized that those earrings were at the center of a battle going on over R's heart.  I continued the discussion, suggesting that she choose a pair which I didn't know were her favorites, and then wondering why she didn't just give them all away; there were several little girls at Kind Heart to choose from (all with splinters in their ears).

She did not want to give them away.  She particularly didn't want to give away the pairs she liked best.  In retrospect, I can consider that she was separated at that time from everything that feels familiar and comfortable and safe to her.  She was away from her Daddy, who is her compass.      She was exhausted, hungry, and stressed.  They were the first earrings she had ever had; she did not want to part from those earrings.  I, in my typical fashion of processing out loud (when will I learn to be slow to speak?) just burst out my disapproval to her.  I don't remember my exact words, but it was probably something along the lines of this: "Really!?  You seriously don't know whether you want to give away your earrings?  Did you notice that some of those girls don't even have shoes?"  I won't go on (it's too painful to admit any more), but suffice it to say that I stood myself up on a platform of self-righteousness.  And I'll confess that my pride was at work.  She was bursting my bubble.  I wanted her to respond perfectly (every time, of course).  I wanted her to gush lovely, unselfish words about those little girls being so much more important than her earrings.  (I was expecting her to be...better than I am.)  Instead, she was being honest about her feelings.  I'm sure she knew that she should've been happy to give those earrings away, but she just wasn't.  By the end of the evening, I had told her to just give me the earrings; that I would give them away, and replace them for her when we got home.  I was less than compassionate.  (I would love to be able to make excuses for myself now, and say that I  was also tired, hungry, stressed, and away from my safe places, but then again, I am not 13 by a long shot. I knew better.)

Morning came, and with it, of course....His mercies.  R had (figuratively) unclasped her fist from around those earrings.  She really didn't say anything to me other than to tell me that she would give them away. And she did. It wasn't until two weeks later, after we were home, that she told me that she had found joy in giving them away.  That God had changed her heart.  And He changed mine, too.  Because that day was a bit of a turning point for both of us.  When her dad (unaware of this whole ugly story) asked her to share with him one thing God had taught her through this trip, her response was, "I learned not to hold onto my stuff."  That might sound small, but it's not.  It's an area where her heart is vulnerable, and we knew it, and she knew it.  And her Father, out of committed love for her, put her in a painful position in order to expose it to her more fully and start healing her...making her stronger.  And as for me...I will be processing for a long while all of the things God showed me about myself on that trip.  But what I will share now is just what He taught me about my daughter.  That God is using her to make me better.  That her raw honestly, in clinging on to those little pairs of earrings, showed me a reflection of my own heart as I so often cling to things that can never satisfy me, while I miss out on the joy of just laying them down and running to Him.  But since I'm not 13, I have developed the finesse to hide my own selfishness much better than she can hide hers...sometimes I even fool myself.  She is honest.  She is full of sin and struggle and uncertainty about who she is and who God is.  She is beautiful, and showing me that I am beautiful to my Father, even as I fall and get up and fall again.  And since I am an imperfect mom, and so often fail even in helping her as she falls and struggles to get up again, I am so thankful that her Father is there for her.

So this is the verse that came to my heart this morning.  Matthew 13:44:  "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field."


I'm so thankful that those earrings are in Ethiopia right now.  And just maybe, they were a down payment on a treasure.  Hidden in a field. 

What can I give Him, poor as I am?  If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;.  If I were a wiseman, I would do my part;  Yet what I can I give Him; give my heart.   

Christina Rosetti

Trees of Glory

Children's Hopechest currently has 20 carepoints in Ethiopia (they are praying and working toward increasing this number greatly over the next few years).  We visited four carepoints last week, but spent most of our time at two of them; Trees of Glory and Kind Hearts.  Each carepoint has its own distinct character, and the character at Trees of Glory seems to be a reflection of this precious lady:

Her name is Simret, and her sweet spirit and love of God permeate Trees of Glory.  She lives here, caring for over 130 children.  Most of the children walk to Trees of Glory from villages nearby, but 13 of them live here with her.  She is not married, and doesn't have children "of her own."  "I am lucky," she will tell you, "that God has given these children to me."  She showed me where the children sleep; girls in one building, boys in another. This is the girls' home: 

