Looking Forward to February

This morning I said to myself, "I don't like February."  It is always a hard month for me.  Holidays are over and the winter continues on, often cloudy and cold.  A season of sickness and being cooped up inside.  I really don't like this month!  

Immediately God whispered, "What if you learn to love this month?" "What if you refrain from trying to hurry it along?" he continued. "What if you find me here in this cold and cloudy winter?" You see, that was exactly my plan. I wanted to rush this month along looking forward to the warmth of Spring. That's where God stopped me.

What happens when your children are all school age and there are no more cute babies or funny toddlers and they all are weird and have really stinky breath?  Seriously, it seems with every baby tooth lost another level of halitosis is gained. Discipline is harder and the conversations are longer.  You see them and hear them running away from God.  Their sin becomes bigger and harder to fight.  They listen in on every conversation you have wanting to be a part of them all.  Privacy is lost because nap times are gone, especially if you are a homeschool mom.  Can you tell this is a hard place for me right now?  

We all have our hard places.  One of us may struggle in one area while another thrives in that place.  Each of us are unique, yet God meets us individually, patiently parenting us through our lives. He knows what is best for us.

So I asked myself:

What if I could learn to love this stage?  

What if I took my days and asked God what He has for me here instead of wishing the days away or worse, dwelling on past days with babies and toddlers.  

What if when my kids look weird and smell weird, I learn to pull them even closer instead of push them away?

I'm not sure I can do that, but the questions linger. 

What if we could learn to love the hardest parts of our life because they lead us to our greatest encounters with Jesus.

I recently had a conversation with a friend about working out. I suggested that she try and remember the 'after the workout' feeling. That feeling motivates me to work out again and again, even when I really don't want to. That feeling! We must remember that feeling.

It's the same as we think about upcoming struggles.

Do you remember walking through a difficult time? A hard marriage, death, physical pain, emotional pain, waiting in adoption, a failed adoption, infertility, sick children, betrayal, PTSD, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, nervous break down, homeschooling, raising children, singleness? Did you find Jesus in that place?  Did you get close to him?  Did you experience freedom?  Did you get more of Him?

Much like the feeling after a workout, do you remember that feeling after you did all that heart work. Was there a new freedom? a new truth revealed?  Remember that feeling so, as the next hardship comes, you can say "Yes, Lord! Let me find you here!"

If you have never experienced this, now is the time to ask God the hard questions.  

Can I know you here?  

Will you hold me here? 

And then, take the time to listen.

Our Heavenly Father loves His children. He is faithful and patient to come to us again and again. He will come after us and He will do whatever it takes to teach us to come near to Him. He knows that true joy is only found in himself. It is where we are safest.  I often fail to learn this the first time around. Sometimes it's the second, third or fourth time. As I turn to worldly things to fill me or distract me, He patiently loves me back to himself. I feel him say, "let's try this again." "Look to me," he says, "and you will find the rest that you seek."

So, I respond. 

Lord, let me find you in February.  Let me know you are here.  And in knowing you're here, I see things in a new light. A light that breaks through the deepest places of pain and brings new perspective; an eternal perspective. 

This is where the hard place becomes the secret place. 

The place where Jesus draws us close as we persevere. The place where He reveals himself in a new and deeper way. Could this become a place that we start to look forward to? Could I ever look forward to February?

What is your 'February'?

In the Midst of the War

I am two very different people.  And they are at war with each other every day.

One of them operates without the Spirit (flesh), while one is walking in the Spirit (Spirit-led). They bring me to drastically different responses to a variety of situations. The spirit ushers me to Jesus where I get more of Him. The flesh creates responses that cause separation from Him. The flesh seems a much easier and more readily available response.

For example,

I tell my daughter that it's time to walk the dog.  She responds with a look of death topped of with rolled eyes.  The flesh wants me to say with a prideful tone, "How dare you look at me like that.  I am your mother and I have loved you through every difficult day. I give my life to you.  I love you when your breath smells, and you smell, and when you look weird, act weird, and make my life so hard."

Yet, if I respond in the spirit, it creates a different atmosphere.

"Babe I know you don't want to walk the dog but thank you so much for helping out. It means so much to me," I say,  "Come give me a hug my lovely daughter."

(Of course, I struggle to speak those words without sarcasm.)

The spirit-led response is difficult. But, when I choose it, something happens to both her and I.  I feel warmth from my Father and she does too.  His love absorbs all pride and anger. We both win.

