Waiting



Our Sunday meal from The Orphan's Table. A meal similar to many eaten by orphans and impoverished people around the world. Did we like it? Not really. . .but it gives us good perspective.


Yesterday was the first time that I felt the burden of waiting for our kids. It was just a pit in the bottom of my stomach, but it was there and it was un-quietable. We are at the point in our process where we simply have to wait--wait for governments to do what they do, wait for our kids to be found, wait for them to be checked out (medically and orphan status), wait for money to be earned, set-aside, and raised.

Wait, wait, wait.

And usually I am quite okay with waiting. I don't mind being patient. I have a full life and kids and a husband and a house I can barely keep clean and school and writing.

But yesterday, for the first time, life just felt a bit emptier without them. And I don't even know who they are yet.

I am not despairing. I am just putting words to my feelings.

The feelings I naturally have toward getting these kids home have been intensified by the fact that today is Orphan Sunday. It's a day to remember and pray for the millions of children around the world without parents, homes, food, clothes, security. It's a day for Christians to stand up for the defenseless and love on the fatherless.

I spoke in front of my church today about Orphan Sunday--and I was a nervous wreck. How do I communicate the calling that God has given each of us to care for the orphan? How do I not make it about me or my family or any other family, but instead about these kids--who deserve love and homes? How do I honor God the most with my words?

Thinking about these things have kept me up at night. Let me tell you, there is very little that keeps me up at night. But orphans and their plight: well, they bother me. They bother my heart, they cause me to be uncomfortable, to itch for action, to do something. I want them to be loved, I want to love them.

But right now, I'm supposed to wait. And it makes me want to cry.

I think I'm supposed to raise awareness, to talk about uncomfortable things, to challenge people to take a step. I would much rather wrap my arms around a child and read them stories and play games and sing songs.

I want to wrap my arms around my kids. To bring them home.

But I will wait, knowing that until, and even after we bring them home, God has His great, big, all-encompassing arms around them. And me.

Quarter 1 Recap

So, we've finished 10 weeks of school and I thought that this would be a good time to recap the things that we've done, mostly so I can pat myself on the back and say "good job, me!" Because even though I love it, this homeschooling stuff is hard work: it gobbles up a fair bit of my time and energy, demands patience and love and a huge helping of the Holy Spirit, and my house is pretty much a disaster all of the time.

But I love it! Why? well because I get to study history and science and math and writing with my kids. I get to hear Katie getting a better grasp on reading and watch Josh understand the math concepts of carrying and borrowing. Josh & Katie have also started asking questions that have forced us to explore more deeply, try a bit harder. Why isn't there more about women in the Middle Ages? What is the code of chivalry?  Olivia is excited to learn her letters and is dying for the opportunity to read.

We have explored the crust of the earth with a pizza and started testing minerals. We have travelled with Richard the Lion-hearted, Joan of Arc, the Black Prince, Marco Polo, and St. Francis of Assissi. We have visited Scandinavia in the winter with the Tomten, sailed with the Vikings to Greenland and beyond, and marched across Europe through Asia minor for the glory of God. We've learned that sometimes priests are focused on things other than God, women had a strong presence in the Middle Ages (who do you think cared for farms when all the men went off to war), and becoming a knight was not easy. We've learned our Spanish vowels and pointed out many el camion and el autobus.

We' ve met the God of the Bible: Jehovah, El Elyon, El Kana, El Shaddai, and Elohim--and learned that he is a loving, Creator God who deserves and demands our full attention and lives. Before Him there can be no other.

In life, we've encountered some bumps, been bruised, but have used creative thinking to overcome. There are now chore charts and kid calendars and places where the kids learn from others than me. They've brought me to tears, I've made them cry. School at our house is life magnified by 1,000.

But we're looking forward: to the Renaissance, the Age of Discovery, The Reformation, Shakespeare. Minerals and Rocks. Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication, and Division. Spanish. And most importantly, Christ Incarnate: the Son of our Living God, come to earth as baby to live life and die for all our sins.

There is so much to be thankful for, so much more to learn.

And now, for your viewing pleasure: A smilebox album on our trip to the Renaissance fair in mid-September. We had a fantastic time and I hope to use much of what we saw to bring home the lessons we are learning in the weeks to come.

Enjoy!

