A 31 Day Fast

I have a sharp tongue.  I can be critical and judgemental.  I'm a bit of a control freak.  All of these areas in which I struggle with sin in my life are really just symptoms of a much bigger problem.   The problem is clear to me...I need to trust God and submit myself more deeply to Christ's authority in my life.  I need to trust Him more, believing that He has my life (and the lives of my husband and children) in His capable and loving hands.  I don't need to be in control, because He is.  I am aware that my harsh words and criticism (far too often directed at my husband and children) are the response to deep fear.  Fear that things will "go wrong."  What if my husband doesn't lead well (parent well, conduct family worship the "right" way, make the "right" decisions for our family, participate in the "right" ministries, pray enough, eat healthy food, wear the sweater without the holes to church, choose the right restaurant for dinner...oh my...how did all of that come out?!)  What if the children don't turn out "right"?  What if I don't teach them the "right" subjects in school, or they don't learn them anyway, or they aren't hard enough workers, aren't kind and sweet, don't behave well enough in public, don't play a musical instrument, don't comb their hair or match their clothes, don't have nice table manners, go out in public with snotty faces, can't answer the questions in Sunday School, etc., etc., etc.  Oops...there I go again.  And the biggest fear (the fear behind all of the other fears)...what if something I DO causes them to turn away from Christ?!?  What if my sins and failures cause my children to sin and fail?  What if my greatest desire for them...to see them them love and follow Christ...is thwarted by my own example to them?  And so, driven by all of that fearfulness, I nag.  I snap.  I criticize.  Not all the time...and there are plenty of days when our home flows  with sweetness and laughter and joy and hope.  But there are far too many moments and days when the poison of my fear emerges from my mouth like venom.  I want to trust God to work in my heart, and in the hearts of my husband and children.  I want to grow in faith, in the knowledge that He loves them even more than I ever could, that He has a good plan for them, and that He will be faithful to complete His work in me and in them.  I don't need to fear.  I don't need to control.  I need to rest in Him.

So, the fast.  Today is April 1st, and today (and for the month of April), I am fasting from criticism.  I am determined to break the habit, and pull out the roots of it.  So I am going to be radical about criticism for this one month.  I am not allowing even what I would usually call constructive criticism.  I want to be clear that I know how necessary it is for me, as a mother, to be able to correct my children, but for the next 31 days I am even going to put a fairly extreme limit on correction (I'll explain that later).

I do want to be clear that I don't believe that I can, in my own strength, conquer this sin in my heart, or that by controlling what comes out of my mouth I can change what is in my heart.  (Luke 6:45...for out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks).  My desire is to pursue God wholeheartedly, and to seek His healing.  I'm committed to pray intentionally and specifically each day during my "fast" that God will use this time to transform my heart...to form new "habits" of trusting in Him more fully and speaking words of grace.   So here we go.

The rules:
1.  Avoid speaking any critical words.  Criticism is generally defined as being related to faultfinding. Interestingly, when I looked up antonyms for "criticism", some of the words listed were "approval", "praise", "compliment", "plaudit".

2.  Avoid, as much as possible, correction.  This is different from criticism, and yes, I intend this even with my children.  My intention is to allow correction only when it involves a safety issue or a clear "heart" issue (obvious sin).  If one of the children is, for instance,  hanging from a chandelier, preparing to climb out of a second story window, or playing with a knife, I'll have to put a stop to that.  If a child is treating someone else unkindly, or generally sinning against someone, I'll need to address it.  What I will try NOT to address are any behaviors which are not related to sin...basically all of the stuff that is generally annoying or irritating, and which often really does need to be addressed, but from which no real harm will come if I let it go for a month.  Things like someone chewing with their mouth open, or not sitting up at the table, or humming while doing their schoolwork, or holding their pencil the wrong way, or wearing clothes that are dirty or mismatched.  I could go on and on with this list, but you get the point.

On a side note, I do know that generally it is good and wise to address all of these "small" issues.  It's honoring to others to practice good table manners, to be clean and neatly dressed, and to avoid annoying behaviors.  It's important to learn to hold your pencil correctly!  It's even helpful to be able to match your clothes.   But for an avowed control freak like me, it's just going to be necessary to go "cold turkey."  And for my houseful of children, who are far too accustomed to having their every transgression addressed (and often not too gently), I imagine it might be quite a relief.  It might even help bring some transforming grace to some of the children who I fear might be following in my footsteps.  I'd like to see the children be less critical, and maybe they will follow my example.  I know that after this 31 days I will need to be able to correct even these "lesser" issues, but my hope is that I will do it less frequently and more gently.  I don't believe it will cause any lasting harm to ignore some of those things for one month.  Though you might want to avoid coming for dinner in April if you can't tolerate seeing some open-mouthed chewing.  :)

3.  When I fail (which I will), I need to have a "do-over" as quickly as possible.  Take it back.  Re-state it.  Ask for forgiveness.  I'm not going to make excuses or tell myself that I won't let it happen again.  Zero tolerance.

4.  Control my face, body language, and tone of voice right along with my words.  The right words (or even no words) can be completely negated by a sarcastic, "snarky" tone of voice, and angry look, or arms folded across one's chest.

5. Praise and encourage as much as possible.  I want to replace my harsh words with healing words.  I'm not going to try to prescribe this (nothing along the lines of "I will say nine encouraging things every 47 minutes"), because my heart is to pray that God would give me His heart and words for my family, rather than to set up an something which might only result in me trying to control with my words.

6.  Pray, pray, pray.  And expect to see God work.  What might God do to transform my heart, and even my home, when I seek Him in this?  I believe that He will bless this.  My desire first and foremost is for Him, but I do believe that "all these things will be added unto me" (Matthew 6:33).  My time at His feet, praying and studying His word, and seeking His help, far outweigh any of the other "rules" I've set up for myself.

