30 days.

30 days.

That's how long we've shared our time together with our newest little girl.

I'm thinking about the 30 days prior to these last 30 days and the 30 days prior to those last 30 days...I'm thinking about how strange it is that sets upon sets of 30 days can go by, and our lives remain the same.  Then suddenly 30 days can go by and our lives are forever drastically changed.  Even more thought provoking is the fact that as prepared or planned out my weeks and days and months even years may be- I never know the impact 30 days will have on me. 

The thoughts are scattered, the life lessons still aren't totally clear, and some of the reality isn't quite as real as maybe it will be.  Nonetheless there are some things we are chewing on.  Good things, bad things, sin things, flesh things, practical things, God things.

We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ-  2 Corinthians 10:5

This little girl has brought to the surface a problem both Kenney and I have.  We are NOT taking our thoughts captive and forcing them to be obedient to Christ.  We've just let our thoughts be our thoughts.  They come in and maybe we don't act upon them, but, we've given them a home and a place to stay, and even three good meals a day- all regardless of their allegiance.  Thoughts. They seem so innocent, so harmless, we say things like "we're human" "we're sinners" "this is all normal and a part of living in a fallen world" but, do we EVER say things like "hey, somebody lock those thoughts up and don't let them out until they have conformed to what Christ would have me think."

Captive.  What a simple word with such a simple meaning.  To confine or imprison.

What happens when we don't take our thoughts captive?  What happens when our thoughts have free reign?

It was two am in the morning and three in the afternoon in China.  Thoughts are running wild and spilling out of our mouths through the miracle of wireless phone calls. What if she never talks?  What if she never walks?  She is the only little girl that is handicapped out of the 80 other people doing medicals- why do all these other people have it "easier"?  What if we never have alone time again?  I can't do this.  We can't do this.  What have we done.  What about our other kids?  We'll never vacation again.  We can't afford two power chairs and adaptive aids and therapy tools.  What if all of our time is spent with Speech Therapy, and OT and PT and doctor appointments?  Our lives are already so busy and so full, we can't possibly make it any more full and stay afloat.  What about us?  What about our marriage?  What if it's never just "us" again?  What if we are cutting food and wiping mouths and changing diapers until we die?  We had dreams ya know- dreams full of just Kenney and I, just him and I and coffee shops and quaint restaurants, beaches and Zombie Dust (that would be our island beer) dreams of quiet mornings, spontaneous living, and weekend getaways.  What if this is what our lives are like forever...

I'd like to say this was just one conversation.  I'd like to say we talked about it and worked it out.  We didn't.  We've spent HOURS upon HOURS of conversations like this in the last 30 days.

So we tried to fix it all.... tried to make it all get better and go away.  We knew things were broken, and so we tried to fix it. 

1. The Comparison Game
This one is a favorite of ours.  It's seems to be the go to remedy in our fix-it tool box.  And just like basic screwdrivers, there are two go-to favorites -the Phillips head and the flat head.  The Phillips head approach- compare our lives with people who have it seemingly better than us.  So we looked around at the people we knew that didn't have any kids with disabilities.  We looked around at the people that have booming college funds and big houses and separate rooms for their kids.  We looked around at the people going on family vacations - rock climbing, white water rafting, swimming, and hiking.  And we sank even further.  We found our lives to be ugly and not fun.  Suddenly everything was bad.  The house- bad.  The cars- bad.  Our kids-all bad.  Heck- we even looked at our wedding pictures and decided those weren't very good either, especially since someone else had better ones than us.  The pity party comparison /Phillips head screwdriver approach failed us miserably.  Because all it did was make us even more miserable.  Clearly the problem must have been who and what we compared our lives to- so we moved on to the flat head screwdriver approach.  Compare our lives with others who have it worse than us.  So we compared ourselves to the parents who have lost their children in this world.  The pain didn't go away.  Suddenly we were overwhelmed with guilt and how insensitive we must be.  We thought thoughts like "We should be thankful our children are here with us right now."  "We should be thankful that we are not in and out of hospitals, thankful our children can eat and chew and swallow and smile and communicate with us, thankful they are happy, thankful they are not in pain...."  Funny thing is, we were thankful for all those things, but it still felt like our arm was on fire, and while we were thankful our house wasn't on fire, mostly, we were still a bit concerned about the arm that IS on fire.  Problem is, pain is pain, and hurt is hurt, and sin is sin, and being thankful doesn't make sin go away.  ONLY God takes away sin. 

