Lost.

Have you ever been lost?

You know, truly and completely uncertain about your surroundings or which way to turn to get where you want to be...

It can be debilitating.

It can be confusing.

It can be downright scary.

I grew up in a small rural town in the South. My playground was the woods behind our house and the creek a few miles away. 

I remember being gone from sun-up to sundown playing in those woods. Running barefoot down the dirt road because my old tennis shoes were soaked from playing in the creek. Eating berries off the side of the road. Climbing trees so high I could see for miles and miles. Discovering new places and new adventures all the time.

But I don't ever remember being lost. 

Strange, isn't it? I rarely knew where I was...
but I always knew where I was...

When I think about my life now? My dreams? My "plans"? I often get distracted by the steps involved. When I don't know what step comes next, I immediately become frozen with fear.

And I can't help but wonder...at what point in my life did not knowing where I was stop being a new adventure? When did I become so afraid of the unknown?

I sit here confused. Because to tell you the truth...there are no balls in the air. There are so many things I want to do in life and I? just don't know which way to turn to get there. And I wish I saw it as a new adventure. I wish I could see myself as an explorer discovering new seasons in life. 

I want to be that person.

But more often than not, I stand in front of the mirror and remind myself that God will never let you miss His destiny for you if you are seeking Him.

And yet, that doesn't mean it's going to happen today.

That's why it's called Faith.

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1 (NIV 2011)

Guest Post in honor of National Foster Care Month

Hey guys! Today I am so excited to share a guest post by my friend Lindsy! I love her heart for foster care and I have been so gripped recently by the mis-education out there about foster care and even adopting children from hard places. All I know is that we need more families ready to stand in the gap for these babies! In honor and celebration of National Foster Care Month, Lindsy has done an amazing Foster Care series over at Word from the Wallaces that I HIGHLY recommend you check out when you're done here!

Take it away, Lindsy!

*****************

I'm excited and honored to be sharing our foster care journey and a bit of my heart for orphans with you today! God may have this post specifically for you OR this may not be your calling.

Do whatever He is calling YOU to. He is calling you to something!

Let's start here ----> We never intended to be foster parents. It was not on our radar or any to-do list. We began the process of international adoption in 2009. We ended up with two biological kiddos and continued our pursuit of international adoption. Foster care literally never entered our minds.


My thinking was along the lines of "Kids in the US have roofs over their heads, clothes on their backs and food in their tummies. Their parents are not dying of AIDS at alarming rates and they are not dying themselves of dirty water. The needs of children overseas are greater." (I. WAS. WRONG.)


Flash forward to 2012. Through a series of events only God could orchestrate, we became involved with a local family in need. We stepped in to care for the children for a short season so their mother could position herself to properly care for her kids.


And that's when God went to work on our hearts.

We learned early on in our placement with the boys that they might not be leaving anytime soon. In fact, it became apparent they would likely be going into foster care. Since we were not certified foster parents, that would have meant them being pulled from our house and moved into a state certified foster home.


He re-wrote our story to include the American orphan. God knew we needed to see it for ourselves, in our own living room. So we became foster parents.


He showed us how the effects of neglect, abuse and trauma in the United States are NO different than the effects of neglect, abuse and trauma in Africa or Haiti. He opened our eyes to the 500,000 orphans in our own country who will go to bed tonight as wards of the state. He taught us that while yes, children in third world countries are more likely to be on the streets in the only shirt they own begging for food and living in a carboard box beacuase their parents are dead or dying, the effect parentlessness has on them is no greater than the effect of parentlessness on orphans right "here".


Their needs are the same. The same as children in Africa. Children in Russia, India and Haiti. The need for lovers of Jesus to fight for the American orphan is the same.

There are currently over 100,000 children in the US foster care system who are legally available for adoption. Did you know that? One year ago I did not.

There are a lot of myths regarding foster care and adopting from the foster system. Unfortunately, the only stories that receive media attention are ones where a birth parent shows up years later and demands their kid back. Or stories of kids who linger in the states care for years and years.