Another example:

My son looks me straight in the eyes and tells me a lie. I know it is a lie and he even has a smirk on his face to intensify things.  My flesh is screaming to let loose and yell like a crazy woman.  Lying for me is a huge betrayal and it really burns me up.  I want to yell "how could you lie to me?"  "I am your mother and I love you!" "Don't you dare lie to me!"

I have that look in my eyes, wide-eyed, leaning forward a bit, over enunciating every word because I have to; I mean it.  That is, of course, the time my child clams up and is afraid to even look at his crazy mother. My flesh is being fed and I want to yell even more now that he can't talk.

OR, I could respond differently and say:

 "Son, I don't think you are telling the truth.  I know how hard it is to tell the truth; it takes courage.  Let's pray and ask God for that courage." Then, I hold him near me while we pray.  I wait and see what God is doing here.  I often underestimate what God can do without me and my words.

As I ponder these things, I think of How my heavenly father deals with me in my sin.  He is not yelling at me from across the room or looking at me with disgust.  He is near me with eyes full of grace.  There are often consequences for our sin, just like for our children. It's a part of loving.   But even in the consequence, He is near.  He is warm and understanding.  He is holding me and encouraging me to live holy and blameless in the midst of the war.  I love this thought and as I so often choose the flesh as I parent, once again it reveals the holes in how I view my Father.  If I am to imitate Him, my reaction cannot be in the flesh.  When I teach and discipline my kids, it will not be from afar.  It will be close and it will be good. It will be filled with grace.

If I want to be near my Father where it is safe and warm, I must choose the more difficult path.  The road of love and grace, delivering consistent consequence, is the hardest road in the heat of every moment.

This road is narrow but, it is filled with light and warmth. It is where joy can be found in the midst of the struggle.

A New Place

We are getting close to four years since we first brought our 3 children home from Ethiopia.  The memories of where we've been are still clear, but these years have been so hard and so crazy that it seems like a compilation of hard places.

It seems almost weekly I hear of a disrupted adoption or of families in great despair as they try to hang on and love there children through deep heart wounds.  I ache for them. As our family continues on this journey, I am able to feel their pain. It seems to consume every moment of every day. My own wounds have been triggered. There is no hiding from the way I feel or how I react in my most painful places. My heart is exposed. More than that, it has exposed a false view my heavenly Father.

BUT GOD is not leaving me there.

I am asking and He is listening.  I am asking for a more intimate place and He is answering.  I am asking for freedom and He is giving.  I am breaking the friendships I have made with fear, disappointment, and frustration.  I am building new friendships with joy, love, and peace. And patience, of course.  As the years go by, I ask myself, 'Why so much pain?'  Is it because we said 'yes' to three children who are deeply wounded, or is it because I am expecting God to lead me from afar while he is asking me to walk closer to Him?

I am starting to see that the issues are more embedded in the way I view and relate to Christ, and less about how my children relate to me.  He's taking me to these places for a reason.

My days are often overwhelmed with hard moments: uncontrolled emotions, inability to express true feelings, meal-time fear, hurtful words, and awkward hugs that don't quite feel at home yet. In the midst of it, I see Christ summoning me from the end of the church aisle, like walking toward Jake on our wedding day.  I am crying just like I did at my wedding, yet these tears are different.  I am crying with fear; fear to get too near to Him.

Why am I afraid of my loving Father?  On this journey, I often feel like he's a coach, asking me to do hard things from afar. Yet He's not far at all.  He wants to lead me through this from a very intimate place; our secret place.  So I take a few steps towards Him, all the while trying to carry burdens in my own strength. He continues to call me down the aisle. I stop, I stumble, holding onto the pews for support, not sure I can do it.

I know the closer I get the more broken I will be. I will let out deep cries of pain in the safety of his embrace.  I will lose it.

But, what if I don't want to lose it?

I have so many things to take care of, so many conversations to have, and so many hugs to give. He keeps calling me. I want to run but I drag my feet. I take little steps, just like my Addie when I make her practice running to me for a hug.  I am not much different then my beautiful twelve year old that spent the first eight years of her life in constant pain.

Still, he calls me down the aisle.

Sometimes, I run out and leave the church alltogether, trying to find a place where I won't feel so vulnerable. I always end up crawling back up the steps.  I just can't stay away from Him.  The closer I get, the warmer I feel.  Each pew I pass reveals new things in my heart and I have to lay it down.

I have to lay it down.

I am tired of asking God to lead me from afar. I want to be close to him. As my friend Sara Hagerty says, I want to be 'close enough to smell him.'

So, I am going to keep going. I am going to keep asking. I am going to get there. I am on my way.

This is a new place for me.