2.  The Convincible Ally
Find someone, in particular someone who doesn't exactly know you well.  Someone who might not want to offend you.  Someone who probably really doesn't care, but key is, you have to be able to act like they know you well and care tons.  A co-worker, or friend in your yoga class, maybe the cleaning lady, or hair-dresser.  So we tell them our story (clearly leaving out any details that might make us seem like the bad guys.)  We use words that make us sound like the hero of the story "We're really thankful she can get the therapy here she needs, but isn't it so sad that she can't walk?" Guess what the natural response is?  Someone gushing over us, telling us how awesome of parents we must be, telling us we deserve so much more, the praise pours over us and we bask in the accomplishment.  Not only did we get someone to side with us and totally agree with our point of view, we became saints in the process.  Then we went home.  Then we talked with each other again.  Kenney doesn't think I'm a saint, as a matter of fact, he has first hand knowledge that I am not.  And, while Kenney was calling me out, he probably used an expletive of some sort... no saint there either.  Spouses have a way of bringing the truth to the surface.  Spouses destroy the self-praise bandwagon. 

3.  Just Go With It
Our last ditch effort- just let the feelings guide us.  Fear and worry- just go with it.  Who cares if we go to bed scared and crying.  Who cares if we wake up cursing the day.  What does it matter if we're happy and friendly.    Praise God for the Holy Spirit!  Praise God for Grace!  One of Tommy's first Sunday School lessons resonated through our heads- Why were we created?  To bring God glory.  These feelings were not bringing God glory.

Lastly (which should have been the first- again- Praise God for his infinite Grace)
We prayed together.  Laying in bed, our eyes were closed and Kenney prayed.  I don't even know the words he used.  I don't remember anything, other than surrender.  Giving it all to God.  No more fixing it.  No more comparison games or going with it, or pity parties- everything was surrendered.  Every thought, every feeling, every worry, all put at the foot of the cross.  Together we surrendered.

and take every thought captive to obey Christ-  2 Corinthians 10:5 

We're moving on.  We're taking those thoughts captive, and surrendering them, handing them over to Christ.  After all, we are powerless to make our thoughts obey Christ, it is only CHRIST himself that can change us, and change our thoughts.  We're changing, we're growing and we're learning new things together. In 30 days, our little Charlotte has changed our lives forever.  Our prayer is that she changes our lives, our marriage, and our parenting to reflect more and more of Christ, and less and less of ourselves.  We pray she brings Him glory.  We pray she helps us, together, through our parenting and our marriage- bring Him glory. 

Practically speaking, this article was AWESOME!  Really gave Kenney and I a much needed perspective.  To summarize:  Don't believe everything you think; The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? (Jeremiah 17:9) Fill your minds with the right things; I will not set before my eyes anything that is worthless. (Psalm 101:3) Don't stop learning; Wise men store up knowledge . . . (Proverbs 10:14), Those who get wisdom do themselves a favor, and those who love learning will succeed. (Proverbs 19:8), “My people are destroyed from lack of knowledge.” (Hosea 4:6) Feed yourself on God's word.

Hindsight is 20/20.  I can look back on the last couple of weeks and see some of the areas we failed prior to our meltdowns.  We believed our thoughts.  We filled our minds with worthless and useless things, instead of God's word.  We didn't store up the truths we'd already learned.  I could go on and on.... I'll say it again, PRAISE GOD FOR HIS GRACE! 

 

"Leave No One Behind"

posted by Kenney

I have the privilege of being the son of a US Army Veteran that served in the Vietnam era.  The brother in law to both an Army and Marine soldier.  The grandson of an Army soldier.  The nephew of a Marine, Navy, and Army servicemen and friend of many who have served.  One thing that has always stuck with me each time I hear it in speeches or movies is how our military "leaves no one behind."

When I examine what that means in my civilian life and how I can apply that honorable "code" of living in Northwest Indiana - where there are corn fields all around us and the closest military action I ever will see is sand bagging around my house to deal with floods- I've decided this is as close as it's gonna get.

Rewind-

When we started the Chinese adoption process nearly two years ago, we were given "access" to a database of some of the waiting children.  Each child on the list was given a pseudo name in English for child protection and easy identification.

Laura and I have always adored the name "Charlotte."  In our history, we talked about naming a little girl by that name.  If Tommy was a girl, that's the name we were going to use. Then Noah came along, and obviously was not a Charlotte. Then Audrey, who at the time it felt right to name her Audrey as a namesake to her Grandmother "Nanny" and my Aunt Audrey.  Two women of impeccable character and women we looked up to.  Caleb, obviously not a Charlotte, and Isabell, who again, Charlotte just didn't fit.  In fact Laura has told her sisters that if any of them ever have little girls, the name "Charlotte" is off the table for them.  Period.  She means business.  Don't go there. (You gotta know Laura to get the seriousness of this statement. Seriously)


Back to the database of waiting children.

There was a girl on the database with the name "Charlotte."  We found out her Chinese name was Yawen.  A little girl with a cute round face, full of life eyes, and a diagnosis of Cerebral Palsy. Of course Laura gravitated to her file and requested information on her (this was before we had even looked at the files of our Isabell and Caleb) however she was not available at the time, some other family somewhere had her file and was possibly adopting her.  Since her file was not available, Laura prayed for her.  She prayed that a family would care for this little "Charlotte" and prayed for her to find a forever family.  We continued to look at children on the waiting list and eventually found our Isabell and Caleb, locked in their files and proceeded to bring them home to be a part of our family.