While these things do happen, they are not the norm. More importantly, the system may be broken, but God is sovereign.


The state's job is to protect children but the state cannot and does not nurture children and point them to the only One who can heal him. His Bride must do that. If not us, then who?

If you'd like to learn more about foster care or adoption in your state visit Focus on the Family.

Lindsy and her husband William live in Kentucky with their four preschoolers and are anxiously awaiting the arrival of a toddler from Africa. She blogs about orphan care and Jesus at word from the wallaces.

[Memorial Day] Gratitude.

My FIL fought in Vietnam. For most of my husband's life, he says he rarely heard much about his dad's time in Vietnam. All we knew was that very few guys from his group made it home. And the ones who did were forever changed.  

As he's gotten older, he'll periodically share with us bits and pieces from his life there... A few years ago, the traveling wall came to our town and FIL came to see it. You see, most of his friends are on that wall. Rows of them, in fact, were people whose names alone flooded his mind with memories. That weekend, we were also able to visit one of the men who served with him and I think those things combined opened the floodgate.

I learned more about him in that weekend than I have in the 13 years I've known him combined.

We, often times, become so desensitized to hearing of fallen soldiers oversees... Almost as if it's so far away that we have convinced ourselves it's not real.

But it is. Real.

Each name on the news is a son or daughter. Someone's husband/wife. Fathers and mothers. Beloved sisters and brothers.

Friends.

Heroes.

Thank You just seems so cheap compared to the sacrifices made. Both by our hero soldiers...and their families...

Thank You. Just isn't a worthy response when so much is given and taken.

When I think about each person who joins our armed forces and takes the call to fight for freedom. So dearly loved by so many. So brave and courageous?

My heart is filled with a gratitude I don't have words to describe.

Recently, as we prayed for the family of a fallen hero, Marvel asked if this soldier was like Captain America.

"Better" I replied, "because he didn't have special powers or superhuman strength. He was brave and courageous all on his own...in his own skin.  He was truly a Super-hero".

A few days later, we saw a man in uniform in the grocery store. Marvel whispered to me "Look, mom...a superhero soldier!" with awe and admiration. 
Had he not been in the middle of a conversation, we would have stopped to thank him..I told Marvel we would thank each and every soldier we saw from now on

Each and every member of our armed forces are superheros. Brave and Courageous in the face of danger. 

So, as we mark a day of remembrance to our fallen heroes..I, humbly, with more respect than I can even describe.. say Thank you.

Thank you to the men and women who daily risk their lives for freedom. Who put on a uniform that asks them to be willing to give their lives for ours.

Thank you to the families who courageously await the return of their beloved soldiers.

Thank you to the husbands and wives who keep their families running smoothly during a long and hard deployment.

Thank you to the moms and dads who hold back tears and lumps in their throats as their hero tells them they are joining the military.

Thank you to those who have come home with battles to face again.

Thank you to those who live with physical---and invisible---reminders of the toll of war.

And Thank you. Thank you... to the heroes whose lives {here} ended on the battlefield.

We honor you. We celebrate you. We thank you.

Love Big.

This past weekend I was blessed to  attend Created for Care with my dear friend Randee!

Since re-uniting with reality...
(for real, ya'll ...there was chocolate and coffee EVERYWHERE!)

I've tried to gather my thoughts.

Process some stuff.

Re-evaluate motives. actions. Opportunities.

And mostly I've tried to remind myself that I chose to walk this path of Intentional Parenting.

I chose not to depend on the 'norm' to correct, connect with and help my children heal.

I knowingly entered into this world of brokenness and beauty and loss and redemption and grief and restoration.

And His Grace has so abounded....
**********


As I think about all I gained this weekend, I truly don't know if it's possible to express how much my heart was filled as I sat listening to the Voice of the Adoptee as she walked through the " adoption process" from our children's view.
"Children from hard places often deal with immense shame related to the earliest rejections, abandonments, losses... Guilt is in direct relationship to actions...but Shame? Shame speaks to someone's very Goodness"   Oh. The power of those words as we walk next to our children on their road to healing...