Adoption Summit

We are hosting an adoption summit.  We are super excited about it check out this website for all the details.
www.447summit.org

Orphan Fever

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DISCLAIMER: I am in no way saying that all should adopt and in no way am I saying that having children by birth is wrong.  This is simply a cry for the orphan and a voice that is often unheard. I have heard them, I have seen them, and I will remember.

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I am surrounded by new babies, new mothers, and the newest baby gear. I see pregnancies, baby showers, baby rooms, baby, baby, baby, and ooohhhs and aahhs over it all.  I see the joy, the excitement, the constant talk about deliveries, the 'natural way' vs. 'epidural all the way' discussion and much more.

I look at pictures of my newborns and nearly tear up every time.  I remember the sweetness, the smells, the overwhelming joy.  I remember the slowness, and all the beauty.  Some days I sit and think about doing it all again. I am surrounded by 'baby fever' and it's just the stage of life I'm in.

However, each time I hear someone talking about having baby fever, or hear such words from my own lips, my heart hurts a little bit.  I hear Christ say, "what about the orphans?" I remember when He first gave me 'orphan fever' and a desire to mother the motherless.  It is not always cute, sometimes scary, and not always full of ooohhhs and aahhs. It is full of moments of "JESUS, HELP ME!" but, even more moments of 'JESUS, YOU ARE SO GREAT!!" and "JESUS, YOU AMAZE ME!!!"  Oh, but it is definitely a place where I hear Him. Not to say that I didn't hear him when my two children by birth were born or even now as I raise them, but it was/is a special place where His voice becomes clearer still.

I am dying to hear someone say "I have orphan fever!" "I long to see Christ glorified in my life and I want to adopt!"  I hurt for my three babies every time I hear the words 'baby fever'.  I hurt because I watch them struggle through the pain of loss, rejection and abandonment. I see them saying "Mom, what was I like when I was a baby?" "Do you think I was cute?" "Was there a baby shower for me?" "Did you still want me even though I was not a baby?" These daily conversations come filled with tears and hugs and an ever-present picture of the Gospel.

We adopt because we have been adopted.


John 14:18
I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.

James 1:27
Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this:  to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.

The orphan crisis is crying out for help.  Will you have orphan fever?  Pray, pray, pray!

I NEVER WANTED TO BE ADOPTED!

Every time we move or travel or change things our adopted children regress, which adds to an already stressful situation. So, here we are in the midst of a lot of stress again and Adanech is needing a lot from me.  We have spent hours talking, praying, talking, praying and doing it all again. Unfortunately, through all this I know she is feeling my annoyance and my exhaustion.  I am hugging her often but I know she can feel my coldness. After a very long day with Adanech (I mean long!!!), she shouts at me with all the anger she could. I NEVER WANTED TO BE ADOPTED!!!!!

Now back up three weeks...
We just had moved to Omaha and everything was chaotic. Only half of our stuff was in our home and nothing felt familiar.  Adanech was giving me all the bad attitude she could, in school, at play time, during bedtime and mealtime.  She took every chance she could to roll her eyes at me and to rebel.  It was tiring me out and I was offended. I wanted to act like a child and return the attitude.

As she is yelling this at me as loud as she can, my response is:
"I know baby, I know."

I said "come here", and she did.

I hug her and ask her to go upstairs with me ask her if she wants to yell a bit and beat her pillow. I show her how.  She then proceeds to beat her pillow weeping and saying "I never wanted to be adopted!"

I say again, "I know baby, I know."

When she sits down, we chat about it and how she is feeling.

I go down to get her supper because she wants to be in her room and I bring it up to her.  I then pick her up and she is not little.  I hold her like a baby and rock her and sing a song of love into her ear.

I cry.

She cries.

Then God reminds me that He can love her even when I have no love and am so tired and angry and want to walk away.  He reminds me that in humility I will change.  He reminds me of who He is.  He reminds me that she is my daughter.  He reminds me that I am His daughter.  What a sweet moment and in that moment I feel Adanech and I take a huge jump forward in our attachment with each other.  It is a win people! Once again, we have so far to go but, we just keep going by the grace of God.  This is what I am believing for my beautiful daughter.

Psalm 147:3
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

Although her wounds are many and her heart is in many pieces I believe that she will be healed.

Thoughts after 2 yrs

John 14:18 says:

"I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you."

(What precious, healing, beautiful, comforting words of Jesus)

Two years... WHAT THE HECK, SERIOUSLY?!?!? We made it two years. God is so great, so faithful, so true. HE IS LOVE.