I recently read something helpful in Paul David Tripp's War of Words.  There's a section in the book called "Choosing Words of Grace" in which Tripp emphasizes "five elements of grace-full talk."  They are based on Ephesians 4:29, and here they are (in abbreviated form):

     -Be unshakably committed to wholesome talk.
     -Consider the person to whom you are talking ("...only what is helpful for building others up).
     -Consider the problem you are being called to address ("...for building others up according to their 
      need).
     -Consider the process ("...that it may benefit...give grace to....those who listen).
     -Don't let your speech hinder the Holy Spirit's work.

My intention is to write about my progress here over the next month.  Not every day, but often enough to help me...not only to stay accountable, but to recognize God's hand and help.

Oh, and one more thing.  I am NOT TELLING anyone else in my household about this little experiment.  I haven't written on this blog for months, so no one here ever reads it, or is ever on Facebook.  If you read this, please don't tell.  I think my fast would be much less effective if everyone here knew about it.  I want to bless them, but I also think that one of the measures of the effectiveness of this "fast" will be whether they notice a difference without knowing what I'm doing.

Thank you, Daddy.

Jim gets up before anyone else is awake, as he leaves for work quite early.  Usually when I get up later he's in the living room with his coffee and his bible, the house still quite and still.  This morning when I came down, he was sitting in his usual spot, but there was loud music coming from the kitchen.  The kitchen door was closed, and I assumed that E was up doing schoolwork in the kitchen (he gets an early start some days).  But no one else was up.  Jim said that he got up this morning feeling a bit discouraged.  But as he came downstairs, he heard his favorite Third Day song blaring from the dark kitchen.  He went in to find the music coming from my laptop.  Which was closed.  I was using it before going to bed last night, and hadn't shut it down.  But there hadn't been any music playing.  And I had closed it.  Don't know about you, but my laptop doesn't generally start playing music on it's own...after it's been closed, and in the middle of the night.  Jim opened it up and saw that the music was from a playlist on a site with which he wasn't familiar (it was a blog I read sometimes).  He said that when he saw what was going on, he just decided to "go with it," and he worshiped.  He just raised his hands and worshiped.    


Do you think God works that way?  I do.  James 1:17 says, "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."  


Do you suppose that the "Father of Heavenly Lights" can play music on a laptop? (Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us...).  


Do you imagine that He knows your favorite song? (You perceive my thoughts from afar...You are familiar with all my ways...).


Do you believe that He wants to encourage you?  (Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.  For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.)


I am so often inclined to miss His hand upon me.  To evaluate all that happens through the lens of human reason.  How much do we miss when we do that?  When we simply fail to look up?  To remember that every good and perfect gift is from above, and to just bask in His love and goodness?  To say thank you?


When I was in college, just coming to know my Father, I knew a young man who was in love with Him.  When this young man prayed, he called God "Daddy."  It was foreign to me at the time, and even uncomfortable...relating to God that way.  Imagining Him loving me that way.  But now, with so many years to look back on, so many memories of experiencing His loving hand upon me...I get it.  It's no stretch at all for me to imagine my husband turning on some music to encourage one of our sons or daughters.  Knowing that they were needing encouragement, and knowing them well enough to offer it in a way that would bless them.


So thank you, Daddy.  Thanks for the encouragement for Jim, and for me.  And for all of the children, who heard their earthly daddy share this story with them this morning, with tears in his eyes. 


Oh, and by the way, here's the link to the blog with the music: A Place Called Simplicity.  It's a favorite of mine, and well worth reading, but seriously...the play list is fabulous.   :) 

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.  :)

The Week After Easter

"We never did the Empty Tomb Rolls!" R said this morning, as we finished our breakfast.  Empty Tomb Rolls, along with a few other traditions that we enjoy during Lent, didn't happen this year.  Every year we start out the season of Lent (and Advent too), with a frenzy of plans, activities and expectations, but some of them always fall by the wayside as the days go by and the busyness of "real life" co-exists with our attempts to make the days holy.  But I'm learning...that all of the days are holy. It's not just knowing that all of the days are holy...it's beginning to learn to live them as if they are. To experience the holiness of everyday. I love the week after Easter.  Or Christmas.  Or any holiday.  I look forward to those ordinary days perhaps more than I look forward to the days which are slated as "special" on our calendar.  The excitement, the frenzy of activity, the growing expectation, and then the joyful glow of the long anticipated holidays...those are lovely.  But there is also, for me, often a sense of unreality.  God doesn't use our calendar.  I do love to honor Him, and to offer up those special days to His glory, but my heart truly longs to learn to stay with Him in a deeper more consistent way...every day.  The quiet let-down of those "after holiday days" is often, for me, a time of deeper connection with God.  I've let go of the expectations of making the days special, and I'm knowing that it's only Him...without the rituals or traditions...just Him.

There's another thing too.  It's all of those special traditions and rituals that we never got around to during Lent.  We started out the Lenten season by drawing a slip of paper out of a bag every day...each slip with a special lesson or activity to prepare us for Easter.  Let's just say that there are still a few (quite a few) slips of paper left in the bag.  And we started reading a chapter each night from a book called Amon's Adventures, which we should have finished on Easter Sunday.  But God provided us with some different opportunites on the last few evenings before Easter...and we still have four chapters left to read.  And of course, there's always those Empty Tomb Rolls.  We prayed together a lot.  We learned some new worship songs which we can keep singing.  We dyed some beautiful eggs (I think my ears are still hurting from blowing out 35 eggs; you can see a few of them in the picture at the top of this post!).  Best of all, during those 40 days of Lent we worshipped and talked and read and worshipped some more about the good news of Easter, and I think MJ has really begun a journey of learning and understanding something about grace.  But we're not finished!  Easter (the Easter that's a day on the calendar) is over, but for us it isn't ever over.  So we're finishing up Amon's Adventures this week.  And today we're making Empty Tomb Rolls.  And we watched some "Easter Movies" this week even though Easter is over (at MJ's request). She just keeps wanting to hear the story over and over again.  The days are holy.  The days are holy.   

