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.

Thanksgiving

God, thank You for a country where I don’t fear for my girls’ physical safety throughout the day and at night.

God, thank You for a community where I can leave laundry on the line and toys out in my yard and they’re still there in the morning.

God, thank You for the freedom to read books about struggles that are so far removed from me.

God, thank You for safety and Your hand of protection on my family.

God, thank You that when the burglar broke in through the nursery window, entering and exiting through the girls’ room last May no one was harmed. Thank You for allowing the girls to sleep through it all and be oblivious to the danger You saved them from. Thank You that they still sleep soundly and safely in their room to this day.

God, thank You for a government that even in it’s sinfulness, still stands on most terms of protecting life and governing those who threaten the quality of life.

God, thank You for sparing my direct family from direct involvement in the utter destruction and soul-ripping pains of human trafficking. We didn’t get to pick where we were born, so thank You for this undeserved blessing.

God, thank You for sparing us, thus far, from the utter horrors of child soldiers, sexual abuse, torture, in-country combat war, abandonment, violence, rape, slavery and so many of the other ways mankind can find to inflict terror upon each other. Lord, don’t let me take it for granted that You have spared us from this, thus far. Please don’t let me get lost in my little world of blessing that I’d become so sheltered from the pains around this world… and please help me to fight the real battles, leaving the civil arguments amidst warm houses filled with more than we could ever need. Lord, please help me to run HARD after You, promoting Your justice to save us, mankind, from ourselves.

God, thank You so much for ALL that You have given me and opened my eyes to.

Now, Lord, help me to use that wisdom to fight the good fight, win the race and keep the faith.

You are more than enough.

Where You lead me, I will follow.

I love You, Lord.

– Amen.

Ninepence’s Less

I sat down to read the usual Adventure Missionary reading while the girls fell asleep. Hannah, who had waited patiently for her lunch, snuggled in for her feeding as I rocked, read and fed. Rachael and Abi laid silently in their beds, initially twiddling a finger here and there and later fast asleep.

I love reading the Christian Heroes: Then & Now series to the girls. I love that in one effort my little ones get to fall asleep to my voice, have a specific and daily set-aside time to hear the testimony of heroes of the faith, and that I get the privilege to soak in some “beyond picture books” reading.

I read this today and it really resounded in my heart:

Gladys realized that she could not leave the little girl to possibly die in the hands of such a heartless person. She stopped and turned and stared at the woman. “I don’t have that much cash, but I will give you what I have in my pocket.”

The woman smiled slyly. “And how much would that be?” she asked.

Gladys fished around in her jacket pocket and pulled out a few copper cash coins, equal to ninepence in English money. She held the coins out on her open palm for the woman to see.

“Done,” the woman declared, grasping for the money. “Take her away.”

Gladys took the hand of the little girl, who she decided must be about four or five years old. Together they continued on down the street. By the time Gladys reached the inn, the enormity of what she had just done began to dawn on her. She had just bought, or adopted, as she preferred to think of it, a little girl. Just like that, she had become a mother. 

Ninepence, as the girl quickly became known, gulped down every scrap of food she was given. Within weeks she had turned into a healthy, happy little girl. She loved living at the inn, and Gladys never had a moment of regret that she’d followed her heart and not the mandarin’s command. 

One day, after Ninepence had been living at the inn about six months, Gladys was standing on the upstairs balcony. Suddenly, she saw Ninepence come running through the gate into the courtyard.

“Ai-weh-deh [name given to Gladys by the Chinese and translated: “virtuous one”],” Ninepence yelled, “are you hungry tonight?”

Gladys thought the question rather odd, but she answered it. “Yes, I am, and Yang is making us a delicious millet stew.”

Ninepence looked up at her. “I’m going to eat a little less at dinner. If I eat a little less, would you eat a little less, too?” she asked. 

“Why would we do that?” inquired Gladys. 

“I found a boy out here, and he is hungry,” Ninepence said, pointing to the gate. “If I eat less, and you eat less, and we put those two lesses together, we would have enough to feed him, too.”