This slideshow made with Smilebox

Writer's Block

So, if you know anything about me, you know two very basic things:
1} I love the written word. I love the way it flows on  paper. I love the way the way words force me to consider things that I wouldn't on my own: an emotion, a question, a problem, a solution. I could spend most of my time thinking about words.
2} I love to learn new things. I love to ask questions and learn about people and places. I like going a bit deeper and asking uncomfortable questions that get at the heart of a feeling or problem or situation or person. When I meet someone who views, thinks, or knows differently from me, I want to know about it--so I ask a ton of questions. I am truly interested in what other people have to say.

Add to that the fact that I love the quirky things in life, the small details that others may notice but not pay attention to and that I love to express myself with the written word, mostly for me, but also for others.

So I ask you? Why in the world do I have writer's block?

I mean, seriously, I have ten thousand ideas in my head. Every day I think of new questions to ask, find out about, write about, explore. I've even thought of a blog post that just lists a ton of questions I have, things that I am curious about.

And every time I sit down at a computer to type or write something out, I completely freeze. The words are stilted, forced, fake. They aren't what I write in my head. It doesn't have the rhythm, force of meaning, provocativeness, or lilt that I hear when I recite them in my head.

Why are these words stuck inside my head?

Honestly, it's because I care too much about what other people will think. And isn't that true in so much of life? We are free in our heads and stilted on paper because of how others will judge us and what we look like on the outside.

In much of the way that I live my life, I have stopped depending on others approval to validate who I am. And that is what I need to do more in my writing. Oh yes, I have a ton to say. And you might not like it. But if I am truly honest about who I am and who God has created me to be and the fantastic things that are in my head--Watch out! 'Cause there is some sweet writing comin' your way.

A Love that doesn't make sense

I have some dear friends who recently brought into their home a new baby. Sometimes I get lost when I am watching the mom and the dad and baby J interact: there is such intensity, such love in their expressions, my heart wants to break for it.

You see, baby J came to their home after months of prayer and waiting and has become their child through adoption. He is not their child by birth, but knowing the difficulty of the road they walked to bring him home, he is their child, a child of their hearts.

And I marvel at this. Because it is obvious they love him deeply, they enjoy having him there, they are thrilled he is a part of their wonderful family.

But what I marvel the most (and have been thinking about quite a bit lately) is the deep love they have for baby J. Their love for him is equal to their love for their other kids.

And that is what doesn't make sense, sometimes to me, sometimes to the world: how can you love a person enough to sacrifice everything if they have no ties to you except your commitment to them?

That is what I think the essence of adoption is. I think about our kids, the ones we are waiting for. And right now our waiting feels patient, it's manageable. Eric and I talk in broad terms about what our family might be like when they finally come home. But right now it is purely an academic exercise. Sure, I feel some sort of affection for whoever they are, this vague idea of a boy and girl who are coming home to us. But it surely isn't real.

It is a lot like before I ever had children. I had no idea I could love so deeply, so instantly. Kids were actually a scary idea: they ruined your marriage, took away your personal time and money, sucked away your joy and energy. Even during pregnancy, I wasn't one to wax deep loving thoughts over that little one who was growing inside me. But the minute I met my son, the love was fierce.

I know that when we get that referral, everything changes . The kids will then have names, faces, stories. They are on their way to becoming ours. Our love, concern, and care for them grows. And then the moment we meet them for the first time. Well, although those two kids might not understand what is happening, tears of joy, relief, and thankfulness will be shed. In fact, I can make myself cry just thinking about it.

And now as I look at our adding to our family, I know I will love these kids. I know I will be willing to sacrifice anything and everything for them to be safe and whole and loved. But as I read about the trials that we might face, I question this love: why would anyone want to do this? Why do I want to make it that we stick out in a crowd? Why do we want to deal with the struggles of adjusting to life in this family when (usually) we like it just the way it is? Why should we voluntarily make life harder than it is, taxing our physical, emotional, and mental resources?

See, it doesn't make sense.

Does it make sense?

Yes it does. Don't worry. I don't know how it happens or how it works, but I know it does. I will love those kids enough to break my heart.

How do I know?

I seen it in the examples of many, many families with adopted kids, both young and old. I have heard the tears and anguish of when a child chooses the wrong path, the pain of a child removed back to a birth mother, the joy felt when a child has reached a milestone. God has a way of weaving families together.