Happy Birthday, Sweet Boy

It's raining today, and I'm sitting in the kitchen with the rain sound soothing me, and little Y just laid down for a nap upstairs.  We've been singing "happy birthday" to him all day, and I know he doesn't really know what a birthday is, but he knows it makes him happy.  He keeps asking if he can "open" his birthday.  I know he means he wants to open a present, but I don't correct him, because I understand and I too want to "open" the day; unwrapping the layers of it with the anticipation of joy.  He's never celebrated a birthday before, and I have never looked into those brown eyes and celebrated with him, remembering the long string of days and years leading up to that special day the way I have with the older children.  The ones who grew inside of me, with all of the days of their lives laid out behind us in a familiar path. 

Last year I had only known him for a few short weeks when his birthday came, and we passed the day with little fanfare because we knew he wouldn't understand, and we didn't want to further confuse him or his sister when there was already so much adjusting to be done.  And I...would have struggled to celebrate the way I can today.  Because I was struggling to "find" him.  I was looking into little eyes which often looked back at me with cool detachment.  I was holding and hugging and carrying a little body which melted just as easily into the arms of any stranger.  But now ...now I have days and weeks and months...adding up to more than a year...of knowing him.  Knowing him. He has become familiar to me.  His eyes look at me with delight and trusting expectancy.  His arms reach for me. His little voice calls for Mama, and I know it's not just a word...no longer just a label that he uses to have a need met.

I carried him upstairs to his nap just now, singing to him as we went.  And I sang as I laid him on his bed, and his eyes were on mine the whole time, and they were twinkling with the pleasure of it.  The pleasure of "happy birthday" sung again and again, and the pleasure of the moments alone with Mama, and of snuggling into the bed and me stroking his soft blanket against his face because I know he likes that.  And I knew that he wanted the fan on, and I knew that I would turn and walk away and make it almost to the door before he would call me one more time.  And I heard the words he always says..."Hug, Mama."  I go back and hug him one more time, with him smiling  and his eyes sparkling because he knew I would come back and hug him again.  And I looked down at him and realized, tingling, that it had happened.  I had wondered for so long if it would ever come, and now I saw that it had come upon me...like a soft blanket placed on a sleeping child, because I had never been aware of the moment it came, but only relaxed in the warmth of it.  The warmth of feeling that he is mine in a way that is sure and safe and abiding.  That the invisible, steely bond that existed from birth between me and his older brother and sisters, now holds him to me as well.  I looked down at him and had a strange soft shock of remembering that he did not grow inside of me...but knowing that he is just as much part of me as if he had.

And now I sit and ponder all of this (I'm thinking about Mary, and how she "treasured it in her heart"), because I am seeing once again how we prayed that God would bring us children from Ethiopia; children who needed love and healing, and that He would let us love them, and help us to help them heal and grow. And then how He brought them here, but that He has just as surely been healing  and growing me.  Because all through this last year God has been showing me that I was living like an orphan.  That I didn't really know how to love Him.  That I sometimes look at Him with that same cool detachment with which little Y once viewed me.  That I too often look for my sustenance and support from arms other than His.  I am learning to know and trust the invisible, steely bond that has always been there to connect me safely to my Father.  I have placed my trust in Him again and again as I walked the hard path of the last few years, and He has never failed.  I am learning to know that "Father" is more than just a label for a distant being who holds authority over my life.  He loves me.  I am safe in his arms.  He sings over me...delights in me.  He will always be there when I call to Him.  Can I ever, ever teach Little Y (or MJ) anything that compares with what I have learned through having them in my life?  I can't...but I will be a vessel through which their Father will teach them.  I can trust Him for that too.

The rain is not darkening the brightness of this milestone for me, or for my littlest son.  I have had some moments of grieving and praying today for Meselech (the children's Ethiopian mother), but this date on a calendar is not something that she is aware of.  This day is for Little Y and for us, and it's a gift.  We're going to keep opening it all day long.

(By the way, I've dropped the children's "blog pseudonyms" and I'm just using their initials.  If you know us in real life, you'll know who I'm talking about without having to remember the nicknames...and I won't have to keep up with the nicknames either!  If you don't know us in real life, their initials are under their pics on the sidebar.)

A Prayer

The following prayer is from John Wesley, and I happened upon it just now through a series of somewhat unlikely twists and turns.  These words are just what my heart needed to hear today, and so of course my Father provided them to me.  Because He gives me everything I need. Every day, all the time.  Why do I doubt?  Why do I sit harboring my secret fears and wondering if I will have the strength to walk through some trial that has yet to come?  He is unfailingly patient with me.  He continues to gently speak the truth when I am all but covering my ears with my hands.   Honestly, my heart (which just moments ago was aching) is filled with joy because once again He just whispered that He loves me, by offering just what I needed to sustain me.  I am going to copy this in my journal, and read it often today.  I thought these words might speak to someone else's heart as well as mine.

The Covenant Prayer

I am no longer my own, but Yours.
Put me to what You will, rank me with whom You will;
Put me to doing, put me to suffering;
Let me be employed for You or laid aside for You,
Exalted for You or brought low for You;
Let me be full, let me be empty;
Let me have all things, let me have nothing;
I freely and heartily yield all things to Your pleasure and disposal.
You are mine and I am Yours.
So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven.
Amen.

(and Amen again.)

Dangerous Half-Truths

I believe that Satan hates adoption. The very act of it is a reflection (however poor sometimes) of God's love. And so the enemy would love to thwart this knitting together of families. One of the ways he does this, I have become convinced, is by telling half truths. He is a master at this (remember Eve in the garden?), and he knows that he is more likely to sway us this way. We are on our guard against direct lies, particularly when they are directed toward truths the our Father has instilled in us. So he is more subtle.