Or how refreshed and renewed and released I was in my date with God....
I came feeling like I was in a good place. With adoption. With life. But, oh my...when given the chance to truly release the weight.. I was surprised by how much I needed the embrace of my Father. How much I desired to just be a child in the safety of her Father's arms again without the burdens of this life....

But I know that I needed it. And so did 899 other mommas who traveled to Created for Care for the January and March retreats.

Those amazing mommas who planned and organized and orchestrated all of this... what can be said in gratitude to the women who gave us the chance to sit in a room and look around and think "These are my people" and tell stories and discuss struggles that we so carefully protect in our everyday lives?

It seems so inadequate for all that was poured out on our behalf...

You see, I'm not necessarily the best at making friends...but at C4C I truly believed I was in a room with true friends.

We cried together. OMG. Did we cry together (have I mentioned yet my inability to cry pretty?).

We laughed and cheered and renewed our spirits together.

We worshiped together.

And together we left. Ready to go home. To get back to the very basics of all we know about parenting our kiddos from hard places. To be fully present in their needs and desires and sorrows.

To Love Big.

Changing the Way I Pray

Look at that face.

It's the face of a {perfect} child.

Except for when it's not.

He's going to grow up and become a man someday.

He's going to get married and have children.

He's going to look back and think of all the things he will do different in raising his own family.

And contrary to how that might sound, I have no problem with that. In fact, it brings me much peace to believe that he will aspire to be a better parent and spouse  and person than I am or ever will be.

And as his mother, of course, I pray for him and that future all the time.

But not in the way I always imagined I would.

Example: When I was a teenager, True Love Waits was just getting some notariety. It's popularity was increased with books like "I Kissed Dating Goodbye".

In that season of abstenance-education, when I would pray for my future husband, I would pray the ever-noble "keep us both pure"...as if somehow, free-will wasn't an issue in the romance area.

And while my heart was in the right place, I believe that prayers like that (in my own case) were somewhat misdirected.

I mean, even then? I struggled with questions like What if my future-husband-to-be didn't know about True Love Waits. What if he'd never read I Kissed Dating Goodbye, What if he wasn't even a believer at that time? What if he Was and yet still made bad choices.

What if I did?

Did that mean God wasn't answering my prayers? Did that mean I would walk the rest of my life full of shame and guilt? Did it mean I was no longer worthy? Of course not. 

My sins were on that cross. I wasn't redeemed because I had never sinned..but rather because I had. And would again at some point.

Redemption wasn't offered because I was good enough, Grace was given because I wasn't.

But because I had focused on the sin and not the grace, my view of the value each held was distorted...

And just for the record, I completely support the True Love Waits initiative and it's counterparts. It isn't that I don't believe in abstenance and monogamy and the beauty of marriage as it was intended, unaffected by shame.

I do. (and will preach the same to my children)

It's just that..that is just one example of the way we often pray about the future....maybe instead of praying that my children or even my children's future-spouses behave a certain way or enjoy certain things or even avoid certain mistakes...

Maybe instead of all that?

I focus my prayer on the foundation of all it all.

Grace.

"For it is by free grace (God's unmerited favor) that you are saved (delivered from judgment and made partakers of Christ's salvation) through [your] faith. And this [salvation] is not of yourselves [of your own doing, it came not through your own striving], but it is the gift of God" (AMP) Eph. 2:8

I will devote my life to raising children who desire Jesus. Who long to be with Him and fulfil their part in advancing the Kingdom of God. I will pray that God will shield them from hurts and rejection and mistakes that undoubtedly have consequences. I will train my child with discipline, direction, love, and The Word of God. I will ALWAYS pray that the Holy Spirit would be an ever-present voice when my children face choices and that their hearts would be soft and their ears would be open to listen to the direction of the Lord.

But they won't always.

And no matter how long I stand before the throne of God on their behalf? They will sin.

