Music Monday: A Worthy Cause

Many years ago this artist popped into my world. My sister brought her in from college and she has become the “above the rest” artist since. It’s been a joy to watch the Lord grow her in her faith and breath His heart for the lost and dying world into her music.

We got a chance to meet her in person at the beginning of our orphan care journey when we first stepped up to the plate of “whatever you’d have for our family in orphan care, you can count on us.” We had been to many concerts, small and big. But what I love the most is so far beyond her…. it’s Jesus coming through her. She just opens herself up.

 

It’s a cleaning day today so naturally I have a soundtrack to keep me moving. There’s a lot to be done and I work better, faster and harder when my heart is focused on Whom I am truly serving by serving my family.

 

“And I love because You loved me when I had nothing…”

 

 

 

I can’t shake that truth from my mind this morning …. and I hope I never do.

 

 

Rising

So I wanted to take a moment to share how we are doing and how we have come to where we are today.

It’s a little hard to believe that 11 weeks ago (12 tomorrow) we first met “our” boys. It was just 3 days after my birthday. And while I had this feeling it could be “just around the corner” I had no idea how close the corner really was.

Our honeymoon was no honeymoon. Night 1 Little Man was up every 20 minutes. Every 20 MINUTES people and Matt and I got the opportunity to put our teamwork to the greatest victory we have had to date. It was rough. But we kept a lighthearted “don’t nurse the wrong baby” vibe as our new foster love began his round-robin of wake-up calls, echoed by our Hannah.

Day 2 was a blur of sleep deprivation followed by the termed “Jesus wrap” swaddler that took a “every 20 minute” cryer into the land of 8 hour sleeps. Suddenly the clouds broke on Day 3 and 5 felt manageable. We were still in the land of excitement decibel monitoring, “welcome to the new rules” management, and “that’s my Mommy” sharing training. Night 3 proved a wonderful 7 hour swaddling, while Big Guy continued to cry himself to sleep. We were still new. And confusing. And fun and exciting, but still “not Mom”.

Day 4 added some new groundwork on “this is how we do it here” training and then came the little cough. It was 8pm. Most were settled or close to settled in bed when the “little cough” began. The little cough returned our sleeping Little Man to 20 minute sound-offs. And by 4am, the little cough had turned to full-blown wheezing. We knew it was beyond us right then and there, but we didn’t know how bad it truly was. Looking back now I’m glad we didn’t know. I’m glad we didn’t know what we signed ourselves up for. Cause it was hard. Very hard.

A routine Dr. appointment  turned into a trip “straight to the ER”. 70% oxygen level in the blood plus the wheezing and the mucus faucet meant my girls were having an extended play visit and Matt was meeting me downtown.

No one plans to move into the hospital for 2 days when they leave the house to go to work. But the unknowns of Little Man’s response to illness and his weakened immunity sent us through a whirlwind of crisis management. Little Man rode the rollercoaster of waiting out the illness while Matt caught the flu from the hospital and I tried to figure out balancing four kids who wanted their father ad brother back. The “i don’t know” hurt the most when asked constantly when Little Man and Daddy would return. We felt stuck. And out of control. Family swooped in to help ease the blow, allowing Matt a moment to get away to eat “non hospital” food and see his teary-eyed girls. But he was sick. And we couldn’t afford to be sick too. So there was still some hard distance.

After 2.5 days Little Man was released to go home. But it took the good part of 30 days to overcome his illness with choppy sleep and newborn-like discomforts. We were still studying him. And he does sick very ugly. He didn’t know us. And we didn’t know him. So comfort was hard to come by.

In the mean time, Hannah was being slowly untrained to sleep through the night and was learning separation anxiety early. My big girls took on the stress in different ways. Sometimes they just wanted to play by themselves and sometimes they would cry a little longer or be more stubborn in their defiance. They were testing that we were still as in love with them as we were before the boys. And happily, we passed the test. =)

Big Guy hit it off well with me. Playing built trust quickly. And stability breathed comfort into him. And honestly, it was Christ and Christ alone that covered the burns of the past when we could only assure him of his safety and rub his hair through the tears. Slowly the bedroom door was able to be closed more and more. He trusted we were still going to be there. And he was safe. Today it’s only open a crack.