Fast forward 1 year.  

Laura and I are in China for a week at this point.  We have our Caleb and we are now in Guiyang, China picking up Isabell.  We arrived in a small office in a part of China that MAYBE has two-four adoptions a year.  We are chatting with Isabell's foster family.

Here is where the story starts to connect.

Through all the questions we had for the foster family we find out that Isabell has a foster sister that lives with them too and she's available for adoption.  Her foster sister's name... Yawen.

Knowing Yawen was Isabell's foster sister and the odds of 2000+ children on the waiting list in a country with over a million orphans, knowing these two girls were actually living together in a remote part of the country. Knowing they grew up together. Knowing all of this, well,  Laura knew one thing.....God was moving.

I on the other hand did not feel the movement. In fact, any form of "movement" I was feeling I chalked it up to indigestion and jet lag. Once we got back to Indiana, I suppressed any knowledge of that feeling, I hid deep in the recesses of my heart what I knew. I denied what my own heart knew. I was overwhelmed on many fronts; knowing we now had five children - five and under, some with special needs, some with a misdiagnosis that was way more complicated and difficult than what I had planned. Knowing this information, put much fear and much trepidation in my heart.  How would I continue to lead our family? How could I provide for all of our children in each of their unique needs? All I could think about was our small-mustard colored house that we lived in that needed repair and remodeling for a, gulp, wheelchair.  I would wake up at night scared not knowing what lies ahead for us.  All I could think about was the unique needs each of our children seemed to have and  I as the leader of my household had no idea how to guide them or direct them or help them. I felt that I was not leading very well at all, so to add more to lead was surely a bad idea if I couldn't even manage these five. It was all about what I felt was best.  All about what I wanted.  All about what I knew I needed to control.

I went into a season of "enough".  I reached my "enough".  Circle the wagons, it was time for internal focus on what I was living for.  By July of last year, Laura had brought up to me several times "Charlotte" and it broke her heart.  Weeping like I never saw, she would stand before me saying her heart breaks that Isabell's sister is there and we can't bring her home.  She just cried over and over again, that she felt like there was just to many "miracles" that this was our Charlotte.  I would just think to myself, someone else can handle that. I can't handle another little girl, let alone another little girl with Cerebral Palsy.

I would just look at her with a cold stare and even colder heart.  Refusing to see the hurt in my wife, refusing to help her deal with this, refusing to partner with my partner....I didn't just build a hedge....I built a wall stronger than Fort Knox.  Discussions on the topic of "Charlotte" turned into arguments and then to fights.  I refused to listen to Laura, or even talk with her about it-  I kept my wagons circled.  I failed Laura as a husband during this time.  One Saturday afternoon; it got bad.  Really really bad.  

Laura and I argued for the morning and into afternoon and to make a long story short, her parents got involved in our "conversations."  Her dad took me out for a drink to have a "guy to guy" talk.  I explained to him about "Charlotte" and the story, except the story was my story, and only a half truth of a story- and after the conversation He agreed we should be on the same page, because based on what I told him (the lie that God wasn't calling me) we weren't on the same page.  I won that battle; for whatever worth that was. We came back and shared I had told Laura's dad about Charlotte.  When Laura heard I told her dad about Charlotte, and told him a story that wasn't all true she knew the "conversations" were over.  I watched a piece of my wife die that day, and I knew it.

We didn't talk about "Charlotte" anymore.  I didn't pray for her anymore, I didn't pray about what God's will for my life was. I felt like I won.  I felt it was time to really begin living my life.  After all I had done enough.

I didn't speak about this to anyone.  I didn't tell my accountability partners. I didn't share about what had happened with any of my Christian friends.  I knew I was a "fake" Christian.  I knew I wasn't being honest with anyone.  I knew what God wanted of me, though.  I just knew it.

...and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.  When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. Matthew 10: 3b-4

Then one day I remember praying.  I remember being on my knees.  I remember opening my hands and asking God what he wanted of me.  It clicked.  My eyes became open through the Spirit that I was being called to pray for "Charlotte" again.  This started slowly.  I prayed for a good month or two.  Then one day I remember being on the phone with Laura and the words just slipped out, "we need to go back and bring her sister home."

So, Laura and I talked about it with each other. We can't bring every orphan home. We don't know what the future brings. We had no idea how all the details were going to work out or if they were even going to work out. We might be making a huge mistake.  This may be one of the most difficult things we do.  This may be a bigger challenge than we can even imagine. But one thing for sure, it has taught me than living with open hands is the best way to live. Letting God use me, however he pleases is the place to be.  Putting the focus on what God wants instead of what I want is where peace and comfort are found.

This means six children ages six and under.

So with that, China is in our destination again.  In fact, I leave tomorrow to go back to bring "Charlotte" home and forever be our Charlotte.