I also know because God is in the business of adoption. He adopted me. He used his Son to bring the two of us together. I did nothing to deserve a place in His family. And even though I have fought him and grieved against him and not trusted him to do what's best for me, he has always remained my Father. Nothing can remove me from his family. Not height nor depth, nor life nor death, nor things present nor things to come, nor things in heaven or on the earth or below the earth will be able to separate me from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

It's a love that doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense that God would love me in spite of who I am and I how I fight his goodness. Just like it doesn't make sense that I will love a child who will fight me (well, sorta like I am loving children who are fighting against me now!) But it is True. It is real.

It is a love that doesn't make sense. But it will. Because it does.

And we're live!

The kids have worked hard on their potholders.

So Eric and I worked hard on creating their etsy shop. And as of last night, we are live!

You can visit their shop at For the Love of Lesotho and check out their offerings. You can email us with requests & you can just simply spread the love.

We are proud of their work and effort and pray that they will be encouraged by the outpouring of others.

Keep checking the shop to find out what other goodies they may have to offer. We have some great ideas in the works!

Blessings,
S

My Kids are Wonderful!

My Great kids!

I just wanted to take a minute to brag on my kids.

A lot of the time, I complain about their "kid-ness" wanting them to be neater, quieter, more considerate, to listen better, and give me more of what I want. Sometimes, I can admit, that I want them to be the kind of kids we imagined in some perfect fairytale world where they are neat and orderly, perfectly respectful, speak kindly when spoken to, and always on their best behavior.

But that wouldn't be very fun, would it?

Instead I have kids who are human, like I am and sometimes we clash. Sometimes they make me want to cry, sometimes I make them cry. I do believe that is part of being a family.

And then I see them do something that is completely unexpected but totally within character.

Right now they are making "stock" for an etsy shop selling. . . Potholders! Yep, they want to do their part to help--so we're working on setting up shop. They are trying to think of a clever name for their shop and finding a reasonable price for their goods (they are thinking about $2. E & I may adjust that a bit).

See aren't they beautiful?



Don't you want one?



Even if they don't sell a single one (which should be doubtful because family will buy at least one, right?) I am proud of them for their initiative, creativity, and stick-to-itiveness. Because really, I have wonderful kids!

It's not about the money, right?

Well, it's not supposed to be about the money. Bringing home some kids isn't initially about money: it's about providing a home to someone who doesn't have one, it's about being obedient to God's call, it's about showing the sacrificial love of Christ to someone who needs it.

But right now, it feels like it is all about the money.

Here's an update: Our dossier is complete and has been accepted by our adoption agency. (A dossier is a compilation of papers attesting to our worthiness to adopt: financials, references, home study, criminal background checks, etc.) That dossier is on it's way to the State Department to be authenticated (meaning: the government is making sure everything checks out) and from there it travels to Lesotho. On this end, it is simply a waiting and praying game. We can do nothing to enhance the speed of this process. (And that's okay with us!)

Our kids are waiting for us and we're coming to get them.

But along with that comes our first big invoice. And we are short of the amount that we need to pay at this time.

Keep in mind that we are also concurrently finishing a bathroom and living life as simply as possible. And we have already leapt over some major financial hurdles. (And I stayed within my grocery budget today--hooray for small victories).

So we are brainstorming how to do this, how to bridge the gap. Here's what we know: we are not going to sell "adoption" wares (Trust me: there's a lot out there and it's pretty great stuff, but we're not into that). Proceeds from Eric's pen sales will benefit the fund and I am soon setting up an etsy shop to sell produce bags (not very exciting, but every bit helps). We are going to apply for some grants and get in with a 501(c)3 that will provide tax benefits to those who donate to our cause. And we're going to plan some events for later this year and into next year. But these ideas don't get the gap bridged.

Tonight, Josh, on his own initiative went to some friend's houses with the wagon to collect cans & bottles that we can return for cash. He did pretty good on his first day. He says he's going back out tomorrow. Our wonderful neighbor also gave him a bag of pennies to count. Quite literally, every penny counts.

I  can see God's hand of provision at work in the recent past, getting us as far as we have. And I know he will provide exactly what we need when we need it. But I don't know how we're going to get there.

Let me tell you, He's using a unique group of people as his tools right now. Eric is part of an online pen-turners community. And so far a few of these guys (who we have never physically met) have stepped up with some incredible gifts. I am humbled by the kindness of strangers. If any of you IAP guys read this, my heart-felt thanks. Thank you. I can barely say more without tears. Because of you, we are closer to our payment than we were yesterday.

See, it's not about the money. But it is. Because in this moment, it is how God is showing us his care, his provision, and his grace. It's reminds me that these are not my kids, but His. And truly, I do love Him for it.