Simret was happy to show me the girls' rooms; small concrete floored rooms in a cinder block building, each room sparsely decorated with a cot and a small crate for a table, some draped with colorful cloths.  Each room neat as a pin, and each one conveying cheerfulness. Then she showed me her own room...tiny and with no more elaborate possessions or decorations than those of the little girls.  She showed me an equally tiny, spotless room with a small desk which is her office.  But her face glowed when she showed me another room...this one empty except for a mat on the floor.  This one, she explained, is where she prays.  That one moment, as this amazing woman showed me that room with joy, defined this place for me. 

We arrived and were welcomed by this sight; most of the children had gathered in a play area to sing and greet us:

Can you see the sweet girl in the center of this picture; holding a paper in her hands?  This was our first sight of Meseret, the 14 year old girl we sponsor at Trees of Glory.

Of the roughly 130 children attending Trees of Glory, over 100 of them currently have sponsor families.  Because of this, these children are receiving food, education, and Christian teaching/discipleship.  Without this program, most of these children would be hungry, and they would not receive schooling (they are required to purchase uniforms and books in order to attend school, and most of the families do not have the resources to do so).  But the heart (for me) of the sponsorship program is that these children are hearing the Word of God from the staff and teachers at Trees of Glory each day.  They are hearing that He loves them and has a plan for their lives.  They are receiving His love in tangible ways from the precious servants who work with them at Trees of Glory. They are seeing His heart in the hearts of Simret and others.  At this particular carepoint, many of the children are from Muslim families.  They are taking God's word with them into their homes. Jim and I visited some of the Children's Hopechest carepoints briefly when we were in Addis Ababa almost two years ago, and were excited about the work they were doing.  But this opportunity to look deeper and see the impact on these children has kindled my passion even more.

On the second day of our visit to Trees of Glory, we delivered care packages to the children from their American sponsor families (the team had also put together care packages for those children who don't have a sponsor yet.  Sponsored children received a picture and letter from their sponsor families, along with some small gifts sent to them from their family (toothbrushes, small toys, school supplies, etc.).  Those without a sponsor received a t-shirt and a few small items as well.  But every child received a blanket.  Apryl, one of the members of our team, had coordinated this huge effort to bring around 400 blankets with us.  We all carried some of the blankets with us in our luggage, but they were made by hands (large and small) all over the US.  Many of the children at Trees of Glory sleep on dirt packed floors at night, and the temperature gets quite cool when the sun goes down, so it was moving to see all of the children clasping their blankets close as they walked home that evening.  The blankets are the type made out of two pieces of fleece tied together along the edges with knots, and we did notice once particularly poignant occurance the next time we visited; some of the children had painstakingly untied every knot in their blankets in order to have an extra blanket to share with a sister or brother at home.

Meseret, the girl we sponsor at Trees of Glory, is a very reserved, poised young lady.  She at first was unwilling for us to take a picture of her, even as throngs of little ones all around us were begging us for "photographs." But on the second day of our visit, when we delivered care packages to all of the children,  R and I were able to sit down with Meseret and a translator, and to give her the package we had brought for her.  R had especially wanted to sponsor a girl close to her own age, and had carefully chosen some of the items in our care package, including a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and a necklace. When we went back to Trees of Glory for the last time, almost a week later, Meseret was wearing the necklace, took some pictures with us, and hugged us good-bye.  I really can't describe how special it was to be with her, and I'm praying it won't be the last time.

More soon...

Counting Down the Days...and Packing...

Feeling so blessed.  I went to a birthday party yesterday with Y, MJ, and A.  The party was for the most precious little sweetie from our church who was turning 3 years old.  Her parents asked the guests to skip the b-day presents, and instead asked everyone to bring...donations for our trip.  It almost took my breath away when her mom told me about it.  All of the children had a great time at the party, and we came home with a big box of donated school supplies; crayons, markers, glue, scissors, stickers...you name it.  We also brought home the rest of the items which had been donated by folks from our church, combined it with donated items we already had at home, and today I set out to pack it up.  It looked like so much, and the boxes were so heavy, I really was afraid we wouldn't be able to fit it all.  Here's the picture of the donations before I packed them:

R and I can each bring two bags, weighing no more than 50 pounds each, plus one carry-on.  We've already committed one of our four bags to blankets (the team is aiming to take a blanket for each of the 300 plus children we'll be serving; it's cold at night in Ethiopia, and many of the children don't have a blanket of their own).  We also need to take supplies to do a Bible story and craft with about 400 children.  Then we'll need to take our own personal things (we're trying to limit that as much as possible).  