Little Man healed from his 30 day bug and returned to sleeping well at night for 4 days. Then he got bronchitis. And we were back to square one. Only this time we got a suction machine from urgent care. Yay for tools! And we sucked that boy into a greater ability to sleep and eat to overcome his illness. After 2 weeks the oogies had cleared enough that he sounded “normal.” He stayed normal until the weather change and now sounds terrible again. But we’re used to how he does sickness now. And we’re used to identifying what we can and cannot suck out of him. Congestion is the poor boys default. And it’s not always accompanied by illness.

So here we find ourselves. embracing the new normal. Everyone going to bed in their own beds. Everyone comfortable enough with each other to sleep to their full potentials. Little Man is Matt’s baby at night. And I’m in charge of our Little Redhead. Then we flip coins for the older girls on growing pain and “have to go potty” random nights depending on how our assigned babies are sleeping.

Big Guy is no longer staying awake until 11pm in is bed, he has now become accustomed to a more typical 5 year old bedtime. He has begun memorizing Scripture with the family at bedtime and is delighting in his Sunday School class. He’s stopped being completely shy amidst the “let’s talk to the assistant pastor’s kids” addresses. And he is one seriously skilled madman on his “new to us” bike. His eyes hold trust. And he is expressing his deep hurts and his deep loves. And he’s stopped crying when it’s time to come back with us after his visits with his Mom. Matt’s “Daddy” many times and I’m “Mommy” “Mom” or “Monica” depending on his mood. We’ve never introduced ourselves as anything other than Matt and Monica. We let him decide who we are to him. =)

Little Man is showing increased muscle toning and accepting more and more distraction from toys and dustings of self-soothing. He is becoming more of a smiler and more predictable in his wants/needs. He was a harder cookie for me to love at first. (Just being honest). I am one the can handle sleep interruptions (within reason), but when you add that to a constant crying unless a bottle was held in the child’s mouth for the first weeks… it was quite hard in my balancing of 5.  But we’re building a better relationship now and time to grow, mature and change has really helped mesh us both better.

And my girls… well with the grace of God we’ve been able to still preserve their innocence in all this. While it’s a challenge to stifle “too informed” announcements at the dinner table without peeking our Commentator’s interest, Big Guy is quite receptive to “yeah, let’s not talk about that” cues while still trusting that when he needs to talk to us about things we are more than willing to walk the harder roads with him. I am thankful for God’s grace in Big Guy’s quick-learning in this area. The Lord is sheltering my babies while opening their eyes to a Jesus love alive in compassion.

We still have our hiccups. And our silly tufts. And our control-issues. Oh and then there’s the frequented time-out corner…

But we’re meshing still. And we’re talking about sharing life together. And planning for “in the summer” without tears forming in Big Guys eyes at that reality. We’re still praying for Mom. She needs Jesus. And she needs healing. But she’s got the love of her boys right. And for that we are thankful.

You know, it’s funny in all this… the very fear of foster care that I had to begin. You know that one everyone so happily brings up in every conversation when they realize the boys aren’t ours… “Oh, how are you going to give them back? I could never do that.”

I don’t know. I really don’t. But it doesn’t scare me. It doesn’t keep me up at night. I can’t change it. And it’s what God has given us. And if after I love these boys unconditionally for months or years they go back to Mom, then I’ve done what God has called me to do. And we’ll cry and we’ll carry on as a family. And if after I love these boys unconditionally for months or years and I become their legal Mommy, then I’ve done what God has called me to do. And we’ll cry and we’ll carry on as a family.

It is hard work.

But it is the right work.

And I trust my Maker.

He designed us for this.

So cheers to the challenge.

– To God be the glory.

In the Morning.