One of the hardest things about adoption, for me, is the way that it brings all of my insecurities to the surface.  Despite the myriad ways that God has affirmed this journey, assured us of His perfect design for our family, and proved His loving and sovereign hand over it, I doubt.  I doubt myself, but I know that in doing so I am really doubting Him.  In doubting my own abilities, I'm doubting that God can/will enable, equip, and bless, and redeem me as He says He will.

There are times when I just don't think I'm a good mom.  And of course, sometimes I'm right to feel that way.  Although there are plenty of times of grace and joy and love in our home, there are also times when I fail, and repent, and fail yet again.  And it's in those times that the enemy slides behind me, and the words he whispers, the half-truths, swirl behind eyes closed in frustration.  "They could have had a better mom." The pain of it grips my heart, and hot tears move behind my closed eyelids every time.  Someone else could love this precious girl more; make her feel more secure.  This sweet little boy would have bonded more quickly to a different, better mother.  He's talking to me about Gracie and Little Man.  He's playing on those insecurities that are often so near the surface.  I've had plenty of times, over all of the years I've been blessed by motherhood, when I've questioned myself as a mom, but this is new.  The older children never had any other options; their very existence depended on me as their mother, from the instant of their being.  But Gracie and Little Man?  Well...it could have been someone else.  Some other family could have made that call, filled out the paperwork, traveled across the ocean to bring them home.  Seven thousand children were adopted from Ethiopia last year, and it's easy to wonder whether these two little ones didn't miss out on some better opportunity.  There.  I've said it.  And that's when I have to turn away from that half-truth and grope for the Truth.  Why is it a half-truth?  Well, the fact is, there are better moms than me.  I'm not going to lay out all of my specific areas of sin and failure as a mom, but we can all be fairly sure that no matter what it is we're doing, there's probably someone out there who could do it better.  But here's why it's only a half-truth.  Because God has promised me that He is in charge.  ("The Lord has established his throne in the heavens, and His kingdom rules over all" Psalm 103:19).  It doesn't matter if there are better moms out there, because I'm the one He picked for them.  They are the ones He chose for me. He knit them together in their mother's womb, yes.  And all of their days were written for them before a single one of them came to pass.  Even the day when their father died in Ethiopia.  The day when the were left in an orphanage.  All of the days when they were hungry and sick, scared or lonely.  And...the day when I picked up the phone and made the call that connected them to me, their mother, across an ocean.

All six of my children are right where God meant for them to be.  All six of them will benefit from every ounce of grace and love that God pours into them through me, and they will all survive my sin and weakness, and God will use it all to grow them and shape them and love them.  It is all His grace.  For them.  And for me.  And that is the Truth.  The whole truth.  I am sure that I will hear those whispered half-truths again, and I will spend long moments in doubt and fear.  But I am hopeful that each time I will be quicker to turn to the Truth, and that all six of these precious ones entrusted to me will learn that lesson along with me.

The Lord is good to all, and His mercies are over all His works.

All Thy works shall give thanks to Thee, O Lord, and Thy godly ones shall bless Thee.

Psalm 145:9-10

One Year Ago Today

On November 2, 2009, Jim was in Washington DC receiving an award.  He rarely travels for his job, so that was unusual.  Meanwhile, I had made a casual inquiry into a listing on Rainbow Kids, a waiting list for orphaned children.  I hadn't planned to make that inquiry.  There were so many reasons why it wasn't practical.  We were already working with a different agency (and would potentially lose a lot of money if we switched).  We were really planning to adopt one little boy and then adopt another little boy in a year or so, and this listing was for siblings; a little boy and a little girl.  We never imagined a girl! So when I saw the listing, I ignored it.  Then a friend (a mom who had already adopted from Ethiopia) e-mailed me the same listing.  She had seen it too, and wanted to know if I had noticed it.  I e-mailed the agency which was representing those two children (thinking to myself, "I'm just curious.  We couldn't really pursue this, but it can't hurt to ask..."). 

So mid-morning on Monday I received an e-mail back from the agency.  It seems that somehow, even though the listing had been up since Friday, and I had waited and dragged my feet about responding to it, I was the first person to inquire about those two children.  The caseworker said that she could send me the file, but that I would need to let her know right away if I was interested.  I waited by the computer (I can picture it now with complete clarity; the computer was on the dining room table, which was stacked with various piles of things I needed to get done that day), and then it came.  The e-mail was titled, "Beyene Siblings information", and it contained medical reports, social reports...and pictures. 

I am not a particularly spontaneous person.  I like to plan.  I like to know what's coming.  I was undone at the thought of making a decision of this magnitude based on some sparse medical and social information, and three pictures.  And without my husband.  I was calling him frantically on his cell phone, and though he was hearing what I was saying, every time he tried to respond I could only hear static.  Finally, I did hear this; "Send me the pictures."  I e-mailed them to his phone.  I waited.  I called again, spoke with him, and again could not make out his response.  Then he sent me an e-mail.  I still have it.  It said this:

Let's go for it. God is big! I have to turn phone off but I will call latr.

So there it was.  I called the caseworker, and she said that I needed to fill out an application and send a check.  At that point, I was just feeling stunned.  And scared.  I sent Jim another e-mail, telling him some more details about our next steps, and telling him that I was scared.  He immediately sent me another e-mail:

God is good.  Those are our kids.

He was right.  On both counts. Those are our kids.  I'm crying now even as I type those words.  And God is so good; I cannot even begin to describe His goodness in bringing us to that day a year ago, and in every day since.  I cannot even begin to describe His goodness in the ways that He protected the children and prepared them to be part of our family, or the ways that He affirmed us through every step of the long months that followed as we tried to get them home.

I wasn't allowed to post those pictures last year on November 2, but I can post them now.  Here they are:

And here they are now:

God sets the lonely in families.  Psalm 68:6

Celebrating these "anniversaries" in our adoption is more than just reminiscing about special days.  These are milemarkers that point me to God's goodness, sovereignty, mercy, and grace.  To me, celebrating them is an act of worship.  Today our prayers are full of thanksgiving and adoration.  