I can now look back and see some of the ways God moved.  In the very beginning, in something as simple as a name planted in our hearts. In meeting her foster parents, In bringing Isabell home first, In the therapists we have, in the time we've spent getting used to heading to Shriners all the time, in the drawing me closer to Himself. 


We've decided to apply the motto "Leave No One Behind" and not leave our little Charlotte an orphan any longer.

 





 

We too, Choose Life

I was barely up, eyes barely open as the sun was not even nearly up-  "She didn't make it through the procedure."

And my mind knew what my heart felt. 

On February 29, 2012, this sweet little girl sat in my lap, while I listened to her sing "Jesus Loves Me" in Chinese.  In a home for orphans in China, while we were picking up our son Fengfeng (Caleb) this little girl sat with no mommy or daddy and with extreme medical conditions. 

From that day forward I have had the privilege of watching a family choose life.  Her life.

Their story is long and complicated.  It is full of twists and turns.  Full of setbacks and problems.  From the beginning, pain and suffering were commonplace in this story.  I watched every plot twist unfold and have had the privilege to first hand witness the orchestrating of God's mighty hand in their lives.  The family chose life.  At all costs.  The financial burdens, the paperwork, the stress, the hours and hours on their knees in prayer, the questions, the hard answers, the extra work, the extra time, the extra everything it required of them to make that decision. They even chose more life. That arm and leg and one quarter of head in the picture- that little boy is part of the story too.  They chose his life as well.

Last night, that little girl, Zoe, had Jesus call her home.  In the midst of a complicated and trying surgical procedure, all the medical intervention couldn't sustain her life here on earth, and Jesus chose to call her home. 

The pain and intense heartache I can't even begin to fathom.  The tears I've cried over this little girl are nothing compared to the mama who chose her life, to the family that fought for her life. 

Many thoughts flood my mind.  Almost every thought brings me to my knees and to tears.  May this little girl's life remind me why we live the way we live.  May her life remind me why we have the children we have.  Why we support the ministries we support.  May her life remind me, human life, is precious and to be celebrated and to be chosen.  Always.  Made in Christ's image each life is, and HE is always to be chosen, always to be celebrated, always to be praised.  Every single sacrifice, every financial burden, every amount of suffering is always worth it.  Life is always to be valued.

Zoe's mama chose life.
Zoe's daddy chose life.
Zoe's family chose life.

They penned these words to remember:  (click here to read the full post)

So how much is a life worth? Ask Jesus. He gave everything. This tiny bit I'm giving right now?!? It pales in comparison. I pray that I'll remember that when this day is done.


I pray for this family- that

"the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7

 

I pray that it may be true of me, that I choose life.  That this family chooses life.  No matter the cost, no matter the suffering, no matter the ridicule, no matter the culture, no matter the expense, even if it costs our own lives, I pray it to be true.

 

We choose life.

 

 

 

Am I a Mother?

It seems most fitting that on Mother's Day I personally define who I am.

I scan the pages of an old journal covered in teddy bears and pink ribbons and bows.  The words on the page are quite sobering.

September 9, 1990 (that makes me 10 years old)
" I know that nobody likes me, I wish that someone had."
"I want to be cool and have a friend."
"I wish I was good at sports like all the other kids."

23 years later and it's amazing how some thoughts still creep into the deep crevices of my heart. 

I've spent some time this week reflecting on Mother's Day and reading about the history of Mother's Day.  Most profoundly are two thoughts:  from a personal, reflective perspective Mother's Day forces us (me) into one of two categories- 1.  I am a good mom, and therefore deserve a gift, respect, a breakfast in bed, cards, flowers, etc, etc.  or 2. I fail as a mother, I can't get my act together, my children are heathens all condemned to hell, my house is a mess, I can't ever keep up with laundry or dishes or dust or anything!

It is in neither of those places I am comfortable.  To say I am a "good" mommy never bodes well with me.  As one of my favorite writers says- "I ain't no hallmark mother."  I know the truth.  I know how many times in today alone I raised my voice.  I know how many times I said the wrong words.  I didn't listen to the tender stories being told by my babies, I didn't rock away tears, I didn't speak of the gospel, I didn't play, I didn't teach, I wasn't a good mommy.

Yet, to name all my failures seems to send me into a downward spiral.  A frenzy of pain, guilt, shame, loathing and despair. 

And yet, I desperately want and desire to be a "good" mommy.  I want to be good at what I do.  I want the world to see me as a good mother.  Yet, I am not.  I can't.  No matter how early I awake.  No matter how hard I try.  No matter what I do.  I. Can't.  I. Fail.

How?  How do I, as a woman who spends nearly every waking hour of my life tending to little children , define myself in any other way than a mother?

And to be honest.  If I got a report card on my mothering abilities.  "F."

Big fat "F."

Oh the world might catch glimpses of me.  They might see me calm, or not raise my voice.  They may see me with all my children peering into a basket of newborn puppies, while we all giggle and laugh and relish the joy of new life.  Some may sit at our dinner table and listen to each of our children pray.  They might think they've been taught well.  They may see me hold a crying child and whisper words of comfort.  They might see a lot of me, but what no one sees is all of me.  The truth.