I was able to fit all of the donated school supplies into one bag, and it weighed almost exactly 50 pounds!  Amazing.  The blankets fill one bag.  The craft supplies only filled about half of a bag, and only weighed about 20 pounds, so I'm excited that we actually have room for a lot more donations.  We can fit at least 25 pounds of donations into the bag with the craft supplies, plus whatever space we have in the bag with our personal stuff (I haven't tried to pack that yet).  If anyone wants to pick up any more school supplies to send along, we have 10 more days to go!  Below are the three bags I've packed so far; the blue one has the craft supplies, and has lots more room to be filled.  The children at the Carepoints DO NOT HAVE access to crayons, markers, glue sticks...etc., etc.  They don't have money. There is no Walmart.  I was really struck, as I looked at the wealth of donations I was packing, at how much I take for granted.  I do feel privileged to be given the opportunity to deliver this wealth of gifts to the children at Kind Hearts and Trees of Glory.  I don't want to have an extra square inch of space, or free ounce of weight, available in those bags when we leave.  Our family will take one last trip to Walmart next weekend to fill any remaining space.  I know that I will be coming home with my heart full...and my bags empty.  Thanks to all who are helping with this.

It's October...

October is upon us.  Do you know what this means?

Pumpkins.  We love them.  Eating them, that is...pies, cakes, pancakes, soup, cookies, roasted pumpkin seeds, etc., etc., etc.  My favorite is pumpkin pie for breakfast (Pumpkin pie is FULL of vegetables and milk.  I even steamed the pumpkin myself, rather than just opening a can.  I think pumpkin pie fits into the category of "super food" right along with chia seeds. Breakfast of champions. Just sayin'.)  Oh, and NG ate FIVE bowls of pumpkin soup at dinner tonight.  Onions and all.
 
R's birthday.  THIRTEEN!  Coming up in just two days.  Could it be...I'm a mom of a "teenager"?  I'm finding out just how sweet being mom to a "teen-aged" girl can be.  What a precious gift God gives us in having the privilege to not only watch our children grow, but to see His grace growing in them.

Jim's birthday is in October, too.  I won't announce his age, but I love celebrating him.

Fall camping!  Next weekend!  (Oh, how I hope it doesn't rain.  Or dip below 40 degrees at night.)

Apples!  (See pics below).  God is so good.  Okay, you might think I'm a bit overboard here with all of this reveling in the fall stuff, but God is just so good...how can you miss seeing His goodness in apples and pumpkins, and the fall leaves, and in celebrating birthdays, and...well, I digress from the apples. Delight in it! Delight yourself in Him!  DELIGHT!

I can't believe that we're only a few weeks away from going to Ethiopia.  So much to do, so much to process, so much prayer.  Pray with me, please. God is blessing my socks off with His perfect provision and preparation for this trip.  If you're interested in seeing the whole team, plus reading a bit more about the trip, check out this post on the blog Family From Afar.  Karen is the coordinator of this trip, and a huge advocate for the children we'll be serving.

I know I'm horrible about writing here.  I love to write, I love to share what God is doing.  Just working on finding the time.  More soon!