Sing to the Lord a new song;

Sing to the Lord, all the earth.

Sing to the Lord, bless his name;

Proclaim good tidings of His salvation from day to day.

Tell of His glory among the nations,

His wonderful deeds among all the peoples.  

For great is the Lord and greatly to be praised.

Psalm 96:1-4 

Amazing.

I came across this today:



What does it look like to lay down your life?  To live out the gospel? I guess it looks different for each of us, but I think a common thread might be that it might look foolish.  Even crazy.  And it isn't likely to be easy or comfortable.  But...oh, the joy.  I only know this because the weak, faulty efforts I've made to live out the gospel are always hard and uncomfortable, and probably look crazy.  But soaked with joy.  Just dripping with it.  Leaving me thirsty for more. 

A birthday, a good cry, and a sovereign God

Today is Gracie's birthday.  This day has been greatly anticipated at our house for weeks.  Not only by Gracie (who announced in frustration one day last week, "Mama, my birthday is NOT coming!"), but also by all of her brothers and sisters. So finally it is here.  And I spent the early morning hours crying at the kitchen table.  That's probably not a big surprise to those who know me well.  I'm a cryer.  But these tears honestly took me by surprise.  I did cry when Boo turned five last year:  I cried because she was my baby, and five just feels like the end of "babyhood" to me.  Five is such a...well...a big girl.  But I was looking forward to Gracie's birthday with no hint of any such feelings.  Then last night before bed, Boo started asking me to tell her what she was like when she was one.  And what she liked to do when she was two.  (She was in the mood for some bonding time with me, and she knows just what buttons she can usually push to get it!)  I answered her questions, but I did it quietly, and with some discomfort, because I was so aware of Gracie in her bed on the other side of the room.  I had just given her the "last hug as a four year old."  And as I reminisced with Boo I was all too aware that I could never answer those same questions for Gracie, although she has already asked some of them.

So this morning I sat down at the kitchen table, making a list for an early morning run to Kroger to take care of Gracie's special requests for her birthday meals.  I wasn't thinking about anything deeper than whether I should buy a cake mix or make it from scratch, when a wave of images and grief washed over me.  This is the day when we are celebrating her birthday.  The images that were hitting me hard and fast were of a precious baby born in a hut in rural southern Ethiopia.  A dirt floor.  A sweet cry.  The grandmother (who I know was present at her birth) holding up the baby in satisfaction.  Damp, warm brown skin.  Curling tendrils of black hair.  The tired mother smiling.  The father clapping his hands together.  Even as I write it the tears are coming again.  I want to be there.  I want to hold that sweet baby, and drink in the smells and sounds...breath the warm African air of her true birthday.  And I want to see her take her first steps across that dusty ground, and hear her first laugh (I love that laugh so much) and her first throaty words.  But no matter how vivid my imaginings are, those memories will never be mine.  They belong to Meselech, Gracie's first mother.  The realization that hits me, though, is that no matter how deep my longings are, I would never truly wish for anything different.  I have to often remind myself that God's plan for Gracie is perfect, and better than the easier, less painful way I would have planned for her.  Those first four years in Ethiopia have formed this child and made her who she is now.  And it cries out to me of her Maker.  Did anyone ever wonder why I call her "Gracie" here?  She is truly a picture of God's grace to me.  God has carried her through poverty and hunger and loss and grief, and He has protected her and drenched her with His grace.  She is a joyful, cheerful, funny bundle of little girl.  Having experienced losses and hardships I can hardly imagine, she is not bitter or angry of afraid.  She spent 6 months in an orphanage which, by many reports, was rife with abuses, and seems to have been surrounded by angels there.  She accepted the new family God gave her with hardly a glance backward...with a joyful abandon that has continued to stun and amaze me.  I have so much to learn from her.  Oh God, if I could face trials without being afraid, or without ever holding onto bitterness.  If I could let go of what You take, and latch on to what You give, and be truly thankful and joyful throughout it all.  

So I am sitting here now and relishing the knowledge of the amazing grace that God has lavished on my daughter and on me.  Our family is memorizing Psalm 139 right now (we're only up to verse 4 so far!), and really I chose it for Gracie and Little Man.  I know she doesn't understand a lot of those words, but she is parroting them back right along with her older sisters and brother.  And I'm praying that some day these words will be as meaningful to her as they are to me when I consider God's path for her life:

For you formed my inward parts;

You wove me in my mother's womb.

I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Wonderful are Your works,

And my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from You,

When I was made in secret,

And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;

Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;

And in Your book were all written

The days that were ordained for me

When as yet there was not one of them.

Happy birthday Gracie. 

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.

Reality Check

Well, this should be an interesting post.  If any of you find blogs somewhat annoying because it seems they show a skewed picture of people's lives (leaving out the messy, unflattering parts), maybe you'll like this.  I wrote the first part on Saturday.  Didn't finish it because we got the kids up and I just didn't get back to it all weekend.  It was Tiger's birthday Sunday (maybe I'll post more about that later) and the weekend was really busy.  At any rate, I am just now getting back to this, but I knew before I even opened my laptop that I couldn't really finish the post as I had started it.  Here's what I wrote on Saturday morning:

I got up this morning at 6:30.  I know, I know...it's an hour late.  But it is Saturday.  I'm working on it.  Anyway, I got up with something on my heart.  It felt like a rock.  I came downstairs and saw Jim reading in the living room.  I got my coffee and sat down.  I tried to keep it to myself, taking sips of coffee and picking up something to read.  But then I just blurted it out.  "I miss Africa.  I wish we were in Africa.  I wish we could just get on a plane."  I was close to tears...my longing was that great. 