And so more than all those other things, I will contend for their quick repentence and return to their Father. I will cry out on their behalf. And most importantly, I will beseech the Almighty for a greater impartation of His Grace in my life.

I pray that my children believe wholeheartedly in their salvation through grace. That they would expect that same grace extended from us {their parents} and that they would be quick to return that grace to the people around them.

That our expectations of each other would be muted by the overwhelming faith in a God that has poured out unlimited grace on us, despite our sinful nature.

“But where sin abounded, grace did much more abound”Rom.5:20

So, no longer will I pray that my children will avoid certain mistakes and sins. No longer will I pray for a specific personality trait or desireable habit from their future spouses. No longer will I focus on the things that man cares about...

Instead? I choose to focus on the desires of their hearts.

That they would be ever-turned to the desires of God's heart and that their lives would be guided by that relationship and the daily presense of the Holy Spirit. I pray that they would be courageous and brave for justice. That when choices are presented, they seek the will of God first. And I pray that they would walk the straight and narrow path their entire lives without looking to the left or the right when the enemy is trying to pull them in.

But when all that fails and sin occurs despite my greatest efforts?  I pray that they know Grace.

That shame and guilt are suffocated under the overwhelming love that Grace gives. And that I am able to give freely the grace that has been given to me.

I pray that they feel loved and worthy even in the midst of consequences and that I am never the vessel the enemy is able to use to cloak them again in shame and guilt.

And I pray that in my own sins, my children have an understanding of grace enough to extend it back.

Because, even in my greatest moments, I am still a sinner.

Saved only by Grace.

 

Finding Peace in the Storm

We are in a season of testing.

I knew we would be

But I never expected quite to what extent we might be tested.

Appliances needing replacement.

Vehicles needing repairs.

Adoption fees due ahead of schedule.

Jobs ending.


It's a lot to have happen right at once. I stare at the budget and beg God to give me wisdom and direct my every step...To make me a good steward.

But I already know what's going on here...and while God very-well may answer my prayers for wisdom and stewardship...that's not why this is happening.

This is about Faith.

God isn't surprised by our myriad of struggles.

He hasn't forgotten the path He put us on in this season.

He isn't overwhelmed when He looks at our situation.

No...He's not trying to figure out how to get us out of this...He's working these things together for our good. For something we can't even see today. Because it hasn't been painted yet.

He is setting the stage.

He is putting us in the refining fire.

He is reminding us that He is still in control.

And that He's got this.


"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[a] have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9

"Yet those who wait for the LORD Will gain new strength; They will mount up with wings like eagles, They will run and not get tired, They will walk and not become weary." Isaiah 40:31

"Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10

Check out this Powerful Post from Ann Voskamp today...

May we all be Radically Grateful.

I Don't Know How It Feels

When the Husband and I announced our desire to build our family through adoption, most of the looks of "understanding" and whispers circled around one notion.

Infertility.

It was the elephant in the room that didn't exist.

I was pompous. Probably even insensitive.

How Dare they assume that the only way people might choose our world was if they had struggled with infertility? went my brain...

My words, while laced in sarcasm southern molasses were less pointed and yet got the point across.

We've actually chosen this as our First plan for parenthood, I would say with an air of nobility.

As if--somehow-- that put us in a different category of adoptive families.


But, truthfully...my words? my self-built pedestal? were no better than the ones being vomited at me during Sunday School.. "You know...now that you're adopting you'll probably get pregnant (wink wink)"

Oh. So that's how it works.... And all this time I thought sex was involved.

**********

Here I sit, three years later. And my heart aches.

In my own adoption journey, I've been a bystander to the paths so many people take from suffering through their own infertility struggles, to trading their dreams (as Lauren so eloquently put it) for the nontraditional path of adoption. 

I've listened to the depth of pain and suffering that preceded the fork in the road.

And I've learned something about myself.  I'm not the courageous one.

I certainly deserve no high admiration.

My road to adoption (not necessarily in) was easy.