        

Our Adoption Video

I've been wanting and intending to make this video for the last 18 months. I guess it was just not the right time until now.  I know that my heart, and our family, are not the same.  My perspective, and my view of all that God has done and is doing, are different than they were 18 months ago.  So here's the story...for now.  :)

Sometimes you just have to show up

As I mentioned yesterday, Rebekah and I are going to Ethiopia in November.  We're going with a group from Children's Hope Chest, an organization Jim and I hooked up with when we were in Ethiopia to bring Y and MJ home.  We were compelled by the work they were doing to help not only orphans, but families.  Families with children who might otherwise been placed in orphanages had they not received much needed help and support. 
I'll be explaining more about Children's Hope Chest, and about our trip, over the next weeks, but meanwhile we were given a wonderful opportunity yesterday to share our passion and to raise money to help the children we'll be visiting in November.  Our church family has been a tremendous blessing to us over the last year since we joined, and the women's ministry agreed to host a fundraising breakfast for us.  Actually, to say that they agreed is an understatement.  Months ago I e-mailed the two ladies who lead the women's ministry to ask if they might be willing to help, and they enthusiastically RAN with it. I was overwhelmed.  We decided to have a One Purse breakfast, asking each lady who attended to bring a "gently used" purse.  We would eat breakfast,  R and I would share our presentation for Children's Hope Chest, and then everyone could "shop" for a new purse.  The suggested donation to "purchase" a purse was $10.  We expected between 30 and 40 women to attend, so I was hopeful that we might raise $300 or so.  Oh ye of little faith (okay, oh ME of little faith).  Through those ladies, God provided $903 for the children at Trees of Glory and Kind Hearts, the Children's Hope Chest Carepoints we'll be visiting.  I could hardly believe it.  I had to count it three times.

Here's the kicker.  I had been preparing for that presentation for weeks.  Yet I felt completely unprepared.  I like to talk.  I talk too much.  I'm a verbal processer, and I sometimes need to hear myself talk just to complete a thought (I'm not kidding...ask my husband).  I can certainly be eloquent at times, but there are plenty of times when I cannot put two sensible words together.  I'm much the same when I write.  Sometimes my heart just flows out through my words, and I can feel it.  But often when I try to write I just can't get it to flow, and I'm sure I couldn't write a convincing ad for a yard sale.  The night before the breakfast, after weeks of preparing, I was trying to write a final outline for my talk.  I couldn't get it out.  I tried to share with Jim what I planned to share the next morning, and it was awful.  A-W-F-U-L.  I was a bit panicked.  This was really important to me, and I had felt that God was leading me to do this, but I didn't know if I could. 

I'm sure someone out there knows just where I'm going with this.  I was right.  I couldn't do it.  I think that God was just clearing the path.  I got up the next morning (well, I didn't actually sleep, but I'll explain that in a minute), drove to the church with R and NG, went in, and started setting up.  I had no idea what was going to happen, or exactly how I could pull it off.  But I do know that HE wanted me to know that nothing that happened that morning would be because of me.  He wanted me to know that my words were not needed.  That if there was anything that any of those ladies needed to hear about adoption, or orphans, or families in Ethiopia, or about Himself, it would come from Him, not me.  And it did.  I'm thankful, so thankful, that I didn't walk into that church confidant that I had it all together.  Calmly assured that I had a great, convicting speech planned.  I had nothing to offer, and I knew it.  But the girls and I had prayed all the way there that if God had anything to say, He would say it.  That any agenda set forth would be His, not mine.  Truly, He chooses the weak to show Himself strong.  He just wanted me to stand up and open my mouth.  More of You, Lord, and less of me.  I'm crying a bit now as I write this, because as dear as those children and families we'll be serving in Ethiopia are to me, they are infinitely more precious to Him.  And He is teaching me more and more that I am precious to Him, too. 

I have to add that the two weeks prior to the breakfast were horrible.  Every day some new catastrophe seemed to happen.  The dog had a tumor, which required surgery.  MJ broke her collarbone.  My back went out.  A had a fever of almost 105 degrees for three days.  The bathroom flooded, I ran a red light (at an intersection with a red-light camera) rushing home between a myriad of doctor's appointments, and we found out that R needs a root canal.  There was more, but really...need I go on?  Jim was convinced that we were under attack because I was preparing for this presentation at church, but I wasn't so convinced.  I was thinking small.  The night before the breakfast (remember, the night I was flustered because I couldn't even explain to Jim what I would say the next morning), I was up literally all night coughing.  Perfectly healthy all day the day before, no cough at all.  I swigged cough syrup through the night, got up and went to church with no sleep.  (Okay, I admit it...I stopped at Starbucks for a Pumpkin Spice Latte in a moment of exhausted weakness).  I never coughed once during my talk, or felt sick at all.  By the time I got home, I had no voice, and was in bed and miserably sick for the rest of the day.  Here's the thing...I do believe that God preserved my voice and health so that I could go to that breakfast.  So that I could have the chance to see Him show up and show ME that He is all I need and more.  He could've just kept me from getting sick at all.  He could've kept me from coughing all night so I'd have been rested.  He could have kept me from getting sick and losing my voice afterward. But I don't wish He would've done it that way.  I would've missed the chance to see Him prove Himself to me (again).  He doesn't have to...He does it because He knows I'm weak, that my faith is often so small.  And He loves me anyway. 