Today I am feeling really beat down by orphan care. Between the bickering, twin 2’s constant discontentment and downright screaming today, my Hannah’s undoing of her sleep training (be it due to the added stress of our household, the addition of Twin 2 in our room for the 1.5 months before we moved him out, or her own demise), and now round 3 of lice as discovered once again in my two year old’s hair after the culprit being our oldest foster son. Today I just want to run away. I want to take my biological family and run away. I want to hide from the constant beat-down. I want to hide from the sicknesses of twin 2. I want to hide from the chaos of five kids. I want to hide from the constant battles and struggles. I just want to take “my kids” and run away from all of this orphan care.

I won’t. But I just want to be honest.

Not every day is glamorous. And this Mommying is really hard. And it hurts. And it brings me to tears. And there are moments I just want to run away. It’s hard to love someone so much that you want to run away from them and yet take them with you as well.

Today I want to blame someone. I want to call up his Mom and ask her how she could do this to them. I want to call up his “Dad” and ask him why this was ever okay. I want to yell at someone for the harm they have done to these kids. And I want to cry and hold them and just run away.

And I want to yell at someone for how little of a Mom I have left to give to my girls after dealing with the babies. I want to cry to someone about how much it hurts to tell my four year old that no I can’t play with her AGAIN because I have another diaper to do, or a baby to calm, or I just can’t think straight after another hard night of being up every 45 minutes. And I want to cry to someone as my baby screams at bedtime because she’s overwhelmed and tired and just flat out mad – coping with all the changes. And I want to take my favorite blanket and hide away at the bottom of my closet because it all feels like too much and it all won’t stop swirling.

I may sound like a wimp. I may sound like a fool. But I just wanted to be honest.

This hurts. And this is really hard.

And I want to fall on my face again before God and ask Him why. Why is it so hard? Why does it have to be this way? And what will I possibly do if after seeing my utter raw self these boys go home?

There’s silence.

A lot of silence.

But I know He’s listening. And I know He cares.

Joy will come in the morning…. it just has to!

Waiting

This Christmas I am overwhelmed as usual by my gratefulness for our little family. I am so blessed to delight in our three little girls and this holiday season has given me extra time to say extra thank you’s to God for His gracious gift of our children.

And as I have said my thank you’s and continue to do likewise, there is a small flicker of yearning that draws me to tears as I write this. A flicker of desire… for the little one or little ones God will bring into our family in the future that are currently enduring the hardships that will bring them into the system. They could already be in the system, trying to reunite with a family that cannot keep them for whatever reason. Or worse yet, my precious little one(s) could be enduring the very thing that will bring them to our home. My babies… my babies…

It’s the heart that God has been stitching in us all. It’s the heart of God that presses Rachael to say with full confidence, “we have empty beds, so let’s have kids come stay with us. And if they have Mommies and Daddies to go home to then they can go home later, but if not, we’ll ‘dopt them and they can have us for their family.”

It’s the heart of God that brings tears to my eyes and breaks my heart in the beauty of adoption and the process that’s on the horizon.

It’s not with naivety… it’s going to be really hard. It’s going to have unknown challenges and hurts and loss. It’s going to have unimaginable frustrations with the system and if we see them go home, while we’ll be advocating for their best, it’ll break our hearts to say goodbye. And it’s going to be amazing, delighting in the little steps forward and wrapping a little one in the love of Jesus that they never thought imaginable. It’s going to be like nothing we’ve ever done. Thankless and rewarding all in one. And everything about it will be right for us… because it’ll push us to see this world through God’s eyes as we walk beside the American orphan, even if just for a season.

So, sweet little one(s) out there this Christmas, know that you are on my mind. And amidst the excitement, picture-taking and delight of centering our day around acknowledging the coming of our Savior to this earth, know that my heart yearns for you.

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We are waiting, sweet little one(s), and praying for you.

The Click of the Track

It’s like sitting at the top of the roller-coaster hill: the excitement, the unknown, the holding your breath before the rush… just waiting for the back of the train to push you over and the wildly wonderful ride to really begin.

Tomorrow when our county worker comes we will be notifying her that we’re ready to take a placement. Then we’ll be waiting (maybe for only a few days, only God knows) to see who God invites into our home through a foster placement phone-call. It could be before Christmas, or maybe afterward. But regardless, our hearts are and have been opened to sharing our lives because of the Greatest Gift of All coming down to visit us… in the depths of our very beings. Who knows what baggage they will carry, what hurt or what loss. But Jesus has and will continue to compel us to love deeper and walk this road with the American orphan.