No hard decisions. No lost dreams. No sorrow and heartbreak as everyone around you celebrates their pregnancies and children.

I've never had to pick myself up from that place.

I don't know how it feels.

To be honest, I'm not even sure I would have the grace for it.

But I know this for sure.  Making light of the struggles of infertility would be akin to mocking someone with cancer. 

It's insensitive and callous. 

It tears open wounds that people are trying desperately to heal.



I read an article recently about a famous family (for being famous I suppose) with one sister newly pregnant and now announcing her own struggles with infertility (which seems oddly publicized and just recently mentioned at all) while a second sister has had to openly walk the path of infertility in front of the world.  While I know very little about the family and only what the world say about these journeys, I can't help but feel a pain in my heart for the second sister. 

Because I now understand one truth completely.... it's not a light matter. It is a heartbreaking and sometimes completely devastating road to walk, filled with uncertainty, letdown, and ultimately the bravery to get back up and keep walking...

**********

So to my friends out there who have suffered and walked this path alone, I am so sorry. I should have cried with you. I should have sat with you in the silent prayers and the staring out the windows. I should have ached with you in the grief and the loss. Please forgive me because I didn't know then what I know today...

And, for my friends out there who-- like me-- have not walked down the painful road that so many others have, please recognize the courage and sacrifice that road has required of them. Acknowledge and admire those women who tell their stories later with only a trace of sadness left in their voices.  Sit and cry with friends who have had old wounds ripped open and ask God, through your own tears, for His healing...

Remind yourself when you think it's not a big deal that you've not been asked to walk that road.

Respect that it is a deep wound. And treat it as such.

And never assume you know how it feels.....

Mommy Guilt

I knew it was coming.

I mean, it was unlikely that I was going to be the exception to the rule....


The truth is?

I work full-time.

Sometimes I have to travel (though not often--and not far).

And even with a flexible schedule, there are things that I just. can't. get. out. of.


So what does that mean?

It means that I missed Marvel's first field trip.

It means that Marvel is part of the exclusive "after-care" crew whose parents aren't waiting in the pick-up lane at 3pm.

It means that I can't volunteer in his classroom like some moms can.

Or help decorate the bulletin boards (??).

And it often means that I am the last mom signing up for food for the Thanksgiving Feast, or Grandparents Day (don't even get me started on the guilt they smooshed all over me for that one...) or their Israel song celebration (again. ?)

But all of that? I could deal with.

I could hold my head high when picking Marvel up 10 minutes before the $1/minute after-after care starts.

I could smile on my way out the door as I pass the volunteering mommas on their way in.

I could even sleep at night knowing I didn't sign-up to bring anything for Israel-song-grandparent-thanksgiving-feast-day.

But missing a school production?

With all the costumes? The song and dance? The smiling faces as kids see their parents in the crowds?

That has almost destroyed me.

I'm swimming in Mommy-guilt, ya'll.

You see, I have a commitment with work at an event 2 hours away.

And Marvel's production? Is at 9:30 in the morning (why do they keep doing this to me??)...

The Husband has graciously offered to go in my place, video the whole thing, cheer and even bring a dish for the celebration afterwards...

And I'll take him up on all of the above.

But?  I should be there.

Tearing up because my baby is singing some ridiculous song on stage.

Laughing and visiting with all the other moms during the refreshments after.

Hugging and cheering when the announce Marvel's name and he comes running down to me.

Because I'm the momma.

And that's what we do.

And even though I knew I would --at some point-- suffer the wrath of mommy guilt?

It doesn't make it any easier.....

Tell me this won't scar my child forever please??

Do you remember where you were that day?

(Originally posted September 11, 2010)


I do.

I had a 7am P.E. class, so I had gone to class, gotten out early, and had run back to the dorm room to commence sleeping. I had just fallen back asleep.

I remember waking up to my phone ringing.

I remember hearing The Husband--then "The Boyfriend" --tell me to turn on the t.v.

I remember turning it on just in time to see the second tower get hit. My roommate came running into the room and just sat down at the end of my bed.