I told a child today they were a "snotty, crabby. whiney, brat, that no one wants to be around."
I rolled my eyes.
I punished out of anger.
I distanced myself from a child that doesn't want to love me.
I didn't listen.
I didn't kiss their skinned knees.
I thought more about my needs than anyone else's.
I didn't tell each and every one of them I loved them over and over again.
I chose myself over each of them.

If a mommy is who I am.  I fail.

To be even more honest.  I am exhausted.  I find "mommy-ing" exhausting.  The potty-training, the temper-tantrums, the learning disabilities, the handicaps, the anger, the tears, the crying, the late nights, the whining, the whining, the WHINING!!!!!

The performance.  The behavior of my kids at the grocery store I feel directly reflects me.  The behavior of my kids at Sunday school directly reflects on who I am.  If my children have manners.  If my children eat all their vegetables, if my children know their ABC's and their colors and their constant vs. vowels.... the performance of my children seems to directly reflect on me... on my skills as a mommy.

And it's all exhausting.  And on Mother's Day I'll wake up exhausted.

I'll feel like I am drowning.  My natural instinct in the words of another favorite author " it is natural to paddle harder and kick faster when you feel like you are drowning."

And I'll wake up tomorrow and feel like I am drowning.

My expectations.  What I expect a "good" mommy should look like, I won't be able to meet. My performance is clearly not that of a "good" mommy.  Tomorrow morning, just like every other morning, if I look on the performance of me as mother, I will see all that I didn't do, and all the areas I failed.  I will see what I wish I was, and see what I am not.  I will feel the burden to be something that I wish I was.  I will feel the burden because my very identity as a mommy is at stake.  I feel the burden because I am a prisoner of my own demands.

Luke 4: 16-19   When he came to the village of Nazareth, his boyhood home, he went as usual to the synagogue on the Sabbath and stood up to read the Scriptures.  The scroll of Isaiah the prophet was handed to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where this was written:

 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
    for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released,
    that the blind will see,
that the oppressed will be set free,
and that the time of the Lord’s favor has come

 

So, how do I celebrate Mother's Day then?

By realizing that Jesus came to set the captive free. (that's me)

Free from my own demands.
Free from the pressure of having to make it on my own.
Free from the burden to get it all right.
Free from the obligation to fix ourselves.
Free from the need to be right.
Free from the need to be rewarded.
Free from the need to be respected.
Free from the need to perform for my worth, identity, or value.

Jesus transferred HIS performance to me when He chose me as His daughter.

Jesus won for me by dying on the cross. 

Because Jesus won for me, I am free to loose.
Because Jesus was strong, I am free to be weak.
Because Jesus was someone, I am free to be no-one.
Because Jesus succeeded for me, I am free to fail.


The gospel liberatingly declares, that in Christ we already ARE a winner, strong, someone, and already successful.


Then who am I?

My identity is not in what I do, but in what Jesus has already done for me.

Before I am a wife, before I am a mother, I am a daughter.  A daughter of the King.

My life will no longer be judged on the performance of me as  mother (or wife, or friend, or sister or "_____")  My life will no longer be about what I do. My life will no longer be about what I do not do.  My life is about what Jesus has already done.

My life, my identity, has nothing to do with what I do, my identity has nothing to do with my past, my future, my strengths my weaknesses, how clean my house is, how good my dinners are, how much I weigh, my family background, my education or my performance as a mother but instead, my identity is firmly anchored in Jesus' accomplishments not mine. 

 

 On this mother's day I am free.  Free from what other's think of me, and free from what I think of myself.

My happiness will not be found in anything other than what Christ has already done for me.

May the JOY of what Christ has already done for each and every one of us be what motivates my heart today.

 

Jesus Came to Serve

The day starts, today for instance- wet beds and fussy kiddos.  Muddy dog paws and literally spilt milk.  Leaky faucets, no time for a shower.  Behavior issues and eating issues.  Running late for doctor appointments.  Crappy doctor appointments.  Screaming and tantruming kids- and the loneliness that comes from no one understanding. Runny noses and scraped knees.  More anger and more fear.  More pain in some of my children that wrecks me and ruins me and leaves me crying.  A husband home late and car repairs. A grocery list I didn't complete.  Dinner that never got made. Winter decorations still on my mantle.  More problems and more issues that run deeper and thicker than I could ever put on paper. 

I begin to feel lost again.  I feel like a failure.  I feel a mess and I want to hide from it all.  I don't know how to redeem the day and the messes.  I find myself longing for the things of this world.  A maid, a new job, kids that don't have handicaps and medical issues, a shower and makeup, and the spiral begins.  I am looking for my identity in places that it shouldn't be and I am upset when I can't find it there.