Anyway, if you prayed for the breakfast, thanks.  And if you were there, well...thanks is a small word.  I was blessed.

Tomorrow I'll try to post the video we made for the breakfast.  :)

Pray for us tomorrow...

Oops...I meant to post about this earlier in the week.  The big news is, R and I are going to Ethiopia in November.  We're going with a group from Children's Hope Chest, and I'll explain more about that later.  Meanwhile, we are so blessed that our church is standing alongside of us in our desire to help families in Ethiopia, a passion we've had since we got home with Mihret and Yosi 18 months ago.  Tomorrow morning our church women's ministry is hosting a breakfast to raise funds for the Children's Hope Chest carepoints we'll be visiting in November.  Please pray that God will use us to speak up for these children, and that we'll be able to help provide for some of their many needs.  R and I are really excited. We made a video about our adoption, something I've been wanting to do for a long time, and we'll be able to share it at the breakfast.  I'll post it here after that.  It's really to late to post this asking for prayer for tomorrow morning, but whenever you read this, please pray anyway!    

Yum! (This was supposed to be a short post about our dinner, but turned into a long walk down memory lane.)

Believe it or not, until tonight I have never tried my hand at cooking Ethiopian food.  There are a number of reasons for this.  First, when we got home from Ethiopia we were rather overwhelmed with life in general, and new recipes were not at the top of my "to do" list.  Also, Y and MJ had no trouble adjusting to our American diet; they ate everything we put in front of them, and lots of it, so I didn't feel the need to prepare foods that were more familiar to them.  Finally, we were less than enthusiastic about our experience with Ethiopian food while we were there (except for our breakfasts, which were cooked at the guest house where we stayed and offered fluffy french toast every single morning).  Almost everything we ate in Ethiopia looked, smelled, and tasted pretty much the same.  Actually, we came home feeling as though not just the food but everything in Ethiopian smelled the same to us.  It was the smell of berbere, an Ethiopian spice that seemed to us to permeate everything in Addis Ababa.  Even the money smelled like berbere (you can still smell it on the bills we brought home for the children).  On our first day in Ethiopia the smell seemed exotic and intriguing.  By the time we were departing for home it seemed cloying and clinging and not very appetizing anymore.

Fast forward about a year to our visit to an Ethiopian restaurant (about a month ago).  We all loved it.  All eight of us scraped the plates and downed every crumb of injera (Ethiopian flat bread, which is served with every meal).  As I look back, all but two of the meals we ate in Ethiopia were what I now somewhat affectionately refer to as "street food".  We were not allowed to go out of our guest house with Y and MJ, so most of our meals were ordered from the same mysterious vendor who, upon receiving a phone call from our guest house, would rush there on foot with a menu and take our order.  The menu included several Ethiopian dishes, along with spaghetti and ravioli.  We would place our order, and the man would disappear, then reappear shortly with our dinner, which always included large portions of injera.  We quickly discovered that "spaghetti" and "ravioli" were code names for pasta covered in some sort of berbere flavored paste.  We could also order pizza, which tasted remarkably similar to the spaghetti and ravioli, except the berbere paste came on a pizza crust, and was accompanied by little packets of some spice which we found to be painfully hot.  Jim bravely attempted to order an Ethiopian dish from the vendor one night.  It was called Beef Firfir.  He still doesn't like to talk about it.  This all sounds as if we have a very negative opinion of Ethiopian food, but I'm just saying that in retrospect we've realized that most of what we ate there wasn't very good Ethiopian food.  We did have two wonderful meals while in Ethiopia, both at authentic Ethiopian restaurants, but unfortunately it was the "street food" which left a strong impression.  (Y and MJ didn't mind it a bit, I must say; more than once MJ put away a man-sized portion of "Ethiopian ravioli.")  Oh, and Jim wants me to point out that we never had a bad cup of coffee while in Ethiopia (though I learned the hard way that you do have to specify that you want sugar when you order a mocha latte from Kaldi's, the Ethiopian version of Starbucks). 