At that exact moment, it might have been an accident. But a few minutes later, there was word about the 3rd plane. We didn't say anything. We didn't move. We just sat there.

Everything we had forsaken?

Everything we had grown up taking for granted?

Was being attacked.

Our freedoms. Our safety. Our country.

***************

A few years ago, I was babysitting hanging out with my friend's two girls. "T" was probably about 7...maybe 8. We had watched Hairspray that night, and I remember my heart being filled with joy to see the confusion on her face as we watched it.

"Why were they being so mean to those black people?" she asked.

"We didn't do a lot of things right back then. But we are working on doing things right, now." I replied, cautious not to put myself in a corner where the historical responses might confuse her more.

"Well, I think they should have let them dance...They were the better dancers, anyways" She responded, confident that had SHE been in charge, things would have been different.

I smiled, "Yes. Yes, they sure were"

"Hey Ashley...You know what we learned in school the other day?" She came back quickly--unbeknownst to me--quite finished with our previous topic.

"What's that?" I responded, sure that somehow they were teaching about the Civil Rights era in 2nd grade now...

"We learned about these people who flew planes into these big buildings in New York. And now? Those buildings are gone, and a lot of people died that day."

My heart stopped. Sitting there with T? Was the first moment I realized that there would be a whole generation who would be asking US about "that day". The significance of "that day" in history was concrete. And for T... who was just an infant on 9/11... it was as far removed as Pearl Harbor. Or World War II. Or, even, the Revolutionary War.

"You know, T...I remember 'that day'" I said, feeling a little melancholy, my soul always carrying a piece of "that day" with me.

"You were ALIVE when that happened??" Her eyes big and curious.

And so I told her all about what I remembered.

How the country banded together to protect our freedom. 

How none of us had really known what that meant before.

How at that moment... regardless of political positions or intellectual disagreements? We were all, simply, Americans.

I told her about the lines at gas stations being miles long, because people were afraid of gas shortages. How planes couldn't fly for weeks afterward...anywhere. How nobody really knew what the next day would look like, or the next week. or month. or year. But that I had trusted in God and had faith that He loved us.

We talked about how I didn't actually know anyone in the towers, but that one of my professors had a son-in-law who worked there. And had been at a meeting across town when it happened. He was one of the lucky ones.

I told her we were scared. America had never been attacked like this, at least not in my lifetime...and quickly, I realized that THIS was how our grandparents must have felt when Pearl Harbor was attacked.

The immensity of knowing that you were alive during something as significant as that? is profound. I tried my best to explain everything I could...knowing that some things? some feelings? just couldn't be explained.

I didn't mention the picture I have in my head of people jumping out of the windows.Or the piles of bodies being pulled from the wreckage.

I didn't tell her that we were always worried we would be attacked again. Even trying to proactively determine what the risk of our part of the country getting attacked would be (low, we decided).

I didn't tell her that I didn't really cry. I couldn't. really. cry. It was an an emotion I had never really felt...

I did tell her how proud I was--and am--to be an American though. How the resilience of Americans after 9/11 only confirmed how blessed I had felt to be born in such a country.

How, even when I don't agree with the politics, the religious disputes, the hatred, that Americans can possess....I have never wished I'd been born anywhere else.

That I have always said the Pledge of Allegiance with pride and sang Star Spangled Banner as beautifully as possible.

How, even in the worst of times, we were the greatest nation.

And instead of wishing to be somewhere else, when we disagree with things, we should work to change them and make them better.

"Like the people in Hairspray did?" She asked.

"Yep. Just like that".

Source

May the voice of truth be clear.

I usually don't comment on these sorts of things.

I most definitely have an opinion. And I will not hesitate to share such opinions with you in honest and respectful dialogue.

But truthfully? I find so much of the words and "shouting" and boldness expressed on social networking to be counterproductive at best and more likely, damaging to the discussions.

But.

BUT.

As my amazing son is babbling about something in broken English, broken Amharic while laughing and jumping up and down (something about a fish and washing your hands)...my heart is heavy. Aching even.