It's 8:30 at night and the kids need to get to bed.  Kenney and I stare at each other, and I see the brokenness he sees. It's the week of Easter.  Every single night we pray with our children.  We pray they see Jesus as glorious and holy.  We pray they believe and accept Jesus as their savior.  We pray they see themselves in need of a savior and we pray they see Jesus as their everything.  Yet, these littles, they look to us to see that, and when I look in the mirror, do I see Jesus?

So we gather in the middle of the kitchen floor.  In the last moments of the day I confess my sins.  I tell them all I love them.  That I yelled when I shouldn't and  I complained when I had so much to be thankful for. I used words that were not loving and I lived selfishly.  I tell them all I am sorry.  We talk about Jesus forgiving me of my sins, and how much I need, and my children all need a savior. 

I tell them mommy can't be a good mommy without Jesus.  Only Jesus can make me a good mommy, and only Jesus can make them good sons and daughters.  Because there is only one good and perfect man, and His name is Jesus.  I tell them, if we believe, we get Jesus- we get His good and perfect record as our own. We get grace. A couple of the older ones start to think about that. 

We didn't do a passover dinner, as much as in my mind I wished we could have.  (My mom came over and made us some Mexican tortillas) We didn't do Lenten devotions as I wished we would have.  We didn't do Easter crafts and empty tombs to celebrate His death and Resurrection.  We messed up a lot.

But tonight, we stopped everything rolled up each others pant legs and removed our socks and read together:

 

John 13:4-5 So he got up from the table, took off his robe, wrapped a towel around his waist, and poured water into a basin. Then he began to wash the disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel he had around him.

 

 

John 13:12-17 When he had washed their feet and put on his outer garments and resumed his place, he said to them, “Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am.  If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet.  For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.

Every last one of us washed each other's feet.  It was all I had in me to keep from crying the entire time.  Jesus came to serve.  And He served perfectly, without sin.  Washing each others feet made that so clear and obvious. 

The day has been redeemed.  All my failures, all of my sin, it's washed away.  I believe and claim the One Perfect Servant as my Savior.   The sorrow that seems to consume so much of our days, can still be met with rejoicing!  For in Christ, we have everything.  In Christ we are full of an infinite supply of everything we need.  In that fullness, at the end of the day, we can serve, and wash each others feet. We will go to sleep tonight resting in the knowledge of His grace, and the peace that it brings to our weary hearts.

  2 Corinthians 6: 3...10 In everything we do, we show that we are true ministers of God....as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything.

To tell the truth...

Five of them.

That's how many drafts of incomplete stories from just the last 30 days sit unpublished.

At the end of a day like today, what could I possibly write?

A dear friend, a much wiser and mature Christian friend told me (and I paraphrase) "Sometimes, if I told the truth, about what I felt and what I did, people would seriously be calling me, wondering about my faith, and questioning my sanity, and surely questioning my ability to be a wife, a mother, and a spiritual leader."

The truth is, I don't want to tell the truth.  I'm okay with telling some of the story, but honestly, I don't want anyone to know the whole truth.  I want to hide away the hurt, hide away the mistakes, the pain, the words, the drama, the big fat mess that my life really is.

I read a lot, and I think a lot.  I've been thinking about the Psalms.  Thinking about the different Psalms.  The ones about pain and hurt, the ones about happiness, about joy, about redemption and peace.  There are Psalms about anxiety, Psalms about love, discouragement, awe, delight and fear.  What a mix of emotions.  What emotional people we really are.  What an emotional person I really am. 

The truth is, I am a bunch of emotions.  To say today was only all about joy and that I was thankful and full, happy and in awe of the gifts and grace my Father bestows upon me would really be a lie.  Ask some of the people who witnessed the anger and frustration of my day.  And yet, today, the same day I received a letter in the mail from my grandma filled with words of happiness and history and pain and sorrow... an excerpt...

"You are a kind granddaughter, never to be forgotten...  Since my husband is deceased, he can't remember me...I remember the times we talked at night...Memories are great."

 

All of the thoughts that overflow.  And the irony is, my grandma has Alzheimer's and when I read the words, I wonder.... will she always remember me?  30-some years later does she miss her husband?  Is there still pain and loss?  I do remember the fun times shared with my grandma.  Doing puzzles, and eating fish-sticks,  really- great memories. Memories that DO make me happy.  How can it be?  All these feelings in just one card, a couple words on a page....

 

I do not know what the future holds.  I don't know exactly if these thoughts, so conflicting, will always rage war in my mind.  Today they do.

 

I fight battles with and for my children.  I think all parents fight battles for and with their children.  Some battles that I fight, I fight because some of my children have been adopted.  Not all parents who adopt fight these same battles.  Not all parents have children who struggle the same.  But some of my hardest battles are because my children come from a broken past.  I firmly believe the enemy, Satan, would love to claim the lives of my children, and from where he was sitting, my children, sitting in an orphanage, with no parents, little food, little clothing, no one to share with them the love of Jesus, no one to advocate on their behalf, no one.... I believe it had to look good, in Satan's favor.  I can't imagine he's happy they are here.  I can't imagine he's delighted that they hear about Jesus every day.  I can't imagine he's happy they have a mom and dad to forever love them, and forever point them to Jesus in any and every way possible.  I fight battles.  I grow weary. 