When we brought Y and MJ home, we also brought a large bag of...berbere.  It has remained in our pantry for 13 months, tightly sealed in a freezer bag so as not to permeate all of our food with the smell.  So finally this week I decided to try cooking with it.  I found a recipe for "Ethiopian Sloppy Joes", an adaptation of a dish called Dinish Wat.    And when I opened the bag of berbere, I really did flash right back to the first day in Ethiopia, when that smell was exotic and intriguing.  (And I longed, as I have many, many times over the past 13 months, to be there and experience beautiful Ethiopia all over again.  But that's another story.)  I started preparing dinner, and while it was cooking I had to make a run to the grocery store and left R tending the pot.  When I came home and opened the front door, the whole house smelled of berbere, and I froze in the doorway because I was overwhelmed with the pleasure of it.  It's amazing how smells can spark memories and emotions.  And how time can allow lovely memories to overcome the difficult ones.  I was so excited to put that food in front of MJ, knowing how much she would relish it, and I wasn't disappointed.  It's been awhile since she's eaten a man-sized portion of anything, but she did it tonight.  Actually,  everyone loved it.  I'm even claiming medicinal qualities for this dish, because Jim has a bad cold and the berbere cleared his sinuses right up.

The next time I go to Ethiopia (can you hear a prayer in there?), I'm going to relish the Ethiopian food.  Even if it's "berbere ravioli."  I'm going to appreciate it...value it...enjoy it.  

Meanwhile, here's a shot of our "Americanized" Dinish Wat:

And here's a link to recipe:

Ethiopian Sloppy Joes

But if you want it to be really good, you're going to need some of this:

And I'm not sure if I'm willing to share mine.  I checked, though, and you can order yourself some on Amazon.  Enjoy.
:)

Korah

God has been opening our eyes.  And filling our hearts.  I'm not going to make much comment on what I'll share with you in this post, as it really speaks for itself.  I know that these are hard things, but I know that sometimes it's tempting to think it would be easier not to know.  But there is so much more joy in standing right where He wants us to stand, even if it's not pretty or easy or clean.  In fact, I find that I really just want to turn my eyes away from much in my life that seems pretty and easy and clean, because it distracts me from the infinitely more glorious things that He has for me.

The following link is to a post written by an adoptive mom who traveled to Ethiopia to work with "the least of these".  She was doing mission work with Ordinary Heroes, and spent some time in a place called Korah, which is in Addis, the capital of Ethiopia (where Jim and I went to bring Gracie and Little Man home).  Korah is basically a dump, and is home to an estimated 130,000 people.  I know it's a long post, but I'm hoping someone will take the time to read it.  And to pray about what God might want your eyes opened to.
Here's the link:  http://talkissheep.blogspot.com/2010/07/korah-day-i-have-given-up-on-numbering.html

And here's a video of Korah and of the hope that God can bring out of despair...through people who open their eyes.
 

Proverbs 24:12

Once our eyes are opened, we can not pretend that we don't know what to do. God who weighs our hearts and keeps our souls, knows that we know and hold us responsible to ACT.

Sweet Pea's first blog post

Hi! Sweet Pea here. Today my Mom taught me how to put posts on the blog so that I could post while she is in Ethiopia. What you are reading right now is actually my first blog post ever. So, anyway, I hope I'll be writing down what's happening - in Ethiopia! (If my mom and dad are able to call and tell me what's going on!)  You'll know just about everything thats going on on the other side of the world. Things like meeting our children or visiting the care center. Anything exciting.

Well, that's all for now. Except one thing; my mom is adding a picture of our family. Sort of. I made us out of Legos. What do you think?

Sweet Pea