Because when I watched the Pat Robertson clip that had been trending on my facebook, I was grieved by what I heard....the same way I imagine my Savior was grieved.

You see, it's not just that he simply didn't support adoption. Let's be honest, if all Christians supported adoption, it would be a lot less painstaking for adoptive families to fundraise. So my guess is that there are a number of Christians who don't support adoption.
Of course, that's another post for another day.....

My heart was grieved because as I watched that clip, I realized this poor man had no concept of the dirt and filth and sin that covered him with stench when Jesus came along with redemption. with salvation. with adoption.

Jesus didn't just send money and "pray" for the least of these, he brought them close to his chest in a warm embrace and said "Welcome to the family. Here you are dearly loved."

My son? Isn't perfect. He has his scars...and for now? we even still have some open wounds. But he is perfectly and wonderfully made. And regardless of what his circumstances were, God has something beautiful in mind for him.  Healing is being done as we walk with him through his grief and hurt. I am not confident in my own abilities to help him...but I am MORE than confident in Jesus.. I know without a doubt that He loves Marvel more than I could ever imagine possible.

And for me? I can't describe to you the intense emotions that grip my spirit when I think of the ways God has blessed my life with this little boy. I am filled with awe at having a glimpse of the way the Father walks with each of us through our own healing. I am overcome that --while covered in my own sin and filth and circumstances--God called me to Him saying "Come here, daughter, where you are dearly loved. Come close to me so I can bring you healing and show you the plans I have for you"

So when I watch a clip where adopted children are referred to as "weird" and families who are blessed with these children called "The United Nations", I am hurt and saddened by his small view of the Kingdom and by his damaging words to Christians worldwide about the redemptive power of Jesus Christ...

But, as loud as his voice may be...I am confident that the voice of truth will be even more clear.

So, to the person out there who was sexually abused. YOU are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God. To the children who were beaten and told you weren't worth anything. YOU are God's Favorite One. To the children whose abuse came before you even took your first breaths. God did not make a mistake with you.

To those out there whose scars are on your heart. God loves you wholeheartedly. You are valuable. To those whose circumstances caused unfairness and hurt. God is your healer. He hasn't left you or foresaken you in your world.

We are all weird. Yes, You. Our circumstances are less than ideal. There is not one of us who wasn't covered in sin and filth and  requiring death. There isn't anyone who earned their salvation. The only way we could be "saved" was through the death of Jesus Christ.  And when He finished what He came for, we--for the first time-- had salvation. A second chance. An eternal family. Adopted into the greatest family ever.

For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God's Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, "Abba, Father."For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God's children.  Romans 8:14-16

Father to the fatherless, defender of widows-
this is God, whose dwelling is holy.
God places the lonely in families;
he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy.  Psalms  68:5-6 (a)

May this be the loudest voice of all.

All of you.

I read this a while ago and breathed a sign of relief. Finally. Something out there that honors ALL the different kinds of mothers. Too many times, as a society, we fail to acknowledge all mothers.  People stuck "in-between" are confused as to their place. Women struggling with infertility feel hurt and unworthy. Mothers who have lost children are grieving and forgotten.....


But Today? We honor the Momma Heart. To all who qualify as living everyday with a Momma's Heart, I say a wholehearted 'Happy Mother's Day'.  May God bless you evermore!

To those who gave birth this year to their first child—we celebrate with you

To those who lost a child this year – we mourn with you

To those who are in the trenches with little ones every day and wear the badge of food stains – we appreciate you

To those who experienced loss this year through miscarriage, failed adoptions, or running away—we mourn with you

To those who walk the hard path of infertility, fraught with pokes, prods, tears, and disappointment – we walk with you. Forgive us when we say foolish things. We don’t mean to make this harder than it is.