I love this time of year because it triggers so many memories......

First day with the children in Ethiopia:

I am scared to death and so are they. I keep looking at them thinking they are beautiful and they keep looking at me with scared beautiful dark, dark, dark brown eyes. We were outside playing ball at the house where we were staying. Adanech went to the bathroom and after she was gone a while, she came out crying. With the help of our translators Anthony and Yosef we figured out she had gotten into my suitcase and took some of my food and was eating it. She was crying because she felt guilty, so I took her hand and we walked to our room. I picked her up and put her in my lap and we both wept. Not just tears running down our face, I am talking about truly weeping. I wept out of fear, out of sadness for my daughter who has had to fight to survive for so long. She wept out of fear while having no idea how to accept me as her new mother. There were so many emotions for both of us. I was so glad she let me hold her though. After our good cry together(which we have gotten so good at doing that together), we went out to play ball. That was two years ago.

I am sick with bronchitis right now. Saturday, I was the worst and Adanech stood at my door crying because she wanted to care for me. She is full of compassion. She wanted to hold my hand and do anything I needed. She loves me!!!!! and I love her!!!! Two years ago God placed her in my lap as my daughter. I am so blessed!

Back to our first days in Ethiopia:

I had not slept in days (no joke). I was just too excited to get to my babes. The flight had been hard and I was sick with sinus infection so, I was so tired. Jake took all the kids to eat with our friends while I stayed back to take a nap. It took a while to fall asleep and it felt like I had just closed my eyes when I heard some far off wailing. I knew it was one of my babes. I jumped up and when out to the driveway to find my Abreham standing by the vehicle screaming. I said frantically to Jake, what happened?!?!? He said, "Yosi told Abreham he needed to quit demanding from me and say please. Abreham did not like that idea so he thought he would just start screaming. He wanted his back pack but would not say please." And so began our first screaming fit.

Adanech was telling him to stop as she also tried to get the back pack from Jake and give it to Abreham. Yosi kept telling Adanech "all he has to do is say please." So later (THREE HOURS LATER!!), I was in tears. Jake, however, holding strong. He held Abreham in his lap on the ground while Abreham screamed so hard he vomited all over Jake. Abreham finally relented and produced the long-awaited 'Embaka' (Amharic for 'Please') and Jake gave him the Backpack. Then, as if transforming into a completely different boy, he uttered in a very sweet voice, "Papa," and wanted Jake to hold him some more. That was the first of many screaming fits. But, now (two years later), and my boy never screams like that and says 'please' all the time. He is such and joy and as the time goes on I see fear releasing from his sweet eyes and being replaced with trust and love. I love this boy.

Another memory from our days in Ethiopia:

I am holding Petros who has a fever and can barely hold up that head of his. He smiles all the time but, often has the far-off look in his eyes; like he is not even present. He does not walk well and his run is something else. We laughed so much at him and even through all of his sickness he had the best sense of humor. He is still is the funny man. Petros would often lay his head on my shoulder and softly sing. Oh, how I loved it. This little boy was more then ready to jump into our arms and trust us.

I will never forget being at the Embassy and the lady was telling Jake and I that once we signed these papers we could never return these children for any reason. Abreham was laying on the floor screaming because he wanted another kids toy. Adanech was mad at the other kid that would not give Abreham the toy, but just as the lady said this, Petros leaned into my face and gave me kisses on both cheeks soaking me with his snot (keep in mind he had just cracked his head open on the ground). He kept smiling all the while.

Although I was scared to sign those papers, Petros' love gave me courage. Although Petros was sick when we got him, he is such a healthy boy today. He now has one of the strongest immune systems in the family. When we all get sick, he's rarely gets it. I love this boy and he loves people so deeply!

We so often hear these words:

"You adopted them? They are so blessed. They are so lucky you gave them a chance on life."

But here's the thing: We are the blessed ones. Has it been hard? HECK yes! The hardness and the struggle has brought us closer to Christ. What a gift! We as an entire family have learned so much about compassion, trust, love, endurance, patience, selfless love and more love. We are a family because CHRIST has done a miracle in all of our hearts. Christ has taken us to places that were not possible on our own. Christ has broken us, picked up our broken pieces and restored them. Christ has shown us how beautiful it is to be broken and how much clearer we can see His face in that broken place. I cannot imagine our life without the adoption. I don't want to know myself without this gift of love.

So I pray,

"Keep breaking us Lord. Use this family for Your glory. And although we can breathe a little easier two years later, don't let us get too comfortable. Don't let us stray from You God. Thank you Jesus, thank you for all You have done."