My wonderful husband did not skip a beat.  He looked at me and told me that what I'm longing for isn't Africa.  It's God.  It's deeper intimacy and knowledge and closeness with Him.  He's right.  We talked for a long time about Africa and about what God is doing in our hearts and in our family.  Really, Jim feels the same way I do about Africa, and he dreams of being there too.  Somehow, God had a plan to rescue Gracie and Little Man by bringing them out of Africa, but somehow He had a plan to rescue Jim and I by taking us into Africa...and beyond.  We are changed.  We talked about things that have changed in our family since we got home from Africa.  Our appetites have changed.  We don't watch TV anymore.  We hadn't had cable in a long time, but we unplugged the little black box that allowed us to receive a few channels.  We changed what we eat.  The children all decided one day that we should eat oatmeal for breakfast every day and peanut butter sandwiches for lunch every day in order to save some money to help people who truly have nothing to eat.  (We've kept this up for about a month now.)

I was seeing fruit from the change in our routine.  Getting up early was giving me more time with God, sweet fellowship with my husband, and allowing us to start the day together as a family and in the Word.  I was excited and longing for more.  Fast forward a few days.  The lack of sleep is still catching up to me (thought I would've caught up to IT by now).   I have struggled with insomnia for years, and often my best sleep is between 4 and 7 in the morning, so getting up at 5:30 has wreaked havoc with my normal sleep habits.  I'm still trying to go to bed earlier, but it still hasn't kicked in.  This week I have just felt defeated.  I've been irritable with the kids, and even with Jim.  I fussed at him yesterday for coming home from work and reading the newspaper when I wanted him to be helping me.  And I despised myself because I wanted to be the kind of wife who had everything all under control, and who could maintain a peaceful home and a smiling countenance so that my husband could feel free to relax with the newspaper a bit when he gets home from work.  So, I got up this morning (5:45; close but not quite my goal) feeling deeply discouraged.  This time, I sat next to Jim and again tried to keep my feelings to myself.  Again I was near tears.  Sipped my coffee.  Sighed rather loudly so that Jim would ask me what was wrong (which he did).  So I told him.  "I can't stand myself.  I just can't get it right.  All I am trying to do is to be pleasing to God; to be the kind of wife and mother that He wants me to be.  And I can't even get up early and be a good mom."  (I whined some more and cried a little, but that's the gist of it.)  Again, he came back with wise words.  He pointed out that I was focused on what "I" could do rather than what God could do.  That there's no way "I" can do any of it right without Him.  He reminded me of all that God is doing in our family, and that Satan hates it.  That we should expect to be under attack, and not expect an easy road.

He's right, of course.  And right after he said all of that he went upstairs (it was 7am) and played "Reveille" on Tiger's trumpet, as that's how he's been rousing the kids to get up in the morning for family worship.  The kids stumbled down, we heard the Word, we sang.  We actually danced around the kitchen singing with Keith Green.  (Okay, we're freaks).  It feels better.  But I know that it's not going to feel better later in the day when the coffee wears off and the day starts to wear on me.  At that point, I'll go back and read this:

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 8:38-39

I'm going to read those words, and then I'm going to substitute some of my own (thanks to Beth Moore for that idea):  I am convinced that neither lack of sleep, or my own failings and weaknesses and junk, or the busyness of my day, or the messiness of my house (etc., etc., etc.) can ever separate me from the love of God in Christ.  Amen.

And I'm going to keep praying for sweet sleep, and I'm going to try to keep obeying even if it doesn't feel good.  But I'm going to remember that I can't do it.  But He can.

Oh, and I also will add this one more detail purely for your entertainment.  At the end of our conversation this morning, after exhorting me to trust God, etc., Jim also said one more thing (in answer to my feelings of discouragement and defeat):  "Stop it.  Stop it or I'll bury you alive in a box."  And that dubious statement was a sort of inside joke in our marriage, referring to this hilarious video we saw a few years ago.  Here it is:



There you go.  A little up, and little down, and a little funny.  That's the way my life is going.  Not so bad, really.  :)

The 5:30 Club

I've set a new goal for myself this week; actually Jim and I both have.  We made a new schedule for our family, and it includes waking up all of the children just before 7am so that we can start our day with Jim leading family devotions before he leaves for work.  Our normal "family worship time" is in the evening, but we really wanted to start our day off with at least a short time of being in the Word and in prayer together.  In order to do this, though (and have time for everything else that needs to happen in my morning), I need to be up at...(gulp) 5:30am.  I'm sure some of you just don't think this is a big deal, but it is quite a challenge for me.  It's been 5 days now, and it's catching up to me.  By 3:00 in the afternoon I am dragging.  But I'm convinced that God wants this, so I'm going to push through.  My plan is to try to get up pretty early even on Saturday and Sunday so that my body keeps adjusting to this new insult accomplishment.  We'll see how it goes.

At any rate, the 90 minutes I have between my wake up time and waking up the children allows me to have a more extended time with the Lord, as well as some conversation with Jim.  And finally, if there's time, I can be on the computer.  I have to say that so far this weeks the results of this new plan have been mixed.  Though I'm excited to be up and in the Word, the family devotion time is precious, and it feels good to be ready to start the day by 7:30, I have also been feeling a little down and grumpy as the result of not getting enough sleep  (the fact that I'm getting up at 5:30 doesn't seem to be kicking in to my nightime brain, and I can't seem to fall asleep early enough).  I was needing a little encouragement, and this morning I found the following post, which I hope might enourage you as well:

 http://hishandshisfeettoday.blogspot.com/2010/07/on-mothering-making-disciples.html

It's really nothing new, but just what I needed to hear this morning.  So I'm starting my day off eager and motivated.  But...it's only 7:30.  We'll see how it goes!

If any of you are up at 5:30, please let me know.  I'd love to think I have some company (and honestly I could use the accountability!  NOT that I want anyone checking on me at that hour of the day.  But you could always ask me later...)

:)

You did a bad job...and I love you.