 

I fight and win battles with Christ.  We make progress. We fight to claim our children, as OURS, as orphans no more.  We fight to erase what they have been taught.  We fight to make them believe they are OURS.  We make progress, we make so much progress.  God is so gracious, so faithful, so beautiful and loving towards us.  We are in awe daily of how HE grows us, changes us, and changes and uses us and our children.

 

Yet, somehow, amidst all the joy, all the change, all the growth, hurt and defeat creep in.  I am amazed though, at what I have found to "kill" me the most.  It's the everyone else. 

 

There are two (okay three... after typing, I had to add another...oops...seriously...   I now have four.... I have a problem, admittedly I do)  practical conclusions that I have arrived at this evening. 

 

1.  Antarctica is cold. Africa is hot.  But... do the people in Africa have any understanding of being cold like the people (if there were ones) in Antarctica?  Do the people (if there were ones) in Antarctica have any understanding of being hot, like the people in Africa?  The point really is, there is something that I very much lack in understanding regarding the things, I have no experience with.  I do not know what it is like to be a widow.  I do not know what it is like to loose a parent.  I don't know what divorce is like.  I don't know about LOTS of things.  I have been hurt many times, too many times, by the ones I love, because I am in Antarctica, and they are in Africa.  Neither hot nor cold is any better or worse in theory.  Yet, because we have and deal with "issues" related to things some have not experienced, it seems a perfect breeding ground for things like anger, frustration, condemnation, and mostly judgement to pop up.

 

2.  I am just as guilty.  I have compassion so much for the new mom with a new baby that doesn't stop crying.  I want to love on the parents who have just arrived home with their newly adopted child.  I want to help the marriages that fight to be set apart from what the world deems as a "healthy marriage".  I have understanding and grace to extend to almost everyone who has experienced any experience that I have personally experienced.  That's it.  Single moms.... probably not on my radar.  Widows, cancer patients, divorcees.... I don't know about that... so I find myself lacking grace, lacking compassion, and surely saying words that hurt, words that cut, actions that at the end of the day, make those whom I've sinned against feel weary and defeated. 

 

3.  I fail to obey and conform to Christ's character.  I have put the recognition and acceptance of other's in the place of Jesus.  In other words, instead of looking to Christ to fill me, making me feel complete and accepted, I have put something else in His place.  I need the gospel.  Every. Single. Day.  It is only in going back to the gospel, going back to what Christ did for me on the cross, that I can be gripped by the reality of what He did for me and who I am in Him.  (awesome article on the subject, taken from here)

 

4.  I have to believe that God has delivered everything I need in the person and work of Jesus.  I have to believe that God's love is a one way love.  His love for me is unconditional.  In Christ, I have all the love, affection and worth I need, based on the person and work of Jesus. All that I tend to seek and need in less places (the acceptance and love of other, friends, family, etc) I have in Jesus.  In Christ, my deepest needs are met. I have found that when I am most resistant to love others, and serve others it is because I am afraid that I may not be loved or served back.  But, the gospel OBLITERATES that fear.  IN CHRIST MY DEEPEST NEEDS ARE MET.  That sets me free!

 

As the clock nears 1:30 am and my thoughts have gone full circle.  I rest in these thoughts.  Pain will happen, weakness will happen, insults, hardships, persecutions, difficulties.... they are all gonna happen.  People will hurt me, the ones I love will hurt me.  But, His grace - the gospel-  the finished work of Jesus on the cross is sufficient, is enough, is completely, 100% everything I need.  The more I focus on the cross, the more I see that a loving and perfect God, whom while I was still a sinner, died for me and wiped the slate clean, took away my sins, made me white as snow.... Redeemed me and has called me His daughter, the more I focus on that, the more He IS everything I need. 

 

 

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.  2 Corinthians 12:7-10

The Day After Christmas

For all of the December the 26th's I can remember, I in some way, have found myself crying. Some years a full out weeping with sobs a snotty nose and smeared mascara, and some years, just a small tear drop that slid down my cheek.

Sometimes, I cried because Christmas was over. Decorations were to come down.  Christmas break was almost over and school would be starting soon. No more Christmas cookies, no more Christmas music, no more holiday parties. Sometimes I cried because of my own sin- ways I "messed up" Christmas. Lies I told, people I hurt, places I shouldn't be, sin I knew I shouldn't be involved in. Sometimes I cried because of broken relationships, loneliness, and an unexplainable sadness that just seemed to take over my heart.