Gladys smiled to herself. Ninepence was always on the lookout for children in need. “Yes, I will eat less with you, and the boy can eat with us. Bring him in,” she said.

 And so it was, that an eight-year-old orphan boy also became part of the family. 

 – excerpt from “Gladys Aylward: The Adventure of a Lifetime” by Janet & Geoff Benge

It just got me to thinking and praying…

Lord, that I would eat less.

Lord, that more would eat less. Then we could put our lesses together to feed others and bring them into the family. 

… Amen.

– To God be the glory.

Still on the Playlist

I had a conversation with a dear friend, …oh it must have been a few weeks ago by now. The girls were all sleeping, my friend’s kids were knocked out as well, and we enjoyed the quiet households giving us the opportunity to share in each others’ lives.

I don’t even remember quite how we got onto the subject, but we blasted back to the very beginning of our marriages. I enjoyed learning about my dear friend’s transition from her Mother’s house to making a home of her own with her husband. And it was fun to take a walk down memory lane with her back to the old one-bedroom apartment that Matt and I stepped foot in after saying our ‘I do’s.

Well after the phone conversation ended, the memories swirled.

That broken bathtub drain clogged with a washcloth so I could do the mounds of dishes piled up, evidence of no dishwasher and a cutting-board sized counter space. Two full, full-time workers and then school and then internship. The late night hours waiting for Matt to return resulting in me falling asleep on the couch.

When we got married it was not in ignorance. We had seen divorces have their affects on families and kids. We were blessed to have also seen marriages, our parents, held together by Christ and prayer. We knew the statistical odds. We knew it’d be work. And we knew it’d be worth it.

But never in my wildest dreams could I ever have imagined it’d be this good.

Here 5 years later, rocking my youngest of three daughters, the praise of our Lord pours from my heart. Thanks be to the God of firm foundations. Thanks be to the God of uniting hearts. Thanks be to the God of hope and forgiveness. Thanks be to the God who has built our marriage on Him and Him alone.

I remember my roommate and best friend at the time putting together our wedding slideshow. She gathered together the old baby pictures of Matt and I, infusing two separate stories and sharing the years of memories captured in the hearts of our friends and families in attendance. She asked me to pick the background music. A few songs came to my mind that she easily found on my music playlist. Then by some near mistake, she came across the song. The song that captured the very heart of the commitment we were offering each other. “We Build” by Nicole Nordeman.

I wanted to share this song with you, but could only find it in terms of a past flood video so please enjoy the words and ignore the pictures for the purpose of this blog. 😉

“It’s bigger than we thought
It’s taller than it ought to be
This pile of rubble and ruins
The neighbors must talk
It’s the worst yard on the block
Just branches and boards where walls stood
Did it seem to you
Like the storm just knew
We weren’t quite finished with the roof
When it started?
So we build
We build
We clear away what was and make room for what will be
If you hold the nails, I’ll take the hammer
I’ll hold it still, if you’ll climb the ladder
If you will, then I will, build
On any given day
We could simply walk away
And let someone else hold the pieces
The lie that we tell
Says it’s better somewhere else
As if love flies south when it freezes
What I’m trying to say
In some clumsy way
Is that it’s you and only you for always
So we build
We build
We clear away what was and make room for what will be
If you hold the nails, I’ll take the hammer
I’ll hold it still, if you’ll climb the ladder
If you will, then I will, build
What I’m trying to say
In some clumsy way
Is that its you and only you, not just for now, not just today
But its you and only you for always
So If you hold the nails, I’ll take the hammer
I’ll hold it still, if you’ll climb the ladder
If you will, then I will, build

“We Build” speaks of emerging from the tragic moments, the tougher trials and challenges and choosing to build. Matt and I don’t have a pessimistic view of our marriage, but we do know there will always be trials and challenges and circumstances outside of our ability to rise from.

But instead of accepting the lie that “it’s better somewhere else” we must choose to build… together.

It’s that security of choosing the mindset that “it’s you and only you, for always”. When you start there the choice is to build now or have a harder time building later. But not building is not a choice.