I am longing for Gracie to have a sense of security in our family.  She seems happy.  She is generally just a ball of bubbly, giggly enthusiasm.  She wants to try everything and is sure she can do it "by myself."  She is cuddly and affectionate, and just can't get enough kisses and hugs.  But I still just have a sense that she does not have a sense of permanency here.  She has a strong drive to perform well.  She constantly asks if she's doing a good job, whether she's eating her dinner, coloring a picture, making her bed, or doing a silly dance.  If any of her siblings have displeased us, she needs to know if they have done a "bad job,"  and then needs to hear that she, indeed, is doing a "good job."  For several weeks the language she used was "good girl/bad girl" and "good boy/bad boy."  She wanted everyone labeled this way, and frequently wanted to know that she was a "good girl."  We were finally able to discourage this labelling (she would even label inanimate objects as good or bad:  a book was a "bad boy" if it fell on my foot!), but we still haven't diminished the approval seeking.  Honestly, there's very little she ever says or does that would be categorized as a "bad job" even if we wanted to do so, but sometimes I wish there was.  I wonder if she feels safe enough to scream or rage or tantrum.  If I'd been through all that she has in the last two years, I think I would throw a tantrum or two.  I love her so much.  And we just keep telling her we love her.  And she just keeps working and working to earn the love that she already has.  (Sound familiar?)  This might sound crazy, but lately I've taken to finding opportunities to let her know that she's not doing a very good job.  For instance, she's a horribly messy eater.  She's very aware of it, and makes sure I notice that she cleans up after herself if she makes a mess.  So I take the opportunity to tell her that she's not doing a very good job eating neatly.  I say it with a smile and a wink.  Sometimes she smiles back and asks if she's eating like a little piggy, and I laugh and say yes.  I tell her that she's not doing a very good job eating neatly, and that I love her.  I point out all of the crumbs on the table, chair, floor (and sometime on the dog who has taken to sitting under her seat), and I tell her she's really messy.  And that I love her.  I almost wish sometimes that she would completely let loose and scream and cry and bite and hit and kick.  So that I could gather her up in my arms and tell her that I love her, and that I will always love her, and that it doesn't matter what she ever does, she is going to be my little girl forever. Then maybe she would know and trust in her heart that it's true.  That she doesn't need to earn her place in this family, and that she will never lose it.

Isn't that what we all need to hear?  And isn't it what God wants us to hear?  I hesitate to draw this parallel, because I am so far from a perfect mother.  Let's just be honest; I'm going to fail her.  I'm going to get annoyed and impatient and...well...I'm going to sin against her (I already have).  But she and I both have a Father who will love us perfectly.  We don't have to earn it.  In fact, there's absolutely no way we ever could.  She and I are going to do a "bad job" on some level every single day, and He's going to just love us. I want her to know that love.  I'm longing for her to know it from me; to feel safe in my arms.  But ultimately I want her to know it from Him.  So I'll keep letting her know...very gently...that sometimes she does a bad job.  But I love her.  And I'll keep trying to soak up that same lesson for myself while I'm at it.

What a Difference a Year Makes

Today we went to pick berries.  It's a family tradition that we haven't missed in years.  Usually we pick blueberries.  We all love blueberries, and we try to pick enough to freeze some, but inevitably we end up eating most of them before they make it to the freezer.  Last year (actually tomorrow it will be exactly one year ago), we went to the same berry patch we visited today.  It was a beautiful Thursday afternoon (just like today), but the mood was quite different.  On "berry day" last year, we had just received a letter from the Department of Homeland Security informing us that they would not yet approve our application for adoption.  I think I remember crying (Jim's pretty sure I did, but he says I cried a lot that during that stage of our adoption!)  I wrote a post about that day here, in which I described the berry picking as cheap therapy, and I really needed it. 

Today was a different kind of day.  Unfortunately we pretty much missed blueberry season, but the raspberries were abundant.  And, of course, we're no longer waiting on anyone's immigration approval, or frazzled from filling out paperwork.  But even better, I can now look back on the past year and remember story after story of God's abundant faithfulness along the way.  I can look back and see that on the worst days, when I cried and felt overwhelmed and uncertain, God was not only paving the road home for Gracie and Little Man, He was also refining me and showing me His heart. 

So today we picked berries.  Lots and lots of raspberries.  Jim doesn't even like raspberries, and they're highly perishable, so I guess I'll be freezing most of them for smoothies.  (If anyone reading this has any great raspberry recipes, please pass them along!)  But it was a beautiful day.  I wasn't needing any therapy, but I was soaking in the joy of watching my family giggle and sweat in the late afternoon sunshine.  Hearing Little Man give raspberries the name "yummies" as he begged Sweet Pea for more.  Seeing Sunshine and Boo schooling Gracie on the finer points of berry picking.  None of us really cared about the raspberries, but none of us wanted to leave, so we kept picking. 

Here's a picture of our berry picking day last year:

And here's the picture from today:

 

I sought the Lord and He answered me;

He delivered me from all my fears.

Taste and see that the Lord is good;

blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him.

Psalm 34: 4, 8

Am I PREGNANT?!

I was asked that question three times last weekend.  (Got your attention, didn't I?!)  The first time, I was in a doctor's office on Friday morning.  The doctor was considering prescribing an antibiotic for a presumed infection, so he asked me the obligatory question about possible pregnancy.  The appointment was a last minute thing, so all six children were with me.  Yoseph was on my lap, crying and smelling suspicious.  Mihret, Boo, and Sunshine were all either pulling toys out of the toybox on the floor, or zooming around the very small room with said toys (sorry if it appalls anyone that I let them play with those toys; it's a survival technique), and Sweet Pea and Tiger were trying to read despite the noisy atmosphere.  I'm not confident that this particular Doctor is very understanding of some of our family's choices, so when he asked the question, I just looked around the room, looked back at him for a long moment, and murmured, "no."