We love you, precious child (or children) from a depth we did not create, but Christ created in us.  And we have so prayed over your coming.

Please… feel welcome, even if only for a short stay on your journey… come in and rest. You are safe here. You are so loved.

– God, please help us lean on You throughout this journey of loving the American orphan. And if it would be Your will, please bring a child home to stay, should they need a family. Lord, please give us the strength to bless and release and exercise forgiveness, should we get the opportunity to come alongside a broken family as they learn how to parent, love and protect. And please, Lord, I pray for our girls… God that You would open all of our hearts to Jesus along this path. Thank You for Your Hope and the opportunity to come alongside the American orphan, learning what it is to daily love a child (or children)…. from right where they are. Please help us to feel Your direction when the phone-call or phone-calls come in. May we say yes when You desire it and not only when we feel it’s the safest or most comfortable move. Please, Lord, I pray… speak and help us to obey with joy. I love You. In Jesus’ Name.

It Caught Me

There was something in her stale eyes, dirt-clod mouth and blank expression that caught me.

One of those messages on facebook hit me this morning as I scrolled through my friends’ thanksgiving gratitude posts. You know, those “hit share if you feel some emotion” posts with someone’s story and a picture. Seeing so many of those things posted on my wall, I usually just breeze past them – maybe I’m just a victim of over-sharing. But I couldn’t scroll past this one. It hit me as such a stark contrast.

An eerie expression of a buried baby, with only her face uncovered. My stomach churned. [And thus is why I am choosing not to attach the story to this post.] A discomfort made me read the attached story below the picture. I was almost drawn to that painful terror, praying for the evidence of some hope in the storyline.

The story unfolded about an Egyptian father (self-proclaimed Muslim) who buried his two daughters (8 years old and an infant) alive beside his recently murdered wife whom he caught reading the Bible. The children reported, when discovered 15 days later, that “A man wearing shiny white clothes, with bleeding wounds in his hands, came every day to feed us.” Even explaining that the man woke up the children’s mother to nurse the baby. The eight year old identified the shining white man as Jesus on national television, broadcast to a predominantly Muslim nation.

While this story could be a testimony of Christ’s miracle, the repetitive image of a discarded life was etched into my mind. The horror of it all. Those stale eyes, dirt-clod mouth and that blank expression…

Maybe it’s because I see how easily she erupts in a radiant smile. Maybe it’s because I delight in her two month old coos. And the light in her eyes. Those wiggling arms and legs as she spots Matt and I coming near. Her delight. Her utter joy. And the beauty in her eyes…

And then to see this little one’s face… the distrust and broken pain in her listless figure.

I don’t need to watch horror movies, there is living horror all around us. People can do such terrible things to each other. Sin can sure corrupt in unimaginable ways. And while the depth of the pain, hurt and despair can feel endless, my heart yearns for the rescuing arms of Christ. I don’t ask to be rescued from witnessing the monstrosity in this world… no, but the depths of my soul groans and yearns for a rescuing Savior who marches into that brothel and grabs up His bride.

The inner needs for God’s justice for those who have been cast aside as unwanted and expendable…

“Oh that You would rend the heavens and come down (today), that the mountains would tremble before You! As when fire sets twigs ablaze and causes water to boil, come down to make Your name known to Your enemies and cause the nations to quake before You!” – Isaiah 64:1

 

*** I was informed by my dear aunt that this story in itself was reportedly untrue. While this certainly makes my heart feel better regarding the poor lives of two innocent children, the reality that things like this happen in the world of child abuse and sinful acts parents do to “the least of these” is very much true in this world. And while this picture may not have been attached to a true story, the picture of a child’s face being found buried in the ground is sadly more common than we may want to admit. Again, I am relieved that this story was not true, but cannot rest in the naivety that these kinds of stories do not exist. It’s just that these kinds of monstrosities tend to not be widely publicized, just as mass genocide is not easily found in history textbooks.

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