Matthew, I love building beside you and with you. I am blessed beyond measure at the graciousness you extend to me through Christ. Thank you for teaching me with a humble heart how to build. Thank you, Lord, for breathing your truth into our marriage. Please, Lord, help us and hold us together because it’s so easy to be “prone to wander” when we look to ourselves to keep this marriage healthy.

I wish I could convey to you the reassurance I see in his eyes. It’s something that just can’t be put into words unless you have felt that kind of commitment. So many walk into relationships with a “hope this works out” mentality. And I must tell you that not one day of our marriage have I ever, nor will I ever, fear Matthew leaving me for “something else” or “someone else.”

So many times this confidence has been laughed at as naivety or immaturity. But I find it quite the opposite. I know that Matt’s soul is the Lord’s. His commitment to me is through his level of commitment to Jesus. For it is through Christ that he is even able to offer me a lifelong commitment. And just as it is a daily denying of self for the cause of Christ, Matt has chosen to daily work on our marriage. (And I likewise).

Sometimes daily working on our marriage looks like ignoring my flaws. Sometimes it looks like grace. Sometimes it looks like holding me accountable… even when I don’t want to hear it. Sometimes it looks like sitting next to me, holding my hand and not asking me to talk. But it always looks like, no matter what the day has held for us, it always looks like snuggling each other before we fall asleep.

See, no matter how flawed and frustrated and annoyed and selfish we have been, we have chosen our “for always” here on earth to be together. It’s not a commitment that can be changed by circumstance. It was decided once … until death. And it’s that commitment that keeps us coming back to apologize. We can joke, because otherwise the next 90 years are going to be mighty quiet and frustrating if we don’t apologize now. 😉

It’s hard for me to put into words. It’s hard for me to convey my appreciation, adoration and confidence in my husband’s heart. He chose our marriage in his mind. And he is one stubborn man. 😉

And I’m so blessed… so very blessed to build with him… no matter what.

– we build.

When the Answer is ‘No’

I’m not even sure where to start these swirling thoughts. It’s a lot to still take in.

I got a phone call a few months ago and we all celebrated quietly. We didn’t want to the news to slip out, but we were joyful at the life conceived after a hard run.

My dear sister in law had already lost three, two in a row and the most recent’s surgery still fresh on our minds. And then the news came. And we rejoiced quietly, so as not to announce anything before passing that first trimester window.

Things were trucking along, with understandable conversations of laying anxiety at Christ’s feet. For those of you whom have ever miscarried, you know that passing the last miscarriage date feels more secure… it’s like a deep breath can happen more freely.

And with the close of the first trimester, we were excited to see our prayers being answered favorably. Thanks be to the Giver of life who knits our very fragile selves together in the dark, quiet comforts of our Moms.

Then all at once she felt something was wrong. She told me of the multiple attempts from nurses and even the doctor to find little one’s heartbeat. I remembered that drop in the pit of my stomach when the same thing happened to me. She knew the baby was gone.

With another surgery scheduled, the healing phase begins again. Only this time with the hurt of having more children in heaven than here. We’re left with the ‘why’s to lay at His feet. And why four? The hurts. And the questions that we fight to keep from eating away at our sanity. Faith  is not shaken, but hurt is inevitable. Loss. The grief season.

So what are you supposed to do when the answer is ‘no’?

Again.

You hug each other
and hold each other
you come over to distract
and bring dinner
You pass off the baby when she needs snuggle therapy
And keep the baby quiet when she needs to forget
You listen
and listen
and listen some more

You hurt with her hurts
And cry with her crying
And you laugh with her laughs
because life still has joy
You go for walks
and drives
and celebrate what He has given her
with an arm around her at what has been taken away

And you both stand in the hope of Christ
a Hope that heals the soul

a Hope that breathes peace into the mind
and calm into the depths of the pain

a Hope that offers Life
when death seems to surround us

He is that Hope
and that Perfect friend

And so you just pray Him over her

because He is everything she could ever need…

… to heal.

… and to thrive through this storm.

– Love her so.

– to God be the glory. Forever. And Ever.

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