The second time, I was in the emergency room later that same night.  Nope, it wasn't an infection after all.  It was a kidney stone.  Ever had one?  Let me tell you how it feels.  Well...hmmmm....it was like...  Okay I don't have a vocabulary of awful enough words to describe the pain.   Jim had to put all six kids in our enormous bus of a van and haul us all to the ER.  A couple of hours later I was wheeled into a room for a CT scan, and again, the question.  (Again, obligatory since I was about to subject my body to harmful rays).  This time I just moaned, "noooooooooooo."  (I would've said anything to get that scan done and get some more drugs.)

It was the third time that got to me.  Sometime Saturday morning (in somewhat of a drug-induced stupor, as I was still dealing with the kidney stone), I had a quiet moment with Tiger.  The night before (watching me writhing in pain, driving frantically to the ER where I threw up repeatedly in the waiting room, and then going home to bed while I stayed at the hospital) had been a bit traumatic for the children.  I asked Tiger if he had been scared.  I was surprised when he said no.  (I was scared!)  But I was more surprised at what he said next.  "I was hoping you were having a baby."  (Okay, he didn't exactly ask me if I were pregnant, but it's close enough).  This time I was stunned.  I was caught off guard.  I was feeling quite vulnerable.  And as a result I was able to really feel what I hadn't felt the first two times I heard the question. I felt a little sad.  I think he knew that I couldn't really be having a baby.  But on some level I think he let himself hope.  Maybe just because it was a better option than whatever else he might have imagined might be wrong with me.  But at least partly because he loves babies.  He loves having a "big family."  I love that kid.  Sunshine came in and admitted that she had hoped the same thing (they both might need to learn a bit about gestation; I'm not being vain, but I do NOT look pregnant!)  Sweet, sweet children.  I've thought a lot about those comments over the last couple of days.  And I know that (as far as I can discern) there are no more pregnancies in my future.  I've worked through that a lot, just between me and my Father.  But what I really, really realized as I thought about Tiger's comment was that children are a blessing from the Lord.  Oh, you've heard that before?  I know, I have too.  I've read it, I've said it, I've thought I believed it.  But let me just tell you that the last six weeks have been HARD.  There's a good reason why I haven't posted on this blog since the day we got home!  I'll go into all of that another time, but for now let me just say that children are a blessing.  All of them.  All the time.  Because God said so.  I am blessed beyond belief by these six, and I was so glad to know, when my heart responded to Tiger's comment, that I really believe what God said.  Oh, how I am blessed.  Although I truly don't wish I were pregnant, I savored the bittersweet feeling of sadness for a moment because I was glad I could recognize the gift it would be if I were.  I am so glad that we stepped out and walked where God led us.  And how I hope we never miss an opportunity to do so.  Yes, it's been hard, but I would do it again in a heartbeat.   And it thrills me to know that Tiger sees the blessing too, and yearns for more.  More of God.  And yes, even more children.  (I wonder how many grandchildren I might have one day?)  YES, Lord.  Right now Yosie is sound asleep; cuddled up with Tiger in his bottom bunk.  And Mihret is in her bed with Sunshine's favorite stuffed animal tucked in beside her. We are not the same family.  And yes, it's still hard.  It's easy to write sweet platitudes while the house is quiet and everyone but me is sleeping. But...we're not the same family.  And I'm thankful.

(One more thing; I cannot tell the whole "kidney stone" story publicly without thanking my precious friend who sat in the ER with me for hours so that Jim could take the kids home to bed.  God has blessed me immensely through you again and again.  Thank you seems inadequate, but...well, you know!) 

I think that was a bit "rambly", but hey...I haven't written anything in 6 weeks!  I'll leave you with a picture we took on Easter Sunday.  In Ethiopia, one wears traditional clothing on Holy days.  Nothing makes a white kid look whiter than standing next to an Ethiopian and wearing African clothing, huh?  But seriously, aren't they all so beautiful?

Blessings!

Because I am His

The other day I was telling  a friend that I used to wonder whether I would think our adopted children were "cute."  I know that probably sounds awfully shallow, but if you're a mother you know that your own children are always beautiful to you.  Our four "biological" children may not be the most beautiful children in the world to everyone else, but they are to me.  From the first moment I saw those wrinkly little faces as they emerged from birth, I was rapt.  They were, and still are, perfect to me.  And so I wondered, would I have this same unreasonable pleasure in gazing at the faces of the children God brought to our family through adoption, or was this a response that was somehow born through the process of biology and birth?  Well, now I know.  We frequently receive pictures of Yoseph and Mihret from the care center where they are living.  And they are, of course, the most beautiful children there.  (To me!)  My eyes are instantly drawn to them in a picture of a dozen other children.    I love them , and I delight in them. Because they are mine. 

And as I've been pondering this, God has kept showing me a deeper truth. Recently I was laying in bed wondering how God can look at me with any favor when I am so unlovable.  Being in a stressful, busy time definitely puts me in a position of being very aware of my sinful nature.  To paraphrase Paul, why do I do the things I don't want to do (get impatient, stressed, and out of sorts, fail to sit at the feet of my Lord), and I can't do the things I want to do (be patient, loving, kind, faithful)?  I have been feeling sometimes far from God, and often failing Him.  And I was struck with the truth that He doesn't, of course, love me because there's anything worthy about me.  He loves me because I am His.  Because He has adopted me into His family, I am beautiful to Him.  Because of Christ's death and resurrection, I am a sister and daughter in His family. He sees me as His own. Yes, of course I've known this before.  But now...I get it.

I think Mihret and Yoseph have already taught me more than I will ever be able to teach them.

To add to the last post...

Read this:  Special Hope Network: "How Lovely is His Dwelling Place".  This is the website of precious friends who are truly giving up everything to move to Africa and care for orphans with special needs.  We love them so much, and will selfishly grieve when they leave in April.  They are really much more than friends; they have filled the roles of friends, counselors, and pastor, as well as being just tons of fun.  This post, though, is not tons of fun to read.  It is, however, piercing.  Because it's the truth.  Do you want to hear it?