I always knew that Christmas was not about a day, and not about presents, or decorations, or any of the magical things Christmas was promoted to be. I had sat through dozens of Christmas day church services, went to midnight masses, Christmas Eve vigils, lit advent candles, and read Christmas devotions. I knew that Jesus came to save the world from our sins. I knew that He died for me. I knew all of the real reasons for Christmas. I knew about the virgin Mary, the realness and messiness of an infant Jesus coming into this world. I knew about the prophecies Jesus fulfilled. I knew Jesus came to this earth for me, and the rest of the world full of sinners. I knew all of those things. And yet, I cried.


Tonight is December the 26th and I sit on my couch pondering. The fire is smoldering on a bed of ashes that is 3 days old and needs to be cleaned. The lights are twinkling and casting an almost magical glow from our Christmas tree. I can see Tommy's socks in the middle of the living room floor, and I chuckle, because I know he pulled them off before he went to bed-he hates wearing socks to bed. The kitchen is halfway clean. The dishwasher is loaded to as full as it can be and the rest of the dishes sit waiting for their turn in the dishwasher tomorrow. Toys and tags and paper are still strewn about in bits and pieces from yesterdays festivities. Everyone is asleep. I can hear Isabell tossing and turning. I can hear Noah breathing too loud. The dogs are dreaming, because I can hear their nails clicking on the floor as they must be imagining they are running. I feel more tired than I have ever been, and yet I sit here awake. 

So many things to think about. So many things I want to remember, I want to share, I want to write down. Yet, I've not done that for two months. 

My heart is so full. Full of sadness- I wanted to write down, to do something in the month of November to celebrate and promote adoption, after all November is national adoption month and I have three children whom we adopted, and I did nothing.  Full of joy- I wanted to write about friendship. In my entire life I have struggled with friendships and slowly, very, very slowly, I have found and learned so much about what I was missing and where I was wrong. I wanted to remember the friends that have helped us. The dozens of ladies that made meals when we came home from China, that will never understand how much they blessed us. How pivotal their generosity to a person most of them barely knew, taught me so much about the character of Jesus. The friends that sat outside on our back porch and chatted on hot summer nights, listening to crickets chirping under a blanket of northwest Indiana stars. The talks we had about Jesus and silly YouTube videos will forever be a noteworthy memory of mine, the comfort and ease and importance of our conversations taught me more about fellowship than I have ever known. Full of pain- the brokenness of my children. The difficulty and struggles as a mamma I have with parenting... parenting little ones, parenting kids from hard places, parenting handicapped kids, parenting when nothing makes sense, and everything hurts. Full of change- a new niece, new schedules, new projects, new paperwork, new friends.  Full of confusion- going where God leads us, continuing to grow, being challenged in our marriage, in our home, in our family, in our finances, in almost every. single. decision. this year we have been challenged to think deeper, seek God's kingdom first, and that has made things harder, harder, because no longer can we be okay with living in our flesh, no longer can we make decisions solely based on what is "best for us", and that brings about changes, daily changes that require us to every single day die to ourselves and allow Him to increase and force us to decrease. 

We are in the middle. In the middle of joy and pain. So many days I cry to my mother about the children I can't parent, only to find myself hours later building a couch fort and snuggling with the kiddos with a flashlight a good book smiling because they are all so precious and life is so good.

Maybe I am fickle. Maybe I am complicated and random. Maybe a bit unstable. Maybe a bit too mouthy.

But tonight is December the 26th and in the 32 years of December the 26th's I can remember, this is the first time I am not crying. In fact I have found myself with a slight smile on my face. Growth and change is not easy. It's hard and messy. It's painful and full of scabs that get reopened and scars that don't want to go away. But to know Jesus.... but to know Jesus.

I can't say that I didn't know Him, but I can say, I didn't know Him, like I do today. All the times I ran from Him, He loved me, and still died for me. All the times I knowingly chose sin, chose to hurt my loved ones, chose to live for myself, chose to steal, to lie, to sin against His commandments, all those times, He loved me.  His mercy for me is unfathomable. All the times He should have abandoned me, He didn't. All the times I thought He did, He was only growing me, disciplining me, challenging me, using what Satan had planned for death, He used for His glory through me. Each day the innumerable times I know better, and yet I parent out of anger, I parent out of frustration, I parent out of selfishness, He is still there- giving me new mercies every morning, and extending me His grace. Every stupid argument with my family, my husband, my sisters, my parents, my in-laws. He is still there, loving me, loving me, His love never changing. No matter my sin, His love doesn't change. On the days I yelled at my kids more than ever, why did I somehow think He loved me any less than the days I didn't yell? Why did I ever think His arms were not open? 

His love has always been there, always been first, and it's His love that changes me. It's his love that grows me. Knowing my savior loves me like this, is what makes me love. It's what brings joy to my broken heart. His love is what grows me. His love is what makes me want to "sin no more." 

It's this unconditional, unfathomable, indescribable love, that He freely gives me, that on this December the 26th in all of the 32 years of December the 26th's keeps me smiling, and brings joy and peace to my heart.

  To keep this joy in my heart forever.  I write it down to remember.