To those who are foster moms, mentor moms, and spiritual moms – we need you

To those who have warm and close relationships with your children – we celebrate with you

To those who have disappointment, heart ache, and distance with your children – we sit with you

To those who lost their mothers this year – we grieve with you

To those who experienced abuse at the hands of your own mother – we acknowledge your experience

To those who lived through driving tests, medical tests, and the overall testing of motherhood – we are better for having you in our midst

To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year – we grieve and rejoice with you

And to those who are pregnant with new life, both expected and surprising –we anticipate with you

This Mother’s Day, we walk with you. Mothering is not for the faint of heart and we have real warriors in our midst. We remember you. source

All of you.

The Conversation I Wish I'd Never Heard.

Have you ever been there?


Trapped.


A few weeks ago? I was there. Nowhere to go. Overhearing a conversation that made my heart cry and my ears bleed.

The conversation about "race". 


I first started overhearing it about the time she said the words "And then [my daughter] asked what we would do if she wanted to marry one"


"One".


African American.


"I told her that I just want what's best for her...How difficult 'that life' would be..not being accepted by any race"


Yes, you're probably feeling it too, right now, I'm sure.


That desire to stand up for our children.


To butt right into these strangers conversation and talk about our beautiful brown-skinned sons and daughters.


To stand up for our friends who married for love. Not race.


I did, too.


Because the thought that my daughter? wouldn't be accepted by any community because of her family...or because of the color of her skin? Destroys me.


I didn't interrupt.


Instead, I prayed in the spirit. I looked through my amazing photo album of Sweet Girl.


I even looked up hair-style tips.


And I did my best to forget what I was now unable to stop listening to.


Since then, I have spent a lot of time in prayer about this. I truly believe that one of the easiest attacks of the enemy is to build on the fear that we will be rejected. To feed on our desire for community. You see? God created us for community. To live amongst our breathren. To love our neighbor as ourselves.


And, Satan? Hates that.  His mission is to destroy us. And telling us that a certain "path" will lead us to a place of not being accepted? is a cheap shot at God's plan for the Body of Christ.


And the fact that these conversations still happen suggests that our society is still broken. That we still have a long way to go.


But my confidence does not come from society and her dysfunctions.


My confidence comes from Christ.


And while my daughter's heritage is African.


And her culture will be a mixture of Ethiopian and American.


Her identity? Is in Christ alone.


She's not just an Ethiopian American. She's the daughter of those who have devoted their lives to the advancement of the Kingdom of God on earth. Her family is not made up of biological and adopted family members, of all colors I might add, but also of the Body of Christ. Of the church.


She's the precious daughter of the Most High.


And we are honored that He would choose us to shepherd her life on earth. That He would share His favorite one with us.


I pray today, that the Church grabs hold of this in a new way. That 10am on Sundays would no longer be the most segregated hour of the week. That the Body of Christ would come together in unity and stand up to society saying "You've got it all wrong! THIS isn't how it is supposed to be! Our acceptance is not based on the color of our skin! We are all chosen by God and blessed because we believe in Him"


"For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him"  Romans 10:12


I don't know what trials we will face in our lives.

I don't claim to have many--if any at all--of the answers to the problems in our world.

I don't know that I will always handle every battle the right way.

But I do know that in situations that arise in our lives, our confidence remains in Jesus Christ.  My prayer, much like MLK Jr.'s was, is that my daughter will be judged and judge others by the content of their character, NOT the color of their skin. And that her marriage, someday, will be a glimpse and example to those around her, of the love of Christ for the Church.

I pray that society continues to work towards acceptance and stops allowing the enemy to use us as tools of rejection and separation against one another.


And I pray that, even if society isn't perfect in our lifetimes. Even if we have to walk through many of the trials that I so desperately want to shield her from? That even if there are cultural and societal dysfunctions that attempt to tear down and destroy our family and more specifically my children? 

That my daughter's Identity is never shaken. 

Because it never belonged to this world to begin with.

This is one of my favorite songs by Israel. When I hear it, I am immediately taken back to our trip to the Congo in 2007. We did this song with their worship team incorporating English and French. It was one of my favorite moments. I could feel God smiling down on us as we were in total unity!